♛ | Quit Being Overrated

╣RIOT╠ - His insides felt as though they were put through a blender. 

Even as the rain pelted down on his scorching body, the agony riddling the entirety of his being refused to disappear. How long has it been since he’d felt the rush of a life-or-death battle? The close brush against the death itself? Time and time again, he kept it at bay, but this time, he felt as though this one came closer than most.  Sol had never pushed himself - let alone have anyone push him so hard since the day he’d first fought Justice. Now before him, some shitty child rearing kid in his early teens was doing just that by strides. For well over two hundred years, the bounty hunter had fought against countless opponents from different walks of life - but something about this one particular child stood out from the rest of the ones he’d crossed fists with previously. 

He could almost see why the Demon Baby decided to choose this shithead for his host. It wasn’t his strength that the baby chose him for, it was his indomitable, nearly unbending iron will to keep going regardless of how hard the tides crashed against him. Frankly to say, Sol almost saw a little bit of himself back in his early years in this… Tatsumi Oga. This was a boy who wouldn’t hesitate on bringing down heaven and raising hell to get what he wanted, and until he got it, he wouldn’t stop his kicking and screaming till he did so. Frederick, he too was also like this, but like all things, they were all doused by time. Passion to achieve greater heights, set sights on greater horizons without a single world of care for the kind consequences that’d follow - that was what it meant to be young again, he supposed. Looking at Oga reminded him of that. The forgotten embers of his days were doused long time ago by the stains of time that’d never come back. 

“What a drag….”

However, this fight was helping him find that again. For that, Sol shakily stood, his right arm broken and beaten in wrong angle, his body with still chunks of it left missing and blood pouring from what seemed to every orifices of his flesh…. And yet, the Flame of Corruption stood, shutting out all forms of pain for a rematch. Any lesser men would’ve succumbed to death at this point. The ancient bounty hunter gasped, reached for his broken arm and snapped it right back into place with a single pull. From there, the Gear cells did the rest and his arm was back to its full function again in no time, though it still hurt when he bent his fingers a little, but nothing he couldn’t handle.  

With his body capable of moving once again (if not a bit wobbly), Sol began hobble his way out the ruins, using the battered Junkyard Dog as his support. Was it time to use that, already? The kid certainly pulled out his A-game this time around, and it was about time that the bounty hunter begin to pull out his own aces. Otherwise, he just might lose. As if he’d let some damned kid and his toddler beat him. Though the bounty hunter didn’t care much for things like ‘pride as a man’ and that sort of thing, but there was something about letting some kid beat you in a match that’d come off as an embarrassing story for those that’d hear it. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Sin - or anybody else if he lost to some school boy. 

Don’t die, huh? 

“Yer creepin’ me out, it almost sounds like yer worried ‘bout me.” The Gear leaned his back against the wall, “… If I were ya, I’d be more worried about yer end, not me.” 

“And trust me: Y’ain’t th’first one who thought they won.” 

Two minutes, he thought. He had exactly (or just about close to) two minutes before he had to forcibly pull himself out of that state. With the careful calculations made, the bounty hunter slowly reached for the headguard and ripped it out of its hinges. And at that moment, his body began to exude infernal powers and magic likes of which nobody has ever seen. Great gouts of hellpyre began to burst forth, roaring and towering high into the once blue heavens, piercing it in its crimson light. Then it sank down on him, burning and purging away at all things that made him human much like in a way that a reptile would shed its skin.

BGM: RIDE THE FIRE!!

“̧̛D͏͏̨҉̛R̶͠҉A͏̴G̷̢̡͘͝O̶҉N̡̧͜͡ ̶̢́͝I̵̴͏͡N̛͠S̵̡̧͜͡T͏̀͠A̢L̶̶͡Ļ̸͜͞͡!̢̀҉!̢͟͞!̵!̕͜͠!̶̕͢͟!̡̛!̡̨̡̛͘!!"̴

Then, his fingers began to grow bone-like claws as a pair of burning wings made of nothing but pure flames sprouted from his back, tearing through both of his own flesh and bone. For Oga, this was nothing but a small glimpse of what a man beneath Sol Badguy was. He was made for war and was its pure violence made incarnate, born to end all things that lived. A rampaging dragon, one that earned him the title of ‘Flame of Corruption’. Before the boy stood the crimson abomination created by humans, an inhuman being exuding otherworldly flames that purged and vanquished all in its reach. 

“This is as far as y’go!” 

拳 - Bastard. This scene was almost moving enough to make a taunting smile rise on his lips. Further and further was that nefarious nagging tone in his head was being drowned out, making way for the street bred form of resolute that carried him through a neverending valley of battles. Much of the grotesque reanimation had avoided the naked eyes of father and son, but the damage of what was still being mended was clear. That alone was worthy to another harsh note of his attention. This clearly explained his lack of overall hospital trips during those sparse days they traveled together.

A sensation of finality drifts off the ruins of a once great city. Being the unforgivable sort of bastard he was, for the time being, it was the last worry tucked in the forefront of his mind. Energy signals belonging to those under his wing and that of his family safely diminished long before this fight began. Everyone else? Oga was confident a wayward method of drawing them back to the land of the living could be spun in motion. For the time being, all of that focus was centered onto foreboding words of Sol Badguy.

What coursed through his heart once that seal promptly shattered would be a burst of pure adrenaline that shot from his fingertips down to his toes, it was all thanks to that oppressive air igniting the second it was drawn. Beel’s eyes had widened in a morbid scene of fascination as the truth of this guy’s fabled moniker was stirred from its deep slumber. Deep underneath, the ground began to violently rumble beneath their feet as pure hell wrenched free from the restraints of mortal coil. Quickly shuffling an arm before their eyes, the scalding winds would  sidewinded for the time as they adamantly stood their ground.

No longer would could they afford to being carelessly knocked off their feet. A weird sigil unlike any Oga has ever seen was briefly witnessed, an variant icon of death itself making it’s known as the figure it housed took a form even his branch of experience had never crossed before. What shock him to the utmost was sheer output of that strength radiating from him! An instinctive shudder coursed through the delinquent, almost feeling betrayed that a ‘trick’ like this picked now as the time to be introduced. If only he knew the battle set grin he adorned once flaming gale reached its crescendo.

That hadn’t done a damn thing for the crushing gravity that was none other than his presence alone.

“...Not just yet.” Oga countered, all while keeping one excited demon lord from bounding off his shoulders in unbridled excitement. It wasn’t to say he couldn’t harmonize on the current rush of excitement. Whoever in the hell this man was, they realized from the core of their souls they’d easily give Fuji and Satan a run for their money. How long has it been since they’ve found a fight that even their instincts themselves couldn’t ignore? Seldom were the times he truly wanted to fight to begin with, time and time again those battles being set on the grit of life and death as their basis.

For a change, a desire to see just how far they came rang strong.

”Take a damn good look, Baby Beel.”

“Aih!”

“Hold back even a little bit and we’re dead meat. Think it’s time for that?” Was it truly..!? The young lord’s answer would be an excited grip settled onto the delinquent’s shoulder. Already could he feel that raw power impatient bouncing within being drawn to the Fly King’s Seal.

Now or never.

An unusual form of awareness swept over the top as they secured their ground. Oga’s hands were clenched, becoming steadied fist of determination as the Zebul Spell lit up with a power they’ve rarely delved off into. All that could be reflected on was that endless well of rage as the collective source was tapped upon deep. Initially seemingly like they drove close to dancing around death’s door, the most chaotic form of a second wind would take place! As a metaphorical fist was drove into the well of demonic power, an explosive aura erupted around their bodies in order to take shape!

“Rrrrrrrgh!!” Nowhere near spectacular in showing, it’d be a solitary bolt of lightning erupting from their being. An initially ivory aura transformed into a dazzling golden, Oga’s once ‘mildly’ tamed hair spiked aura, donning the same color as the earth below was subjugated to their presence. As the heavy exhaust spiraled outward, their taken form would be called nothing better than ascension. Their already massive pool of strength multiplied by leaps and bounds. It’s almost funny how this purely chaotic state felt natural to the two of them. This is it, Flame of Corruption.

A Demon King in the making has arrived to take on this challenge.

Truth be told? Their bodies had never felt light as they have before such a pure definition of carnage itself.

”Lets get one thing straight, old man. We’ve lost interest up in that cereal a long as hell time ago. Right now?”