Disclaimer: The works of Campione! and other used series are the sole property of their respective owners. No money will be accepted for this project, as it would be counterintuitive against this as a labor of passion and potentially illegal.
Well, the time has arrived. I've finally managed to complete the first entry into Iconoclast and upload it. This will be a two or three part prologue. I decided it would be best to divide it into subsections around the focus of each entry. This first one is focused on the MC, Jace Armell. Readers of Veneration will notice the substantial difference in character of Jace, hence why I gave him a priming introduction before starting the story proper. This rendition of Jace is more in line with how I envision him starting out. Plus this allows for more weight on reactions from Jace on the sudden changes to his physiology, and other newfound abilities.
For the remaining portions of the prologue, they'll focus on doling out the missing elements from Veneration's introduction. Such as how Jace ascended to Campione status. That will be the focus of the next prologue portion. As for this section we see Jace in action as a 'vanilla' human, prior to him becoming a Campione. It won't be as exciting as a fight between a Campione and a god, or two Campione, but it does introduce the base of Jace's fighting style.
Regarding the representation of criminal activity in Russia, note I don't have any experience with such matters. I chose this particular venue, as I am aware Russia has a rich history and culture of unarmed combat. It simply made sense that their would be organized fights such as I presented. As for the illegal nature of them? Gambling laws in Russia as per my knowledge are strict, so it made sense that they would be less than legal in the country if they weren't authorized by the state. Plus, I needed to make it relevant as to why Jace would be participating. Jace is heavily involved with the Russian mafia so he regularly participated in such activities.
For those of you unfamiliar with HighSchool DxD, devil society proper is dominated by the Pillar Clans, the high nobility essentially. The character introduced near the end of the chapter is a member of one of those Pillar Clans. Hence why I gave him a a surname of one of the 72 demons from the Ars Goetia, as the Pillar Clans are each descendants of one of those demons. I'll elaborate more on Iconoclast devils and other DxD crossovers later in story and in author notes.
As with Veneration, Iconoclast will contain linguistic notes and in character speech outside of English. If you believe my usage of said words or notes are wrong feel free to inform me. The only language I'm fluent in is English so mistakes are bound to happen.
Before anyone asks, I don't have an update schedule. Updates, unfortunately, will likely be sporadic. I'll try to get out a chapter every month or two, but my muse is fickle, my time limited, and this story an intensive effort to produce. Thank you for understanding.
As usual, please leave a review or PM me if you have questions or advice regarding the story. I want feedback. I can't promise when I'll respond, but I will read what you all send me.
Disclaimer: This entry contains physical violence.
Valorant out.
Iconoclast
Prologue: Part 1: Not all is as it Seems
Sometimes the hidden doesn't stay hidden. Sometimes it finds you. What will you do when it does?
(Moscow, March 20th)
The air was filled with the raucous din of men. Their shouts were so heavy and loud, they saturated every breath taken in and out. Hisses and cheers alike sounded out, a cacophony of emotion. It was enough to draw a man in, make him lose his prior composure and lose himself in the tumult around him.
For most in the warehouse this was true. For one man it was just another fight night.
This event had occurred many times. Though, it never occurred on a set basis, instead arranged when it was most convenient. And of course, undetectable by law enforcement.
Harsh white light bathed from the overhead lamps, bathed the 'arena' below. The light cast a sobering effect on those gathered below. The light made it clear as day what each man was wagering. His wages for the year. A precious family heirloom. His life if he was particularly unlucky.
There was no limit to what one could bet at this venue. There was no limit to what one could win. There was no limit to what one could lose either. The illegal nature of Fight Night presented opportunity and danger. A man could make his fortunate in a single bold move or lose everything in a reckless gamble. The only limit was what a man was willing to risk.
It was here in this den of danger, a certain man found himself. Not as a sideline spectator though. No. This man was mixed in to the depths of the danger. He was one of the fighters showcased in this tournament.
An electric pop emanated over the cacophony of the crowd. It sizzled for a moment, then a new voice, one louder than any single other voice roared over the crowd. From a loudspeaker a voice in Russian began speaking. "Are you ready to bet a fortune comrades? Because now is the time! We've finally gotten to the fight everyone's been waiting for! The championship bout!"
The crowd quieted for a moment, then broke out into a new excited chorus. They rushed to the 'ring', eager to see the upcoming fight. Desperate to know if their fortunes would come true.
The voice on the loudspeaker roared again. "You all know the skill and ferocity of the champion! He's been undefeated for a whole year!" A new row of cheers and jeers broke out from the crowd. The champion of Moscow's Fight Nights was a notorious figure in the Russian underground. He'd reigned in the underground bouts for a year, making and costing men large sums of money alike. He was a well-loved and well-hated figure in equal regard.
"The Bear Tzar! Jace Armell!" The louder speaker boomed, heralding the arrival of a man. Said man lived up to the title he was announced in. He stood head and shoulders above the crowd, though it was not just his impressive height that made him stand out. His towering frame was reminiscent of a Grizzly bear standing on its hind legs. His muscles were massive and heavily defined, testament to a hardy routine of bodybuilding. Yet he was not a perfect specimen of vigor, not with all the scars crisscrossing his body. Some of them were small things, others were large, impossible not to notice. They were of various kinds, but none were consistent with another. Some were faded cuts that intersected a large portion of the man's body. Others were nasty pieces of work, pure scar tissue, such as the large gouge mark over his right kidney.
Closer inspection revealed more than just scars though. His fingers were more than just burly, they were all slightly askew, as if each one had been broken repeatedly. His left knee was oddly shaped, a clear indication of it being out of alignment. His nose was bent, obviously having been smashed in the past so severely that it never set right. It was clear that this man had seen violence. Repetitive, harsh violence.
This was the first impression one gained upon observing Jace Armell. Second, was the piercing intensity of his amber eyes. They were not full of malice nor wrath. But the way they penetrated seemingly one's very being, down to their deepest recess, was unsettling. Those amber eyes were clearly evaluating, casting judgement on everything that they gazed upon. What that judgement was… if asked Jace would only say he was merely determining what kind of threat he was looking at.
Those eyes of judgement were currently staring across the 'arena' before Jace. Staring straight at his competition for the night. And Jace was very much displeased by the sight of said competition.
None of the faces were familiar, but that was irrelevant. The important factor was that there were three men standing across from him. Jace scowled. He had been told in advance the circumstances of the bout tonight as was the norm for all fighters who participated in Fight Night. The issue was he had not been told there would be three opponents.
Normally this would be against the norm for these underground fights. The fights were supposed to be brutal, but not one-sided. Of course, this was merely a norm, not a rule. If say a certain fighter went undefeated for a prolonged a period of time, and soundly defeated each and every opponent they faced, there might be a change of conditions for a fight. Such were the circumstances Jace had faced and agreed to alteration for tonight's fight. There was supposed to be more than one opponent tonight. But. Jace had only agreed to two opponents, not three.
Someone had altered the conditions of the fight. Jace had a sneaking suspicion of who. The bear of a man mentally cursed out the culprit, disdain building within him. It had to be Dimitriy. Dimitriy was a scumbag of a human being in Jace's mind, and that was saying something about the types of people Jace associated with in the criminal underground. Normally, aside from his mentor Jace kept everyone else in the business at arm's length. Suffice it to way Jace had little trust to dole out, as you never knew who was out to stab you in the back.
Dimitriy though was of a whole different level. The crime boss was downright vile, in Jace's humble opinion. Now, as a member of the Russian mafia, it was par for the course to prey upon others. Jace knew he was guilty of that, he performed countless acts of not just criminality but immorality. But Dimitriy took what was a business or means of survival, into a perverted art. The crime boss not only preyed upon the weaknesses of others, but he also enjoyed it. Coupled with his extreme pettiness, Dimitriy was a dangerous individual. Unfortunately, for Jace he had cost the crime boss a not so insignificant sum of money through his tenure as Fight Night champion.
Dimitriy had both the means and motivation to fix tonight's fight; it had to be him.
"For tonight's bout we have a rare circumstance to the challenger's side. Not one, not two, but three opponents to face the Bear Tzar! Say hello to the Sokolov brothers! Not to worry, even the champ agreed it needed a little liveliness for the bout. Afterall, who wants to see a bland beatdown from the champ again?! So, cast your bet, cast your fortunate, bet it all!" The loudspeaker roared, attempting to rouse the crowd. It was a mixed bag of reactions. Some cheered, believing there was finally a way to unseat the champion who had cost them more money than they could ever afford. Another portion shouted in outrage, having already cast their bets on Jace's predicted victory. A larger portion went silent unsure of who to bet on. They knew a three on one was a near guarantee of who would win but had seen the prowess of Jace Armell and were thus left uncertain. Lastly a small portion of spectators jeered at the sight of the three challengers. These men knew that no one could bring down the Bear Tzar; Jace Armell was just too indomitable.
Money changed hands; bets were cast and yet made fortunes awaited the moment they became real.
The loudspeaker roared again, announcing the beginning of the much-anticipated fight. "Alright comrades, the time has arrived. I hope you all cast your bet, because the match is about to begin. Who will win? The Bear Tzar? The undefeated champion who reigns like the king of Фигхт Нигхт. Or will it be the Sokolov brothers? The challengers born of the rugged wilderness of Siberia! One thing is for sure, this will be a fight to remember!" With that clarion call the fighters entered the arena.
Jace strode in from his side, his gait moderately off due to prior damage done to his left knee. Other than the limp, Jace's walk was smooth, giving away no indication of his emotional state. Jace ignored the crowd, prioritizing the bout over trivial matters such as spectators. Jace eyed the men across from him, analyzing them for every strength and weakness he could find. The men were tall, standing around 1.93m(6'4ft), but still far shorter than Jace. They were well-built, but instead of a body builder's physique they resembled more closely powerlifters. So, they were physically strong.
As Jace and the Sokolov brothers drew closer to each other, Jace noticed finer details. Each was covered in scars similar to him. Those scars spoke to a lifetime of fighting. Jace knew immediately from that and the way the men carried themselves it would be no easy fight.
The four men finally met in the center of the arena, the Sokolov brother in the middle stood in front of Jace, while the brothers on the left and right circled slightly to Jace's left and right.
The brothers eyed up Jace, while Jace continued his analyzation. So, it went for a moment, until the Sokolov brother on Jace's right, the one wearing an eyepatch, spoke up. His tone was one of disbelief. "A boy? The Bear Tzar is a boy? What bullshit is this?" The brother on the right spat out the curse, clearly annoyed by this circumstance. Jace, in comparison to the thirty-something Sokolov brothers, seemed much younger in appearance.
The Sokolov brother on Jace's left seemed inclined to quip at his brother's remark. "I heard he was young, but he barely looks older than a newborn babe. Are you sure you should be out here boy? Your mother might be worrying about you." The man grinned infuriatingly at his own taunt. But instead of retort or a snarl of anger, Jace merely looked cooly at the man before fixing his attention on the man directly in front of him.
The man held up hand to his chin, as if pondering something. His eyes seemed thoughtful rather than infuriated or taunting. "Tell me something Bear Tzar. How old are you?"
Jace raised an eyebrow, surprised that his opponent was addressing him by his title. Jace's deep bass rumbled out as he chose to answer. "Seventeen." Laconic, Jace chose to say no more, at least until the man said something else.
The man's eyes widened slightly, before his hand fell from his chin and he began to laugh. Jace tilted his head back slightly at the action but said nothing. His voice sightly cheerful the middle Sokolov brother said "The champion of Moscow and you're only seventeen. You have my respect, Bear Tzar. You can call me Vasiliy." Vasiliy offered a smile to Jace.
Vasiliy's brother seemed to hold a lesser opinion of the situation, as the one on the right was quick to denounce Jace's accomplishments. "Vasiliy, are you serious? I said this was a bad idea and that was before this shit. He's fucking seventeen, I'm not beating up a boy who can't even grow a beard yet."
Vasiliy looked to his irate brother and calmly voiced his opinion. "Boy? Mikhail if this was some unbloodied runt you 'd be right. But this man has defeated experienced fighters for over a year. If he was incapable, they wouldn't let him in this kind of sport. I wouldn't underestimate him brother." Vasiliy stressed the word man, stating with certainty about Jace's status.
Mikhail crossed his arms, digesting the words of his brother. He still seemed unconvinced. When he shifted his gaze to Jace, the larger teen looked him dead in the eye, the Bear Tzar's piercing amber gaze locked onto him. The unsettling intensity behind Jace's gaze provoked Mikhail to say something.
"What are you looking at boy?!" Mikhail snapped.
Still unphased by the outburst, Jace factually stated "You know as well as I do you need a good reason to forgo a match at this stage. Otherwise… I'm fairly certain you won't live out the year; not if the man I think sold this match to you gets upset."
All the Sokolov brothers blinked at that statement. Mikhail was the first to respond to the warning, snarling in anger, "You think we'll be intimidated by that. Boy I ought to-"
Vasiliy finally snapped showing an aggressiveness he'd otherwise lacked. "Mikhail shut up."
The stern tone of his brother caused Mikhail to recoil slightly. He frowned in displeasure but acquiesced. With his brother silent Vasiliy turned back to Jace. "I take it you know the man who contracted us personally. Why do you think a forfeit here might end with my brothers and me at the bottom of a river?"
Jace answered gravely, "Because the bastard is petty; to an extreme. If you back out here, he loses a large sum of money and even more dignity knowing his little ploy here couldn't take me down. He won't let that lie. No, he'll kill you out of nothing more than secondhand spite."
The brother on the left spoke up, rubbing his chin. "This man must really hate you, Armell, if he's willing to go that far. You two must have one hell of a relationship."
Jace's lips twitched in a momentary scowl, before smoothing out again. "He does. And the feeling's mutual."
The brother on the left had the audacity to grin, apparently amused. "To have such disdain at such a young age. I wonder though, if our contractor is that kind of man… how have you managed to survive for so long?"
Jace shrugged, as if the answer was less interesting than it seemed. "Luck, mostly. Plus, the bastard wants to crush me before he kills me, that way he can gloat. That's the reason he hired you three for this match."
Vasiliy nodded, accepting the answer. A second later though a suspicious light entered his eyes. Crossing his arms Vasiliy looked at Jace more intensely than before, as if trying to figure something out. "Bear Tzar, why tell us this? If we win, won't that just give your enemy cause to have you killed. Why warn us?"
Jace did something the Sokolov brothers had yet to see him do. He smiled. It was a predatory, vicious caricature of a smile. "Because, making sure you fight allows me to humiliate that bastard again." Jace answered, a sardonic glee entering his voice at the prospect of humiliating Dimitriy.
Vasiliy was taken aback for a second, then he chuckled. Both of his brothers gave him a perplexed look. Ignoring that, Vasiliy spoke, "Now I know you're telling the truth; no man can fake that kind of hatred. Well, while you're hardly doing this for us, I still want to thank you for looking out for my brothers and me." Vasiliy stuck out a hand and pointed it toward Jace.
Jace raised an eyebrow, understanding what the man was asking for. It should be noted that Jace Armell was not one for social niceties. They had been beat out of him, literally, by years of mingling with the criminal underground of Russia. Yet, Jace did respect one social interaction for sure. Jace never dismissed a debt owed, whether owed to him or one that he owed. His mentor had drilled that into his head.
Jace reached out to the proffered hand. He matched grip for grip with Vasiliy. The oldest Sokolov brother smiled good naturedly. Jace remained neutral. The two shook hands then released the other.
Vasiliy looked to both his brothers, asking them for their thoughts. "Mikhail, Kazimir, it seems we have little choice in this matter."
Mikhail sighed explosively, letting out his frustration. "Fine, brother. I guess we have no choice but to kick the boy's ass."
Kazimir shrugged, less perturbed than his brother. "I have no death wish, so I'm more than happy to fight. Hope you don't mind losing Armell."
Vasiliy smiled apologetically to Jace, "Sorry Bear Tzar, but I want my brothers to live, so we're trading your life for ours." Vasiliy had the dignity to bow to Jace.
Jace waved away the concern. "You got one thing wrong Vasiliy Sokolov."
All three brothers stared at Jace, wondering what he meant. "Oh?" Vasiliy sounded out with a tinge of wonder.
Jace nodded. "Yeah. I'm the one who's going to win." The giant of a human stated with unshakeable confidence.
The bell signaling the match's start rang out.
()
The Sokolov brothers tensed up, preparing to fight. Vasiliy signaled to his brothers to fan out, using their numerical advantage to encircle the Bear Tzar. To their surprise Jace didn't bother stepping back to avoid the encirclement. Nor did he rush one of the brothers to break the circle. Kazimir suspected this was due to the Bear Tzar's bad leg, rendering him unable to move swiftly. Mikhail chalked it up to arrogance, believing the bear of a man was sure of his own invincibility. Vasiliy though, saw the glint in Jace's eyes. The Bear Tzar was waiting. The oldest Sokolov brother deduced that Jace was waiting for the brothers to attack. But the reason was a mystery to Vasiliy. Waiting was dangerous, it would allow the brothers to strike together, preventing the Bear Tzar from defending effectively.
At least that was what Vasiliy had thought. It was only when the brothers did attack that they understood why Jace was content to wait.
The Sokolov brothers struck together, Vasiliy coming from the front, while Kazimir and Mikhail attempted to crush the Bear Tzar between them. The younger Sokolov brothers collided into Jace, ramming their shoulders into his sides. The Bear Tzar took it unflinching, standing upright despite the dual forces affecting him. When Vasiliy came, instead of his fist colliding into Jace's face as expected, it struck the towering teen's muscled chest. Jace absorbed the strike with a mere grunt, then launched a counterattack. The Bear Tzar's fist, unlike Vasiliy's, stuck its intended target.
Vasiliy's head snapped back at a sickening speed. His body followed, the oldest Sokolov brother nearly knocked off his feet as he fell backward. Vasiliy landed in a heap, his limbs splayed out. He lay still there, the only movement being the rise and fall of his chest.
"Eлдер бротхер!" Kazimir shouted hoarsely, as he witnessed his eldest brother being knocked out. He didn't have long to worry though, the Bear Tzar was already on turning his attention to the two remaining brothers. Jace lifted his arms up, then brought his elbows down, catching the two shorter men, on the tops of their heads. It wasn't an especially hard strike, but it did the job of off-balancing Mikhail and Kazimir. Jace capitalized on this opening, swiftly grabbing Kazimir by the head and throwing him at Mikhail. Mikhail instinctually caught his brother. Just as the middle Sokolov brother was going to curse he caught sight of the Bear Tzar looming over them.
Jace brought his fist down, aiming to smash it into the back of Kazimir's head. Mikhail, thinking quickly, maneuvered his brother, getting his head just out of the way of Jace's fist. Kazimir's eyes widened as he felt the air whip by his head. Before the youngest Sokolov brother could react properly, Jace snaked his forward arm around Kazimir's neck. The Bear Tzar yanked the relatively smaller man backward, tightening the hold on his neck. Kazimir began struggling, desperately trying to get free. It would do him no good, if cinched perfectly a rear naked choke hold was essentially unescapable. Maybe if Kazimir was the larger or physically stronger party, he could, potentially, break free of the hold. But he wasn't.
He wasn't alone though.
Mikhail wasn't about to let his brother be choked out, though. The middle Sokolov brother ran, rushing to free Kazimir. Jace saw this out of the edge of his vision. As Mikhail attempted to circle around the Bear Tzar, Jace swung Kazimir around, keeping him aimed at his brother.
"Fuck. Just hold on литтле бротхер Mikhail swore, unable to get a clear shot at Jace, as the giant of a human kept swinging Kazimir in between them. The middle Sokolov brother needed to do something quickly, if he wanted to rescue his brother. Mikhail knew exactly what he needed to do, but it hinged on if Kazimir was conscious enough to assist him.
Kazimir was conscious. Not by much, as the chokehold did its work, but enough to understand the situation. The youngest Sokolov brother stopped his thrashing, and instead performed a simple gesture aimed at his brother. Kazimir pointed two fingers at himself and mouthed their own last name. Jace saw this and understood it was some signal between the brothers. But he had no way of knowing what said signal meant. Mikhail on the other hand understood his brother perfectly. It was an old signal, one from when they had been young boys getting into trouble. Mikhail smiled grimly as he nodded to confirm their plan of action.
Mikhail pushed forward, closing the small distance between him and the others. Kazimir using the last of his strength, grabbed onto Jace's arms, digging his fingers in so harshly, his nails drew blood. Jace, while not knowing the specifics of what they were attempting to do, knew it was bad for him. He attempted to back pedal, but his movements were slow and cumbersome, a consequence of his bad knee and the 113.4kg(250lbs) of Kazimir weighing him down.
Mikhail capitalized on the slow speed, reaching the duo swiftly. Once he was in range, Mikhail lashed out with his hands. Jace thought at first that Mikhail was attempting to pull Kazimir out of his grasp. The moment Mikhail's hands grasped onto Jace's forearms; the Bear Tzar realized his error. Jace attempted to withdraw, letting go of Kazimir. Attempted to being the keyword. Kazimir was still conscious, albeit said consciousness was fuzzy. Still, he had enough awareness to keep his grasp on Jace. Between the two brothers, Jace was unable to pull back, stuck in position over Kazimir.
Mikhail seized this opportunity. He planted his right foot hard… right into Kazimir's right leg. The middle Sokolov brother pushed off with all the might in his leg muscles. At the same time, he pulled himself up on Jace, basically using taller teen's arms as ropes. It was in that instant Jace fully realized the tactic being employed against him.
Mikhail rose in the air, as he pulled the Bear Tzar down with his body weight and pushed Kazimir out of the giant of a man's grasp. Mikhail reared his dominant arm back, fist clenched, then in a splint second, swung with as much force as he could muster. Mikhail's fist collided with Jace's face, forcing the Bear Tzar's head to the side.
Jace stumbled backward, reeling from the punch. Mikhail landed on his feet, getting his bearings. Kazimir landed on his face, nearly unconsciousness.
Mikhail rushed to his brother's side, pulling him up. "Get up литтле бротхер! We need to kick this bastard's ass!" Mikhail roared into his brother's ear.
Kazimir sputtered, as light reignited in his eyes, and oxygen flooded his lungs. Seeing his brother's proffered hand, he grasped it and the two brought the youngest Sokolov brother to his feet. "Dammit. That boy is strong." Kazimir gingerly rubbed at his throat, still raw from Jace's chokehold. "Do you think that did the trick бротхер?" Kazimir hopefully asked.
Mikhail observed the state of the Bear Tzar and eloquently stated his observation. "Fuck no."
Jace was not only upright, but he was also very much staring straight at the Sokolov brothers. The Bear Tzar strangely enough was also smiling. It was slight, but it was sharp and showed plenty of teeth.
"Бротхер is it just me or is that one creepy smile." Kazimir quipped.
Mikhail frowned, offput by the sharp toothed smile as well. "No shit." Mikhail remarked offhand before speaking louder to Jace. "Oi. Armell. You got a thing for getting your shit beat in. Because I've never seen someone smile after I've punched them in the face."
Jace's smile turned into a smirk. "No. It's just been a while since I've had an actual fight." Lacking any follow up, the laconic statement caused both brothers to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Seeing this Jace shrugged, merely saying "I prefer a good fight over a one-sided beatdown."
Kazimir chuckled, drawing a glance from Mikhail. "Eлдер бротхер was right. You are dangerous, most men prefer to avoid excess risk. I don't want to imagine the mind of a man that enjoys danger."
Mikhail frowned at his brother's words though he did not refute them. "Yeah, бротхер. This is going to be a pain in the ass."
Jace shrugged, his powerful shoulder muscles rippling as he did so. The Sokolov brothers knew the stakes in this business as well as he did. If they weren't prepared to lose a fight, that wasn't Jace's fault. He'd at least given them warning about the consequences if they prematurely forfeited the match. That had been more than generous in his opinion.
The Bear Tzar refocused on the fight at hand. He reassessed the situation. Daring a quick glance, Jace observed Vasiliy was still lying unconscious on the ground. Hopefully it stayed that way. As much as Jace did enjoy a good fight, he also wanted to win. The oldest Sokolov brother rising back up, would complicate that idea. As for the other two Sokolov brothers, it had been a pity he couldn't choke out Kazimir. Jace would deal with it. Though, now the brothers would likely be more cautious, understanding far better Jace's strength. The question then was how to proceed.
Jace could simply bet on his greater physical prowess to carry the day. But with it still being two on one, that was not the best plan. Besides, Jace was never one to not stack the odds in his favor.
To put together a plan though, Jace needed to assess every bit of information on the situation he had. Most importantly, the differences between the still conscious Sokolov brothers. Mikhail was a firecracker. His temper was obvious, and it seemed able to provoke him to action easily. Kazimir was arrogant, or at the very least had a tendency underestimate his opponents, if the way he had misjudged Jace earlier was any indication. Though Jace suspected that the earlier near loss had forced the youngest Sokolov brother to reconsider his opinion of Jace. If that was the case Jace wouldn't be able to use that. Which left Mikhail.
Thirty seconds had passed since Kazimir was nearly choked out. In those thirty seconds, no one had advanced or made any offensive actions. Rather than charge straight away as they had done earlier, the Sokolov brothers were engaged in a discussion. After the prior happenings, Kazimir and Mikhail opted to plan to bring down the Bear Tzar, rather than recklessly rush in.
That would not do, Jace thought. So, he intervened.
"You two are taking a long time. Did I scare you?" Jace casually commented. His words carried across the din of the watching crowd, reaching the Sokolov brothers.
Mikhail's eyes narrowed as the taunt scraped against his ears. "Hardly, brat." Mikhail retorted.
Jace raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Truly? Seems like to me you are, after all you're all the way over there instead of right here." Jace pointed down to the floor at his feet.
Mikhail sneered as if contemptuous, but anger bled into his tone. "Don't worry brat, we'll be there to kick your ass in a moment."
"I don't know." Jace tilted his head slightly as if pondering something. Which he was. Specifically, what would enrage Mikhail the most. "Maybe without Vasiliy, you're just lost little birds. Ones that can't do anything on their own. How ashamed he must be."
Mikhail's eyes widened in disbelief, then the color of rage flooded into them. "Bastard!" The middle Sokolov brother roared. If it had just been him insulted Mikhail might have kept his cool. He was fiery, but not stupid. Jace wisely though had gambled on something that Mikhail valued highly. His familial bonds. Mikhail loved his brothers, to a fault. If they were insulted, he took that as a far greater offense than if he himself was the target. Naturally, Jace's taunt sparked a wrath in the middle Sokolov brother. One that he could not ignore.
Mikhail charged, running straight for Jace, leaving behind Kazimir, who uselessly cried for him to stop. The enraged man acted like an bull, ramming himself into Jace, hoping to take the bear of a man down. Mikhail had thrown all his weight, at a dead sprint into the tackle. It should have moved Jace, even with the size disparity. Jace did budge, but he neither toppled nor lost his footing.
This time it was Mikhail that found himself in the grip of the Bear Tzar. Jace hadn't wasted the prime opportunity Mikhail had given him. The bear of a man, as soon as he stabilized from the tackle, clamped his arm around Mikhail's head. Jace's bicep pressed in from the side against Mikhail's carotid artery, while his forearm closed off the man's windpipe. His other arm clamped around the choking arm's tricep.
It was… an unorthodox but known chokehold. Unorthodox because it was nearly impossible to use in a real fight. Mainly because to do so the fighter defending against the chokehold can use their hold body to try and break free. Typically, such a hold was used as humiliation by a far larger individual against a smaller individual, such as an older brother against a younger sibling. Most experienced fighters would never attempt to use it. Owing to the substantial greater strength needed, in comparison to the opponent, to successfully execute it. And Mikhail was no weakling. Jace though was ridiculously strong. Strong enough to successfully execute the chokehold, as Mikhail was soon finding out to his dismay.
The world slows down for the three fighters. Each understands the crucial juncture they're at.
Eight. Mikhail attempted to push his head out of the chokehold. Yet Jace held firm, with the Sokolov brother going nowhere.
Seven. Mikhail unleashes several punches to Jace's abdomen, hoping it would force the bear of a man to let go in pain. Jace endures it, tightening his abdominals and the chokehold.
Six. Kazimir having begun running shortly after Mikhail, closes in on Jace and his brother.
Five. Kazimir is but a step away.
Four. Kazimir reaches the pair, doles out a punishing punch to Jace's face, turning the Bear Tzar's head to the side. Jace's eyes flash, he endures, keeping his hold on Mikhail.
Three. Kazimir became desperate as his brother's struggles grew weak. He aims his next strike much lower. Striking Jace in the groin.
Two. Jace's eyes bulge, as he lets loose a thing close to a yelp of pain and growl mixed together. Yet he holds tight to Mikhail.
One. Mikhail goes limp, his struggles cease. Kazimir shouts in outrage, unleashing another punch to Jace's face.
Zero.
Jace released the chokehold, letting Mikahail's unconscious body fall to the floor. The bear of a man rose to his full height. He stepped over the fallen body, moving straight toward Kazimir. The youngest Sokolov brother fell back a step, then two as he hastily moved away from the Bear Tzar. The two remaining fighters stared at each other for a moment.
Kazimir saw a towering opponent, who downed both his brothers. The youngest Sokolov brother breathes deeply, gearing himself up for the next round of action. His brothers might be down, but he's still standing.
Jace saw a still standing opponent, an appreciable threat. The other Sokolov brothers might be down, but it doesn't mean Kazimir isn't dangerous on his own. Jace knows this fight isn't over till either he or Kazimir have given up or lie out cold on the ground.
Jace broke the silence that had enveloped them since he'd choked out Mikhail. "That actually hurt." Jace's tone was gruff and a little tight.
Kazimir blinked, then half smirked, as he stifled a small chuckle. "Good to hear. I was beginning to think you weren't human with how you just ate everything we threw at you."
Jace snorted, then spoke in a dry tone. "Most people say that. Last I checked I was human."
Kazimir smiled more fully, if bitterly, now amused. "Armell, I've never seen a man take a hit like that to the balls and not flinch. You are most certainly not like any human I've ever met."
Jace looked at Kazimir, as he arched an eyebrow in mild confusion. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"
The youngest Sokolov brother just shook his head, brushing off the inquiry. Kazimir raised his hands in a loose Samba stance, refocusing on the matter at hand. He breathed deeply, exhaled, then said what he knew would be the last dialogue of the match. "Are you ready Armell? I'm going beat you into the ground for my brothers." His tone lacked the swagger it had earlier, as Kazimir resolved to continue a battle he knew wasn't in his favor.
Jace nodded, as he mirrored Kazimir's stance. "I am." Jace motions Kazimir to come at him.
The youngest Sokolov brother obliged him. Kazimir ran at Jace, but not with the prior gusto he'd displayed. Instead, Kazimir was running warily. He knew he couldn't take Jace head on and be hopeful of emerging the victor, the Bear Tzar was simply too strong. But, Kazimir had taken notice of his weakness, and planned to exploit it accordingly.
When Kazimir reached Jace, he came at him obliquely. Kazimir's aim wasn't to exchange blows with the Bear Tzar, he had something else in mind. So, when he launched a quick, if not so powerful kick, and Jace managed to drag the targeted leg back, Kazimir didn't follow up with an immediate attack. Rather he used the momentum remaining from his run, and the new momentum of his kick to plant his foot forward. Kazimir then pushed off his hind foot, shifting his weight onto his forward leg. Placing him slightly behind Jace. In this kind of situation, the other fighter would simply adjust his footing to keep his opponent in front of him. Kazimir wasn't particularly fast, if efficient, in his pacing. Jace was plenty experienced and coordinated in a fight to do what he should have done. Except for his bum leg. The less than perfect condition of the knee kept Jace from swiftly shifting his weight around. A dangerous factor in a fight with an experienced opponent. Something which the youngest Sokolov brother most certainly was.
Kazimir lashed out again, but with a stronger roundhouse, catching Jace on the side of his bad knee. Jace did not drop to one knee, but he did stumble backward. Kazimir did not let this opportunity pass him by. He dropped down low, nearly bent over, as he followed the Bear Tzar. Kazimir closed the small distance separating him and Jace, grasping the Bear Tzar's leg. Specifically, the good one. Kazimir heaved upward with a mighty roar, forcing all Jace's weight onto his bad leg. Jace made that mix of near pained yelp and growl again, as his knee screamed in protest. He couldn't keep it upright, his knee just refused to do it, not with Kazimir still pushing.
Jace fell to the earth, landing with an audible thud.
Kazimir released his grip on Jace's good leg, quickly going down for a mount position over the prone Bear Tzar.
Just as Jace smiled.
The Bear Tzar's good leg came sweeping around, catching the back of Kazimir's left leg. It was not a great amount of force, but it was sufficient to knock over the unprepared Kazimir, sending him into an uncontrolled fall. As the youngest Sokolov brother fell, Jace threw an arm up past Kazimir's head. Hooking his arm around Kazimir's neck, he pulled down and to the left, throwing Kazimir in the narrow window of him falling to the earth. Kazimir landed on the ground face first, stunning him for a moment.
The Bear Tzar seized that moment.
Jace rolled over, then pushed up till he was kneeling. He surged forward, ignoring the squawk of protest from his bad knee, and practically jumped overtop Kazimir's prone form. Just as Kazimir's head rose up from the cold concrete, Jace's arm snaked around his neck. Despite the danger, the youngest Sokolov brother was slow to respond, still dazed from the head injury he'd just received. The Bear Tzar cinched the choke hold, clamping down on his opponent's windpipe. The sudden lack of oxygen snapped Kazimir out of his daze, his mind and body acutely aware of the danger he was now in. Kazimir thrashed like a beast, desperately trying to break his way out of the choke hold. Jace though, was having none of it. He could practically taste sweet victory, and he wanted to win. All he needed to do was keep the Sokolov brother in the chokehold for a little longer and he'd be victorious.
Kazimir did not give up easily, even as his body slowly numbed and his consciousness faded. He fought, clawing at Jace's arm with his fingers, scouring lines of blood as he struggled. Yet it was all for naught. A rear naked chokehold was not so easily escaped from. There was no technique to break free. Unless one was strong enough to flip their opponent over their own body, there was little they could do. Kazimir did attempt this, but Jace countered by pulling back on the choke hold, keeping them locked in position.
It was over. Kazimir went utterly limp as his brain shut down all but the vitally necessary functions to preserve his life.
Jace released the choke hold once he was sure Kazimir wasn't playing dead. The Bear Tzar fell backward onto his posterior, where he sat, just releasing a few exerted breaths. He spoke mostly lightly, commenting on the fight to no one in particular. "Good thing everyone always goes for the leg." Jace looked down once he finally caught his breath, checking that Kazimir was properly breathing. Despite them being opponents just mere moments ago, Jace held no ill will to the Sokolov brothers. If anything, he was impressed by their determination to win, and the tenacity to fight even as the odds stacked against them. He could respect that kind of resolve. They weren't very different from him in that regard. That said he didn't feel bad for them either. They'd been in this kind of life for a long time, longer than Jace by far; they knew the stakes. Survival was always one wrong move away.
The Bear Tzar shook his head, deciding he'd spent enough time on the morals of something that was already done. He rose slowly, no longer in a rush, now that the fight was over. Once he was at full height, Jace surveyed his surroundings. Organizers for the fight were already checking over the Sokolov brothers, taking on the role of paramedic. It would be problematic if one of them died. Dumping a body always risked alerting the authorities, which was of course undesirable for the various spectators, fighters, and organizers.
One of the organizers in the arena waved his hand in the air, signaling to a comrade. An electric hiss emanated in the air once again. "Comrades the battle is over! It was a fierce battle, yes! The mighty Bear Tzar fought in the style of his namesake, overpowering his opponents like a fierce grizzly! The Sokolov brothers stood no chance! You heard right. The champ stands undefeated, taking another victory!" The loudspeaker roared out. The declaration prompted acted like a signal, getting the crowd going. Jubilant cheers and cries of outrage sounded out, as men let their luck be known.
Jace ignored it all. He'd cared little for the sentiments of the crowd, aside from the cut he earned from all the men who bet on him winning. Jace strode out of the arena, heading toward the bookie nearest to him.
A thin smile on his lips, Jace collected his earnings; a sum worth tens of thousands of U.S dollars. The bookie assumed it was due to the unusually large amount of money Jace had won. While Jace did appreciate the money it was not the primary reason he was smiling. Jace was simply pleased with the outcome of the fight. It had been tougher than the announcer had indicated. At several junctures things could have turned out very differently. Especially if Vasiliy had remained conscious. But Jace had not only won, but he had also won against three experienced opponents simultaneously. That was a good day in his book.
() (Moscow, March 20th)
It was roughly an hour after the fight that Jace found himself in his apartment. With his, being a relative term. Jace certainly did not own the apartment, that was the purview of the landlord. But said landlord was content with renting out the place to a minor with no legal supervision and asked no questions. All Jace had to do was pay a moderately large sum every month.
Jace currently had a first aid kit sitting on the table in front of him. He'd come out relatively unscathed compared to other fights, but he still needed to tend to the scratches; lest they become infected. It was as he applied the disinfectant, he heard the exterior door open.
That presented a problem. Only Jace and the landlord had the keys for this apartment. And Jace knew that the landlord would never let himself in without Jace's prior approval. It went along with the 'no questions asked' policy. Therefore, someone was entering the apartment with unknown intentions.
Jace turned his attention from his wounds to the door far behind him. Across the dining room/kitchen and what amounted to the living room, Jace saw a stranger standing in his doorway.
The stranger was tall, easily clearing 1.83m(6ft). Well, dressed in a pristine suit, the likes of which Jace had never seen before. Finishing off his appearance the stranger possessed very fine features for a human, nearly impossibly so. The man lastly stood with an air of dignity, and superiority. If Jace was a historian, he would have thought the stranger an aristocrat. Instead Jace was focused on other details. Such as if the man was unarmed and seemingly alone.
Jace's face stayed stoic during the brief stare down between him and the stranger. After a few brief seconds Jace blithely asked "Are you here to kill me?". It was a blunt question, but Jace was a blunt person.
The stranger arched an eyebrow slightly. "No, I am not.", was his immaculate reply.
Jace weighed the response. It might be a lie. But Jace did not sense any indication of deceit. He asked another question just to make sure. "Did a man named Dimitriy send you?"
The stranger scowled, as if insulted. "No one orders me human." Came the agitated reply.
Jace took notice of the way the man called him human but thought not much of it. If the stranger wasn't here on Dimitriy's orders, Jace was curious as to what the stranger was doing here. "That so. Then come on in." Jace motioned with two fingers for the stranger to enter.
The stranger imperiously lifted his head as if he was doing Jace a favor by consenting.
The stranger crossed the living room and entered the dining room/kitchen. He looked over the entirety of the space, and his lips turned down as if disgusted with what he observed. It was rather utilitarian in the apartment, a necessity of Jace's lifestyle. Jace did not understand why the stranger seemed displeased, but he really did not care either. Jace had already turned back to dressing his wounds.
Casually Jace reignited the conversation, "So, you're not here to kill me. That makes me curious as to what you want. Not a lot of people bother me when I'm not on the job."
The stranger focused on Jace. When he spoke, his chin was held up high in the air. "I was looking for a new member of my peerage when I happened across your match. I was mildly impressed. You fought well for a human."
Jace tilted his head, curious as to the strange way the stranger was speaking. Peerage? Human?
None of it meant anything to Jace. But he chose not to comment on it. He needed to get down to the stranger's intentions. "Thanks for the compliment. But that doesn't explain what you want from me." Jace's tone sharpened ever so slightly, not enough to sound hostile, but enough to sound skeptical of the stranger.
The stranger adopted a bored expression as he brought up a hand. The stranger looked over his nails as if checking for any imperfections in what were well manicured nails. "As I said, I was searching for a new member of my peerage. I have need of someone with your skills in battle. You performed admirably… for a human. I intend for you to join my peerage. I assume you'll agree." The stranger spoke as if what he was saying was supposed to make sense to Jace.
"Peerage, eh? You'll have to explain that, as I have no idea what that means." Jace refrained from turning around to make eye contact with the stranger. He was still busy wrapping the gauze around his arm.
The stranger dropped his hand as a thoughtful expression formed on his face. "I see you're not familiar with the world beyond your lowly human mundanity. It seems it falls to me you educate you on the proper station of humans and their betters." The stranger's words made Jace's eyes narrow. It was clear to the giant of a man, that this mysterious stranger was one of three things. Insane. High. Or. Attempting to confuse Jace.
Jace could readily deal with the first two. It was the third possibility that was of concern. It was also the most likely as the stranger had found Jace in the matter of an hour and entered his apartment with ease. The stranger was clearly speaking nonsense in order to catch Jace off-guard. It was the only logical explanation. Jace simply needed to deduce why this man had been sent after him and by who. Now to facilitate that…
Jace turned his chair around, finally facing the stranger face to face. His amber eyes bored into the stranger's gray irises. "You make it sound like you're not human." Jace's tone was neutral, giving away no indication of his opinion.
The stranger's chin seemed to rise even higher, if it was possible, as he spoke imperiously. "I am Andros Paimon, a noble son of the House of Paimon, one of the 72 Pillars families of Hell. You stand before a High-Class devil; be grateful I have chosen to grace you with my presence."
Jace folded his arms in front of him, tilting his head in skepticism. "Big claim there. I've never heard of devils being real and traveling from Hell to Earth. You'll have to understand my skepticism."
The self-proclaimed devil's expression became bored again. He was clearly less than thrilled that Jace was not taking him at face value. A tired sigh escaped Andor's lips. "It is bothersome that you humans choose to live in ignorance. Very well. I suppose a demonstration is the quickest way to for you to understand." Andros finished speaking, then… did something Jace was not expecting.
He manifested batlike wings from his back.
Jace blinked, attempting to make sure he was not suffering a concussion from the earlier fight. Nope. Once his sight cleared the dark pinions sprouting from Andros Paimon were still there. The wings flexed, casting a slight breeze that caressed Jace's frame.
"Heh. Never seen that before. You might be telling the truth." Jace stated blithely.
Andros smirked a little at the statement. "Mhhm. Most humans behave far more… erratically when presented with the 'supernatural' as your kind call it. It seems you're far sturdier than most."
Jace just shrugged. "Who knows, maybe I'm just dreaming right now. Don't see any reason to freak out. Not like it would do me any good." The giant of a man slowly stood up, till he was completely upright. Jace slowly turned around, heading toward the sink behind the table.
The revealed devil arched an eyebrow, wondering just what Jace was doing. "What are you doing human?"
"Getting water. I'm thirsty." Jace casually called out, as he proceeded to reach the counter where the sink was located. He reached down toward a drawer and opened it. He reached into the drawer and pulled out an object. The devil Andros was unable to see through Jace's muscular bulk to see what the object was. It was only as Jace turned around that Andros realized he'd been played.
Jace was holding a black pistol. The giant of a man pulled the slide back on the pistol, chambering a round with an audible clack. With the deadly instrument loaded and primed, Jace aimed the gun. Dead center onto the devil.
Andros's eyes narrowed, a frown appearing on his lips. "Just what do you think you're doing human?" His tone lost much of the belittlement of earlier, replaced with cold disdain.
"Making a point. I don't understand what you are or what exactly why you came here. But I do understand you clearly have less than stellar intentions regarding me. So let me make this clear. Try anything and I'll put a bullet in you." Jace firmly said, as if daring the devil to disagree.
Andros rather than be afraid of the apparent danger he was in seemed far more cross. "Human I do not like to be threatened." He sternly warned.
"Tough. Don't like it get out and don't come back. You want to talk you'll do it like this. Again, try anything and I will empty this whole mag in you and let Englishman clean up the body. Make a choice, I don't have all day." Jace rebuked the devil.
A thin smile played across Andro's face, which caused Jace's eyes to narrow. "I have an alternative idea."
Jace was displeased and let it be known. "Don't want to hear it. My finger is getting twitchy. "
The smile on Andro's face turned vicious. "Lower the gun." He commanded.
Jace decided he had enough of this devil. He'd given ample warning, and the non-human had decided to flaunt it away. Englishman would chide Jace on whacking someone off so close to his own residence, but Jace decided under the circumstances it was permissible. He began to squeeze the trigger, intent on killing the devil.
Except he couldn't.
Jace found himself unable to pull the trigger. It was like his body wouldn't obey him. Worse still he was slowly lowering the gun from its ready position. What the hell was this?!
"Mhhm. Strange most would have already obeyed; it seems you're insolent to no end, human. No matter. You'll obey once I've placed an Evil Piece in you. I do believe a Rook is most fitting for someone of your kind." Andros mused to himself.
"What did you do to me?" Jace demanded harshly.
Andros smirked, that still vicious essence pervading him. "Oh, that? Just an application of my family's inherent magic. Binding lesser creatures to our will is our birthright."
Magic? Why not. If this devil was real, it made sense magic was real as well. That said… Jace needed to do something. Jace could feel some kind of unseen force working on him. Trying to pull him along against his will. He pushed against it. At first it did nothing. But Jace was stubborn, he kept trying. Slowly, slowly, Jace's arm stopped falling. Then. It began rising.
The devil's expression turned to shock. "What?! You're resisting my will?!" Andros's expression swiftly turned to outrage. He gestured imperiously, snapping two fingers downward, as if willing Jace's arm to lower. Jace could feel the pressure on him rise, but he kept fighting.
The two were locked in that dual of wills; with the Jace attempting to raise his arm and shoot the devil, and Andros attempting to dominate the human defying him. Both the human and devil's expressions turned into one of exertion, as they fought their metaphysical battle. Andros though was losing. Jace's arm came back up, nearly in a position to fire.
Andros in one last snarl, hastily gestured with his arm out, a mandala appearing at the forefront of his hand. Jace's whole world went dark, just as the gun was brought to the proper position.
Andros's expression betrayed his inner thoughts, grim realization and an appreciable amount of fear plastered across his face. That had been far closer than the devil wanted. Just what kind of human was this Jace Armell to require not only his binding magic, but also hypnosis? Andros smoothed out his internal state, regaining his composure. No matter, he had complete control over this human now, with no chance of him disobeying again. "Now dispose of that weapon." Andros ordered. The devil then turned around, began walking out of the apartment, and ordered Jace to do the same.
As a result, Andros never saw the sharp gleam in Jace's eyes as they fixed on the devil's back.
() (Moscow, March 20th)
It was late into the night when Andros and Jace traversed the streets of Moscow. At this hour few pedestrians were out and about. Meaning few accosted the duo, unfortunately for Jace. The handful of encounters were short, due to a liberal amount of hypnotization magic Andros applied. Leaving little chance for them to lead to Jace's freedom.
Eventually the pair reached a more affluent section of Moscow. The buildings were of higher quality and better maintained compared to the sections Jace was primarily used to. After a short walk into a business district, they reached an antiquities store. Rather than go through the front, they walked around the back of the store. At the back a large ornate wooden door was in place. Andros walked up to the door, grasping the knocker and giving three short knocks.
A section of the door at Andros's eye level swung backward, letting out rays of electrical light. On the other side of the door from Andros, a pair of red eyes could be seen. A voice, presumably belonging to the owner of the red eyes, quietly spoke. "Ah, lord Paimon, ready to return home I take it. I see you've got a guest with you as well. Transport for two then, yes?"
"Indeed. I managed to find a useful addition to my peerage this time. Now open the door." Andros confirmed.
"Of course." The voice humbly responded.
The door swung open into the building shortly after. Andros stepped in, ordering Jace to follow. They passed another tall man(?) as they entered. He bowed in deference as Andros passed. "Good travels Lord Paimon, and I do hope the newest addition to your peerage aids you in your future endeavors." The man(?) humbly voiced.
Andros gave only a small nod of his head in acknowledgement. Jace still being hypnotized said nothing. Andros and Jace walked into the room lightly decorated with curios and other antiques on shelves. The main focus of the room though was on the mandala painted onto the center of the floor. It seemingly hummed as it projected a dim white light. The mandala was intricate, various layers of overlapping symbols, each one painstakingly drawn onto the stone.
Andros and Jace stepped onto the center of the mandala. After a sideways glance to ensure Jace was on the mandala, the scion of house Paimon gave the order to send them. The red eyed man(?) obliged. He raised both arms, twin mandalas forming at the ends of his hands. The mandalas spun as the red eyed man(?) channeled arcane energy. Whatever he was doing caused the large magic circle on the floor to glow brighter. A flash of light flared from the magical circle.
Then Andros and Jace were gone.
() (Somewhere on Earth, March 20th)
Andros and Jace reappeared in a subterranean cavern, the magic of the teleportation circle having done its job. Andros quickly perused his surroundings. They were not alone. Other individuals and groups were moving to and through the cavern. Presumably they were devils such as Andros. He paid little attention to them, more focused on the centerpiece of the cavern.
An onyx black gate. It stood tall and regal, casting imposing shadows despite the low level of light in the cavern. It was masterfully carved, with no discernable leftover edge lines from being chiseled. It was shaped as an rounded archway, a perfect u-formation. On either side of the gate and part of it stood an imposing figure. Formed from the same onyx black stone, the figures were fierce and intimidating. They were devils baring horns on their brows, with spaded tails, and bat-like wings thrusting from their backs. They carried spears held upright. The most eye-catching detail of the Onyx Gate was the shimmering veil of distorted light within the frame of the gate. It seemed to quiver in place as if filled with arcane energy.
Andros smiled for the first time, pleasantly upon seeing the gate and its guardians. "Ah, it will be good to return home. Spending too much time in the human world is a tedious affair." Andros spoke to himself. He strode towards the Onyx Gate with Jace following behind. After crossing the thirty-some-odd meters between their arrival spot and the Onyx Gate Andros stopped. Two guards, devils going by their protruding bat wings, slammed the butt of their spears on the ground.
"Hail. Who seeks entrance to Inferno?" The guard on the right asked.
Andros straightened up before speaking. "Andros Paimon, of the noble Pillar Clan Paimon."
The guard on the left observed Andros and his companion. "Who accompanies you scion of Paimon? He looks to be a human." The guard inquired.
Andros gestured flippantly toward Jace. "A new peerage member. Well soon to be, anyways."
The guard on the left eyed Jace and noted the near absent glaze in his eyes. The guard simply shrugged. The law of Inferno on such matters was complex and often unclear. Besides, the guard knew better than to challenge a Pillar Clan member without good reason. "Very well. You may proceed." The guards gestured to the gate.
Andros smugly stepped forward. It had taken only one day to find a new peerage member. This human would prove to be a powerful fighter once he had been inducted into the peerage. Andros could already foresee the future Rating Game matches he would win. As he was lost in thought, Andros Paimon failed to notice the sudden ignition of consciousness in Jace's eyes.
If he had the future might have turned out very differently.
Jace surged forward, throwing his arms around the devil's neck. He squeezed, choking Andros. The guards, sensing the altercation, turned around and shouted at the belligerent human. Jace turned himself and Andros around.
"Not one step closer or I snap his neck!" Jace hollered at the guards.
The guards grimaced, unsure of what to do. They needed to neutralize the situation, but they couldn't risk Andros Paimon's death. Thus, they stood in place, weapons drawn.
Andros seeing that they weren't rushing to his rescue and feeling the depletion of air in his lungs, panicked. He cast a spell blasting himself and Jace into the portal less than a meter from their backs. The magical energy of the spell interacted with the portal of the Onyx Gate, causing it to frantically waver.
Normally the Onyx Gate would send entrants straight to Inferno, more commonly known as Hell. But that was when the gate was stabilized. If for any reason the gate became unstable its destination could become completely random. Much like right now as the interference from Andro's spell caused the dimensional portal to become chaotic.
Thus, as the devil Andros and the human Jace fell into the dimensional portal they were sent to parts unknown.
()
Language Highlight
Russian:
Вечер боев (Cyrillic), Фигхт Нигхт (Romanized): Fight Night
старший брат (Cyrillic), елдер бротхер (Romanized): older/elder brother
братишка (Cyrillic), литтле бротхер (Romanized): little brother
Брат (Cyrillic), Бротхер (Romanized): Brother