Akatsuki

I felt a sinister grin spread across my visage as a deluge of flame-tipped arrows bore down upon me. The infernal conflagration within me clamored for release. Not now, but soon, I vowed.

Fire, how could I tremble before fire when I had made it my own? The dominion I had seized, I had usurped, surged through my veins like a narcotic elixir.

I extended my hand as though in supplication, as though beseeching the blessings of the divine. The arrows halted, suspended, motionless, as if time itself had frozen.

With a clenched fist, the flames coalesced into the form of a spear. It hurtled forth at my silent behest, answering the call of my command.

Above me, the firmament yawned, as if poised to unleash its fury upon me. A colossal mass, reminiscent of naught but a planetoid, emerged from the stygian clouds.

A mirthless chuckle escaped me. Truly, it was inconceivable; how could such a thing be artificially contrived?

The tempest bellowed in anguish, the earth quaked, and the world convulsed in agony as I summoned yet more of the usurped dominion.

I was a fiend! I was Rias Gremory, and naught could halt my advance save at my own volition.

I drew back my arm and hurled the spear toward the plummeting meteor. The spear collided with the diminutive planetoid in the heavens.

A shockwave ensued. As they clashed amidst the firmament, a shockwave propagated in all directions, annihilating all it touched. Save for me. As it sought to rend me asunder, it dissipated into oblivion.

In the heavens above, whilst my spear contested the meteor, I beheld a sight that widened my eyes and quickened my pulse.

A second meteor, vaster than its predecessor, descended. "This is some Madara Bullshit! I revel in it!"

He had elevated the spectacle; it was incumbent upon me to reciprocate. The second meteor, eclipsing its precursor, descended to supplant it.

I sensed my flames waning, dwindling. But I would not countenance their abatement! Fire, yet more fire surged into my grasp.

It materialized and interlaced, molded and shaped by my will, my desires. It assumed the form of an arrow.

"Let us discern your stratagem now, Mather! Fuga."

The arrow soared, transcending the confines of time and space, heedless of distance, reappearing just astern of the spear. Spear and arrow met, merging as one.

The flames surged forth, voracious, world-engulfing. They pierced the diminutive planetoid, their quarry? The adversary who dared defy me.

Black lightning, as rapacious as my flames, rent the heavens.

Divine flames and infernal lightning clashed in the firmament, akin to wrathful beasts vying for dominion.

"I am certain you harbor further machinations. Enthrall me, Mather!" I exulted.

As though the harbinger of his intention, space distorted before my eyes, unraveling amidst the confluence of flames and lightning.

I endeavored to fathom, to comprehend the phenomenon before me. Space, he was folding space! I discerned.

Of course, naught less could be expected from the prelate of my sibling. Allow me to pose a query. What befalls when an abundance of matter is compressed, compressed with utmost intensity?

A sardonic chuckle escaped me. "A Black Hole." Above me, the flames and lightning relinquished form, ensnared by all-encompassing oblivion.

Wings of flame erupted from my back, forestalling my ensnarement by the cosmic abomination before me.

The canopy above assumed the guise of human hands. Those hands cradled the diminutive ebony sphere, impervious to its gravitational pull.

Black, darker than black motes emanated from the hands to the maw-devouring sphere, forming a halo about it.

I recognized them. How could I not, when they had been the heralds of my liberation? "You are truly unhinged, Mather. Beneath the veneer of civility lies a kinship with madness akin to my own."

I knew that with my dominion over destruction, or even my newly-acquired marble phantasm, I could effortlessly counter the abomination above me. Yet, I elected to confine myself solely to my flames.

I relinquished my hold upon my flames. They surged forth, oozing from my flesh. The flames I had usurped from Kagutsuchi, the flames I had absorbed from Issei, coalesced before my eyes.

I knew they yearned merely for a catalyst, a directive to ignite the conflagration. Memories of a Fiend, of a Daemon assailed my consciousness. Memories of an all-consuming fire.

I allowed those memories to guide me, permitting hatred to burgeon and fuel my flames. I allowed pride and anger to nourish them. I nourished them until they teetered on the brink of sentience.

I extended my right arm fully, directing one of my fingers skyward. The hands urged the stygian abyss downward.

I stood resolute as it hurtled toward me. My flames assumed the form of a diminutive orb, no larger than a tennis ball before my fingertip. Regardless of the impending onslaught, I knew my flames would not rest until they had engulfed and consumed all. "Maragidyne," I murmured, and my flames erupted.

They unfurled, as if emerging from a chrysalis. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was spared by their rapacious and cruel nature.

Above, below, space, matter, time; they consumed all. It mattered not that it should be impossible. The sole imperative they obeyed was the edict of annihilation.

Before my eyes, atoms and molecules were devoured and sundered to serve as fuel for my flames.

I knew that had I not been their progenitor, I knew that had I not been the architect of this cataclysm, I too would have been consumed, my essence notwithstanding.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" I heard him laugh. I could not discern whether it stemmed from witnessing something he deemed intriguing or if it were the consequence of my flames driving him to the brink of madness.

I turned my gaze heavenward, toward where I knew Mather to be. He had implored me not to underestimate him, thus I complied.

He was the prelate of my sibling, chosen specifically to confront a super devil. If he could not withstand my flames, then he had no place by my sibling's side.

"THIS IS POTENTIAL! I UNDERSTAND, RIAS-SAMA! AN INEXORABLE ASSAULT! THESE FLAMES ARE INDESTRUCTIBLE BECAUSE THEY CANNOT BE DESTROYED!

"Come forth, Mather! I know you harbor further designs! Reveal them unto me!" I exclaim to the man.

Demonic energy surges forth, more pervasive than any I have hitherto encountered. "LONG AGO, TEXTS POSIT THAT CHAOS GAVE RISE TO CELESTIAL CONCEPTS! YOU HAVE UNLEASHED POTENTIAL

UPON ME! IT IS FITTING THAT I RETALIATE WITH ENTROPY! ABSOLUTE ZERO!"

For a moment, naught transpires; the subsequent moment, all halts. The world, my flames, my breath, my very essence, they all stall.

"I CANNOT ANNIHILATE YOUR FLAMES! YET, I CAN HALT THEM!" the jubilant voice of the prelate declares.

The prelate materializes before me, brandishing a sword hewn of crystal toward my heart. It would appear that I am bested, ensnared, nearly powerless. Unfortunately for Mathers, not wholly so. I am a sore loser; I abhor defeat.

My essence surges forth from my soul. It matters not that I should be rendered inert. It matters not what is feasible or not. My essence has already confronted Darkness in its purest manifestation. My essence has encountered the Anti-life equation, and, more significantly, has adapted.

My right arm contorts unnaturally. It feels as though I am burdened with immense weights, yet it does naught to impede my movement.

I perceive the bemused expression that flits across Mathers's countenance. "How?"

All my flames surge past absolute zero, past time, to enshroud my arm. "I am merely different," I inform him before launching my arm toward his visage.

To his credit, he endeavors to evade, uttering an incantation to teleport himself away. Alas for him, my essence selects this moment to emancipate me entirely. My left arm ensnares his sword ere he can teleport, and thus I am drawn with him.

My fist hurtles toward his face. Shields wrought of demonic energy and arcane enigmas materialize to shield him.

My flames consume them, reducing them to naught. My fist connects with his visage, and he plummets as though a celestial being divested of its grace.

"You believe such a ploy sufficient to vanquish me?!" he cries out. His right hand moves with celerity, seizing hold of his countenance, the locus from whence my flames first emerged, and wrenches it free.

"That's preposterous," I remark, astonished and impressed. My flames consume all they touch. It seems logical that excision of the afflicted flesh would render one immune. But even then, "it will prove insufficient, but I am certain you are aware. So what machinations do you harbor, Mathers?" I muse aloud.

I witness my flames surge toward his descending form. Yet, despite his bloodied countenance, I could have sworn I detected a smirk.

He extends his hands as though welcoming an old acquaintance's embrace. "Perseus," I hear him murmur ere a sinister crimson, akin yet distinct from my dominion over destruction, blossoms forth, consuming and quenching my flames.

"How?" I inquire. "What you have just wrought is more than remarkable; it is awe-inspiring," I concede to him.

The abyss wrought from his hands rushes toward me. In my soul, my dominion over destruction clamors for release, yearning to be unleashed against what it perceives as a usurper.

I quell it. It would run counter to my objectives. It would detract from the enjoyment were I to prevail through the utilization of my dominion over destruction alone. Besides, my essence has and continues to metamorphose me, rendering me superior, stronger, swifter.

My wings of flame dissipate at my command, plunging me earthward toward the orb of destruction wrought by Mathers.

A simple katana, forged of flame, manifests in my right hand. Face-to-face with the orb of destruction, I swing the fiery blade, its keen edge fashioned and sustained by my will, toward it.

The orb of destruction resembles a malignancy, striving to engulf, to assimilate all. Yet, alas for it, I wield genuine destruction. Unbeknownst to it, I discern the essence of destruction, its strengths and its frailties.

The essence of destruction operates thusly: it reduces all it touches to naught. That is its principle. The exception arises when it encounters something of incomparably greater potency; then, and only then, can it be thwarted and resisted.

'It merely necessitates,' I ponder as the flames of my Katana transmute from orange to white, 'that I transcend my limitations!'

My left hand joins the right, augmenting the force applied. "IS THIS THE EXTENT OF YOUR ARTIFICE, MATHERS?" I roar, my hands trembling.

My blade pierces the orb. "Do you truly believe this sufficient?!" I shout before cleaving it in twain.

The orb of destruction loses cohesion, erupting just before my countenance, propelling me backward. It feels as though I have been slapped, yet, aside from that sensation, naught else. I perceive no indication of injury. I have grown immeasurably stronger.

I yet discern Mathers's presence, smell the brimstone and sulfurous aroma indicative of demonic energy's utilization.

My gaze pierces the distance to the form of my sibling's prelate. "RIAS-SAMA, LET US CONCLUDE THIS IN SPECTACULAR FASHION!" he proclaims.

My eyes widen as I sense a burgeoning presence, one antithetical to my being, one innately hostile to me by virtue of my nature as an unholy entity.

"Holy Energy, you invoke Holy energy," I ascertain, astonished. Mathers is no Nephilim like Akeno, nor does he possess an inherently augmented supply of holy energy, as do Kiba or the wielders of Holy swords.

Before my eyes, two orbs orbit one another, one the deepest ebony and the other the most resplendent gold.

Demonic and holy energies are diametrically opposed. Certain scholars posit them as the corporeal manifestations of Helel and his progenitor. These energies inherently clash with one another, desiring naught but mutual annihilation. Attempts at equilibrium by magi have proven futile.

I know it to be feasible. Canon illustrates it with Yuto fashioning a Holy-Demonic sword through his Balance Breaker, despite the absence of God and the Satans, the systems they instituted and maintained via their existence crumble. We may boast super devils, beings capable of rivaling the original Satans, but Heaven lacks an entity capable of contesting The Presence. Perhaps the Demiurgic Archangels possess such potential, yet in canon, none have successfully embodied the essence of their progenitor.

It signifies that the inconceivable becomes conceivable, such as the fusion of Holy and Unholy.

"You speak true, Mathers," I aver to my sibling's prelate. "It is time to draw this skirmish to a close, albeit not in the manner you anticipate!"

Holy and unholy are intrinsic to creation. They embody the principles of creation and destruction. What shall befall one who wields these two forces in unison, even if for a fleeting moment? What shall befall one who momentarily violates the constraints imposed by Helel and his progenitor, the Tetragrammaton?

I discern the answer as black and gold converge, coalescing into a twisted, jagged halo above Mathers's crown. For an ephemeral moment, he shall stand as

an equal to God!

My essence, my soul, implores me to flee, to retreat. My essence can only operate when afforded time to adapt. I understand I shall not possess the opportunity to adapt to whatever he shall unleash upon me.

This is a foregone conclusion. There exists no conceivable manner by which I could triumph against God solely through the employment of my flames. Yet, I refuse to capitulate.

"Hesitation shall ensure your demise," Sophia once counselled. It matters not that my soul, my corpus clamor for flight.

My flames, in accordance with my decree, surge forth like a geyser. For a fleeting moment, they assume the semblance of immense wings, wings of sufficient magnitude to cradle the world.

If my current incarnation proves insufficiently potent, then it is incumbent upon me to metamorphose, to evolve into something stronger.

I envision a man so innately potent that he is venerated as a destroyer, a deity, despite his mortality. I envision a man who knows naught of defeat, who cannot even be equated with that which was expressly fashioned to vanquish him. Whom else shall I endeavor to emulate but he who requires no faith to contend with deities?

I watch with bated breath as Mathers commences his movement, a divine edict, an inevitable assault gleaming within his grasp. One I recognize I cannot evade, regardless of the distance. One I recognize shall assuredly forestall my advance. Fortunately, with my flames, I can mold space and time to my liking.

In an alternate reality where flames reign supreme, a youth, by virtue of his communion with primordial flames, flames in their most elemental guise, would achieve such swiftness that he could attain a state of luminal velocity. His corporeal form would disintegrate into subatomic particles in the process, whereupon these particles would surpass the speed of light, affording them the opportunity to traverse a few seconds back in time.

I sense the chill of death. In the shadows, I perceive her smile, her anticipation. "I regret to inform you, my dear, but today is not your day," I assure her. She shall not dictate my fate; I shall.

If I cannot evade the assault, then I need only hasten with my flames to reappear ere it can be unleashed.

I am not akin to the youth tethered to an alternate realm of flames. Instead, I possess divine flames, conceptual flames that embody the aspirations, the aspirations, the progress, and the endeavors of countless millions across the annals of time.

I infuse my demonic energy into my flames. My demonic energy adheres to but a solitary directive, guided by a singular command to my flames. "Adolla Burst," I intone ere my wings unfurl.

I lose coherence, sensation. I perceive myself dissipating, yet I remain cognizant. I sense myself traversing both forward and backward in time.

I materialize before Mathers. A spell half-formed assumes shape ere my eyes as he endeavors to bar my advance, to impede me for less than a nanosecond. We both comprehend that this shall suffice for him to triumph.

Alas, I am swift, too swift for him to react. I endeavor to craft a broadsword of flame to impale the prelate. Instead, I find myself piercing him with a dagger-like implement, a weapon scarcely worthy of the name.

His eyes widen in astonishment. "I have prevailed this time, Mathers," I proclaim.

A fleeting smile graces his visage. "Indeed, Rias-sama," he concedes before I permit myself to descend to the ground.