"Oh?" Iori quirked a brow as he felt the air subtly shift, the twinge of violence permeating the clearing and a rather pungent scent of killing intent stabbed into his nose. The world itself slowed to a crawl, the birds ceasing their chirping leaves their rustling and even the fish he could sense were rapidly diving to the bottom of the lake as though that pitiful distance would save them from the aftershock of this oncoming battle.
"You don't seem surprised." Grayfia said, her tone monotone and uncaring as though she wasn't going to try and assassinate a pillar of their 'allies' but instead was asked if the weather would be clear that day. This was more like the woman he knew. Cold, direct and to the point. None of those flowery words or threats. Just pure, unadulterated action. It was this chilliness that allowed her survive all those centuries ago during their first encounter.
"Those with long life spans rarely change. At least not in a drastic manner. You're a knife. Something to be used when an 'upstart' doesn't kneel. Nothing has truly changed I see." If he was a lesser man, then maybe she would have a chance to flee after her inevitable failure. It didn't matter to him if she had a child now, nor how her death would form a blood feud between the 2 of them. After all, no one could ever forgot their mother's killer. Having an annoying heir coming after him constantly sounded exhausting beyond belief. "You have a chance to take a step back. To cease this foolishness and run along with your spawn. Do not squander my rare ki-"
His offer was rather rudely cut off by a large shard of ice the size of a carriage barreling full force into his back. A chill blanketed over the clearing, flash freezing the nearby flora into macabre stillness. Mist and broken shards blew out in a billowing wave that crawled along lake's surface like a rampaging beast prowling for it's next kill.
From all sides, all he could see was that thick fog the blotted out the sky as though he was in the middle of some sort of winter wonderland.
"That was quite rude." Iori tiredly sighed, eyes drawn to his thoroughly ruined fishing line. But maybe it was more accurate to call it the lake's at that moment in time, the entire object being covered in blue sheen of ice that connected the 2. With an audible crack that echoed through the silent clearing, his hands were free from their 'prison' looking completely fine. Not even showing signs of growing red or, thankfully, blue. "How can you attack someone while their speaking?"
"I learned it from your favorite disciple."
She said, demonic energy pooling off her figure in an almost physical wave that lightly rumbled his clothing. He didn't even need to turn to know the Devil was already preparing yet another spell, showcasing her skill to not only talk but also cast simultaneously.
"Oh, she did?" Rubbing his chin in thought, Iori didn't look like a person being attacked by an Ultimate-Class Devil in the slightest. "Then I guess she took my lesson in well."
It was a good tactic after all, who expected to get sucker punched while they spoke?
"Since you've stuck first, let me get a good look at the so called 'Strongest Queen."
Moving like water, he spun to his feet. Unraveling that inky river from the slumbering partial-spirit tree besides him with ease. Blue eyes lazily roamed over the multitude of magical circles spinning ominously in the air, each pulsating with enough energy to draw envy from any human magician.
'More energy spells,' The ancient gaze flickered through the arsenal this little Devil had so painstakingly formed. Most of these symbols were complex things, something that would've required great effort on any other caster even at as Ultimate-Class. Whether or not these circles were pre-made or not, just looking at them was enough to know that each of them had blood, sweat and tears embedded deep into their structure. 'Some mental, physical restriction and...a spatial lock?'
'Did she expect me to flee?'
Iori didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered. All this preparation just to deal with little, old him?
Drawing his attention away from the dizzying array of spells poised to turn him to slag, he actually looked at the 'Strongest Queen'. That stupid french maid uniform she wore was now completely gone and in it's place was a pitch black dress that hugged at her curves. With the way the world itself seem to warp around the mere presence of the clothe, it was safe to say it was entirely of her own immense demonic energy. Long silver hair waved in way iconic to being underwater. 3 pairs of bat-like wings shot out from behind her, each easily larger than her entire body by themselves.
In her right hand, a large metallic fan extended out to it's full glory. A glimmering set of arcane symbols etched directly into the metal itself, each pulsating with miasma so thick it was noticeable even to the naked eye.
Those cold crimson eyes locked down on him as though he was peasant before a queen, one that dared to raise their head above their station and she herself had to come down to swiftly cut it off. Honestly, he had expected her to form a throne to sit on to truly complete the image but sadly it didn't seem like that way going to happen anytime soon.
As this moment passed, a single circle flashed and suddenly the sky itself had bloody hue. The clouds looking ready to spew out tears of blood and even the greenery started to look a bit red if one were to squint their eyes hard enough. Other than the rather heart quickening view it gave, they both knew what the spell meant.
Neither of them would be fleeing from this bout. Normally, it was a good idea for mages to have a backdoor in their own spatial lock in case whatever they trapped was too much for them to fight. But that was just one more weakness that their foes could bend to escape themselves. The only way to truly lock space down was to throw away that key. Sure doing so was dangerous to say the least, but what did it matter if the caster was already strong enough?
'Or at least feels she's strong enough. Devils and their arrogance.' Eyes roaming over the stationary wings that ignored the laws of physics, a dark promise bubbled up deep inside. A mere flash of his past, bloodier side. The man who wouldn't have hesitated to cut down anyone who decided to stand before him, the man who had no issues forcing his own moral code on other through force if necessary.
He would rip those wings off her body by the end of this. It didn't matter how different Angels, Fallen Angels or Devils were. Their wings were all precious too them, They all enjoyed lording over their innate ability to fly over the rest of the world. An arrogance granted to them by their creator. It acted as a status symbol for them, the more they had the more important they were to society. But what happens when someone so lofty lost that very same symbol?
Despair so sour that it'll make one's teeth ache would engulf them.
'Would they still call you the Strongest Queen if you no longer possessed any wings?'
As though Grayfia could sense the intent zeroing in on her most precious, those circled spewed out their cargo. Lightning struck down with the force of an angry god, swords made of water slashed down, mythical creatures made of fire howled in exhalation as they fell upon upon him, space visibly warped as meteors from the stars themselves hurtled down towards him. It was as though the apocalypse was here and now, an attack that would've shaken the resolve of those demonic rebels a lifetime ago.
These attacks weren't so one dimensional to only be simple attacks, no each of them were imbued with a 'will', an order, a command, a decree. A seal of authority those of significant power can control.
'Accuracy.'
Each of these attacks will strike, they will not be swayed by distance nor by any attempt of foot work to just barely dodge them. Even if he still had that spatial artifact, Boidokī, and if that lock on reality wasn't in place, there would be no escape from this apocalyptic spell. It was the kind of bombardment that could end powerhouses in their place, no matter how strong their momentum.
As the gates of destruction were opened, Iori felt a slight twinge to his lips. Not for the attack that zeroed in on him, nor for the thrill of the fight. But instead, that feeling of pride welled up deep inside his chest.
The world exploded into a blanket of white, blasting away the red hue in it's entirety. A conflagration of elements met and 'fused'. Twisting and turning like frenzied beasts, each with their jaws open wide to snap shut around him. A spell capable of slaying an Ultimate-Class or even a Satan-Class alone, it suddenly made a lot more sense as to why Sirzechs allowed Grayfia to wonder into possible enemy territory without any backup.
She didn't need it.
At least, that's what they thought.
Iori didn't do anything equally as spectacular, he didn't cause a wall of roots to explode out of the ground to defend him nor did he use some super powerful move that would shake the foundations of the world itself. Hell, not even the urge to dodge was present. Raising a single fist before the incoming deluge of magical destruction, his fist punched out in an almost lazy manner. Such a simple move would've normally only been fruitless in the face of this faction ending attack, but the shock-waves that rippled out told another store. The air tore apart, a loud boom filling the clearing as the army of snapping jaws and poised claws was blown completely apart. The constructs could only roar or screech out in useless defiance as cracks began to appear across their surface, growing larger in volume as time edged on. Until finally, with the sound of shattering glass the spell 'collapsed' into a harmless mist of energy.
'Another one bites the dusts…'
If there was one thing he loved doing since waking up in the world, it was thoroughly flexing on any being that thought he was some easy target. Whether it was destroying their ultimate techniques with seemingly simple attacks or just outright tanking hits that would kill anyone else if they struck. Call him a sadist, but their ashen face was always something that was seared permanently in his memories. But looking up at the Devil, he had to give it to her. She didn't look perturbed in the slightest.
That wouldn't do. Not at all.
Instead, as though this was expected, Grayfia began to conjure up more magical circles brimming with power. Power far exceeding even those intricate arrays before. His eyes scanned over the forming circle with no real desire to stop her casting, he wanted to see what gave her the confidence here today. He didn't have to wait long, as just a few moments later the circles flashed in unison before lines of energy burst forth. Not towards him, but focused in on the flying Devil.
Swirling around her, these threads condensed further into something relatively solid. Forming heavily armored, ebony plates that soon encased her form entirely. And to top it all off, some of the strings even zeroed in on that fan coating it too in a layer of plates. Until eventually, an armored knight of sorts flew before him. The armor looked medieval in a way that was foreign to Japan, lacking the iconic samurai look. Instead, a series of heraldry covered her chest and even a single gray feather sticking out from the top of that weighty looking helmet.
She looked like some sort of knight...of course minus the giant bladed fan.
The world blurred as the armored Devil charged in fast, showcasing her centuries of experience in that single moment. Slapping away the first blow, the two began their dance. Armored kicks were deflected, heavy slugs were turned away and slashes of that fan slid off his form like water. It didn't matter how fancy her footwork was, nor if she spewed out small spells interspersed between strikes.
The moment she forgo her initially advantage, her lost was already assured.
'Now why would a magician toss away their greatest advantage to roll brawl around like mortals?' Grayfia didn't come across as stupid, maybe a bit arrogant but that was more a Devil thing than anything else. This phenomenon had only ever happened in the beginning of his journey, opponents underestimating him was a rather quaint feeling. But that wasn't what this felt like. She should've been well aware of how powerful he was if only by comparing his strength to Yasaka all those years ago. It didn't make sense.
As he thought over the current state of affairs, a bladed fan struck out towards his neck with the speed that bordered on the levels of being unfair. The blow held a restrained killing intent, it seems she was playing for keeps. This wasn't some friendly sparring session for her, it wasn't a way to test the strength of one of the new powers in this world. She wanted him dead, to neutralize the threat he represented. But despite licks of her Ki that practically screamed that at him, there was something strange. Hidden in deep behind that flood of emotion, there laid an almost patient anticipation. Like a snake rearing up to snap out with a sudde-
It happened quickly, a small circle blipped into existence before expelling a small orb of tightly condensed fire that took up the entirety of his world. But that wasn't the problem, a frown formed on his face as he allowed the fireball to wash against him with the effectiveness of a splashing water on stone. Quicker than anything he'd shown since the beginning of this fight, he plucked a single object out of the air.
Taking a moment to thoroughly study the object, his face only further turned sour everything clicked into place. There, between two fingers, was a single needle barely thick enough to even be seen from any angle. Lacking both the sheen and weight of metal, it would've made it completely impossible to see it coming before it struck. Hell, he hadn't even seen it, especially not with the fireball in his face.
"So this was your plan…" Iori could 'taste' it, and it was foul beyond imagine. Thick, molasses-like Ki seem to ooze off the object. An acrid sent nearly caused his nose to curl. It was familiar, not the object itself but the technique used to create such a weapon.
Blurring forward with the ferocity of a rampaging tiger, he struck out before the armored Devil could even have the inkling to flee or retaliate. A single palm caused the metal plates to shatter completely, leaving enough force to shatter ribs and perforate organs. Grayfia flew out like a useless rag doll, coughing up blood as she landed a few feet away.
The 'Strongest Queen', a being that was said to have been the equal of the combined might of the Satans, a slayer of myth and legend, was brought low with but a single strike.