destructionofblack
Where the devil was the devil? Standing just a few paces in front of him, hopefully unaware of this cowardly demon’s existence. The last he remembered of Kcalb, he was weak. Gasping at his final breaths and bleeding like an open faucet, on the teetering edge of death. Just a few more whacks and his soul would have ascended (descended?) and his power would have been his lords. If only that god hadn't swooped in at the last second. He briefly wondered if he could do the same. Sure, he wasn't strong as Rieta or as clever as Lord Ivlis but.. maybe he could do something to him here? Where everyone was on the same level, weaker than they should’ve been. And if he wasn't entirely healed yet... maybe, just maybe... a good hit from Emalf’s magic flames could seal his fate.
“HYAAH!”With a surprising amount of confidence, he straightened up, pumped up his chest and aimed a blast of fire at the Devil’s back with his fist. Or at least that’s what SHOULD of happened. Instead, the most of what he managed to do was a hard tap to his enemy’s back.
“W-What the eff...?” Was his footing off? He adjusted his stance, hoping that moving a few centimeters to the left or to the right would ignite.. something. Instead, he was standing there, posed like an idiot. For some reason, it went completely over his head that if a devil as grand as Kcalb could be made weaker here, then the same would have applied to him.
“A-Ah... um.. that was.. a friendly greetin’. Pretty common in our world. T-Trying to say that... uh... I-I ain’t your foe here... buddy! Heck, I’m feelin’ like I can call you my best pal already!”