Dxd: A demon Among Devils-Chapter 33: []:Nidhogg

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His lips twitched. He could appreciate the boy's defiance. It had been much the same way when he and Nyx fought. Defiance against the inevitable had always been a human trait. History was rife with examples of famous last stands and gritty sieges, where the defenders had held out against all odds.

For a devil, Issei possessed a remarkably human side to him. He could always respect that.

Respect, but not give in. Appreciate, but not concede.

He let Boosted Gear slip through his claws. The gauntlet fell heavily to the floor, Issei's arm with it, limp and deadened. The black metal that was his own glove wrapped around the boy's face, bronze talons setting themselves against the sides of his head. If surrender was not within the devil's vocabulary, then unconsciousness would do the trick all the same. Though much of his features were obscured by the False Gear, Issei's eyes were could still be seen between the gaps left by his fingers, and defiance still shone in them.

He wondered idly if Nyx had beheld the same thing, a single human, standing by himself on that blasted landscape, a lone flicker of defiance against the vastness of space that was her power.

He grimaced. Now he felt like the villain.

The sudden surge of power caused him to look down, the surge of power that was not his own. Boosted Gear greeted him, its claws clutched tight into a fist, the emerald jewel gleaming with triumphant intensity. The realization struck him then that in releasing the armored glove, he had left himself horribly exposed. Issei must have pooled power into his Gear and hid it for this very moment.

That was almost... cunning... for him.

The crimson gauntlet shone brilliantly as power was charged in preparation for the blow he knew he would not be fast enough to prevent.

He could almost feel the presence in his mind leering at the sight.

There you are, Ddraig.

He smiled into his opponent's face, which had lost all semblance of weariness, which no longer wore the façade of being defeated, which was now sporting a grin mirroring his own.

"Clever," he said.

And then Boosted Gear smashed into his stomach and his world exploded once more into white heat.

He had expended the last of his power for that one blow, saving it for an explosion that would drain Boosted Gear of all of its strength but would hopefully be enough to defeat the enemy that had overwhelmed him at every opportunity. It had been a last ditch effort, a last, desperate strike against a foe that had proved to be far superior in every aspect. He had felt the punch connect, the blow landing solidly against flesh, and the vacuum that came after as his opponent was sent flying back to land hopefully in an unconscious heap.

And for brief seconds, as all that whirled about him was smoke and dust, he hoped against hope that he had done just that.

"Did I... win?" Issei Hyoudou gasped out.

"No," the voice that answered him was all too familiar and that made the reply all the more damning.

Minato Arisato strode through the smoke, his uniform charred and blackened, the place where Boosted Gear had struck emitting hissing columns of steam. The boy noticed, frowned slightly, and waved the mists of superheated vapor away, as though they were a minor annoyance. The impassive face turned to look at him, and there was something akin to a smile tugging at his lips.

"But you were close."

Somehow, Issei knew that was a lie.

The boy jerked his head sideways in a gesturing motion, and that was when Issei noticed that the smoke had disappeared and had been entirely replaced by grasping tendrils of shadows.

"He wants to speak with you."

The devil had a moment to ponder the meaning behind those words before the shadows leapt forth, enwrapping his surroundings in a shroud of darkness. From the swirling mass, great reptilian wings grew out, massive edifices of scale and hide.

I am Thou, and Thou art I.

The voice that came sounded like a peal of thunder, ragged with inhuman malice, buffeting him with its rolling depth.

I am the Destroyer. The Pillager. The Scaled Calamity that Descends from the Frozen North.

The shadows solidified to become a body, black like obsidian and thick with bundled muscle.

From the Root of the Earth I was Remade. From the Ire of thy Mind I have Come.

Trunk-like legs speared out, slamming into the ground, producing miniature earthquakes wherever they landed. Gleaming talons clawed at the floor, carving deep furrows into the dirt as easily as one would cut a cake with a knife.

I am the Ice that was Once Fire. I am the Hatred that was Once Ambition.

The serpentine neck reared up, and along with it the head, triangular-shaped, adorned with curved spines and festooned with ivory fangs. Streaks of white marred its black snout, pale scales on a sea of dark skin. Large, red eyes glared from the hooded skull, the slit-like pupils burning with primal intelligence.

I am Nidhogg, Devourer of Worlds.

The dragon rose to its full height, massive wings spread open to their fullest extent, and let out a rumbling snarl from its opened jaws.

And I have Come Forth to Greet an Old Enemy.

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