All Hail (Diavolo x Reader)

150 Days Before Rebellion

Diavolo has never been so humiliated.

He knew that he was in for something special the moment he learned that he was to face the season's defending Victor—a powerful demon who has held the championship title for the past two hundred years—but he never expected his opponent to be so cruel.

Diavolo staggers back, vision blurred, but he can hardly even raise his hands to cover his face before another rush of pain swells through his body, a sickening crack echoing through the cage as his opponent's foot collides with his side.

A garbled scream escapes from his mouth, but then the demon has kicked his other side as well, and Diavolo can only choke on his own breath as he drops to his knees, too blinded by pain to fight anymore. He raises a hand, four fingers extended, to gesture surrender: to end this cage fight and withdraw from the ring. But before he can even lift his arm, his opponent has swung their leg over his shoulder, and then Diavolo's entire upper body is pressed to the ground where the demon forces him to remain, stomping on his back repeatedly.

Diavolo curses inwardly.

He's only seen the Victor fight a handful of times, but never has he observed the demon fight in such an unhinged style. If anything, the Victor is a relatively kind demon, given that he usually allows his opponents to surrender when they've had too much.

Kind, huh?

A trickle of blood, warm and wet, runs down Diavolo's body, but he can't tell from where. With his arm crushed and his body pressed to the ground, he can no longer surrender. His only hope is that someone will notice how he's no longer fighting back, no longer even bothering to defend himself as his opponent raises a leg and stomps on his face, effectively knocking Diavolo loose from his already weak grip on consciousness.

He can only curse as the crowd continues to cheer, his hazy vision slowly fading to black. He passes out to the sound of someone shouting—though by now he can barely tell what their words are—and then he's truly gone, vaguely wondering if he'll ever wake up.

***

You're feeling a lot of things right now.

On one hand, you want to vomit on the ground, expelling from your body everything you've eaten alongside the horridly graphic memory of the Victor fighting so savagely, something you've never seen in all your years watching these cage fights.

On the other hand, there's an overwhelming rage that possesses you, and you can't help but want to chase after the Victor who's now exiting the ring, looking all too smug for someone who nearly beat a lesser demon to death out of pettiness from you rejecting him.

But then—and this is perhaps the most compelling feeling—you have the urge to run to the center of the ring where the demon who lost the fight still remains passed out on the ground, lying face down in a puddle of blood that only grows larger with each passing second.

And while you absolutely want to get back at the Victor for taking such vile actions, it is this third desire that you give in to, and you force your gaze away from the proud demon's retreating figure in favor of raising your dress to run down and enter the ring.

"Sir?" You question softly, kneeling in the demon's blood. Your hand hovers in the air, just above the dark red tufts of hair that peek out from his mask. You hesitate, not knowing what to do, not knowing whether you'll hurt him if you touch him.

"Sir, please wake up."

No response.

You purse your lips, a frown forming on your face as you briefly raise your eyes to study the elevated benches surrounding the ring. Only a few demons linger, now that the fight is over, and all their bodies are turned away from you and the unconscious demon at your feet. Still, you can only be partially certain that their stares aren't directed your way, with everyone's masks hiding their true expressions. You mutter a curse under your breath, swiftly understanding that it's not safe to use your magic here with so many potential witnesses.