Scene: Issei's Room]
Issei lay sprawled on his bed, bruised and battered from the Rating Game. His breathing was slow, but steady.
Grayfia: arms crossed, voice calm but urgent — "If he doesn't wake up soon… there won't be enough time to save Rias."
Andrew's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward without hesitation.
Andrew: "Then let me do it. I know I can win this."
[Cut to: Underworld – Ceremony Hall]
Akeno sat quietly, her hands folded. Koneko and Kiba stood near her, all three of them looking down in defeat.
Akeno: "…We failed Rias."
Kiba and Koneko only nodded.
Before they could speak further, a ring of flame erupted in the center of the hall.
Riser: "Ladies and gentlemen of the Underworld! Thank you for gathering here today to witness the union between myself and Rias Gremory! And if anyone believes they're strong enough to take her from me… step forward now."
The heavy double doors swung open.
Andrew strode in, dressed in his orange gi. A confident smirk tugged at his lips.
Riser: eyes narrowing — "So… you think you can beat me when your brother couldn't? And with what power, human?"
Andrew: "Trust me… you're going to regret hurting my friends during that Rating Game. Especially Issei."
Riser: chuckling darkly — "Then let's make this interesting. If I win, you'll be my prisoner… a toy for my amusement. If you win, I'll give you anything you want."
Andrew paused for a moment, his gaze hardening.
Andrew: "…If I win, you end this engagement. Permanently. And you leave Rias alone. She's not some trophy wife."
Riser: "Very well. Step into the arena… and I'll humble you quickly."
[The Underworld battlefield shimmered into existence—a vast circular arena with towering walls of obsidian stone. Spectators filled the stands, their eyes fixed on the two fighters below.
Riser floated above the ground, his body already wreathed in orange flames. His smirk was arrogant, assured.
Riser: "So you're the human who thinks he can stand against Phenex pride? This will be brief."
Andrew stood on the arena floor, perfectly still. His orange gi rippled slightly from the heat radiating off Riser's flames. He rolled his shoulders, then cracked his neck side to side.
Andrew: "Let's find out."
Round One: The Probe
Riser dove forward in a straight line, flames trailing behind him like a comet. His speed was impressive—at least for a devil of his caliber.
Too telegraphed, Andrew thought.
He sidestepped with a simple pivot, letting Riser's flame-covered fist pass inches from his face. The heat was intense enough to singe his gi, but he didn't flinch.
Riser twisted mid-air, launching a spinning kick wreathed in roaring fire. Andrew ducked beneath it, feeling the scorching air above his head. Before Riser could reset, Andrew stepped forward and drove an open palm strike toward his chest.
Riser caught it—but the impact forced him back several feet, scraping across the arena floor.
Riser: breathing hard "…Not bad. But you won't last."
Flames erupted from Riser's body, expanding in a violent sphere of orange fire. The heat washed across the arena like a furnace.
Andrew stood firm, crossing his arms defensively. The flames engulfed him, but beneath the fiery veil, his expression remained calm. When the inferno faded, his gi was singed but intact.
Riser: "Impossible. That should have—"
Andrew: "Your flames are hot, yeah. But raw power without technique is just flashy."
Round Two: Testing the Limits
Riser's eyes narrowed with genuine anger. He shot forward again, but this time with faster combinations—jabs, hooks, roundhouse kicks all flowing seamlessly.
Andrew weaved through the assault, his movements economical and precise. Each dodge was minimal, each block timed perfectly. He wasn't trying to win—he was studying Riser's patterns, feeling out the rhythm of the fight.
He's fast for a noble devil, but he relies too much on his regeneration. He doesn't expect to get hit, so his defense is lazy.
A flaming uppercut came toward Andrew's jaw. This time, instead of dodging, he raised his forearm and blocked it. The impact sent a shockwave across the arena.
Riser's eyes widened. He tried to pull back, but Andrew pressed forward.
Andrew: "My turn."
Andrew threw a precise three-piece combination—a jab to the torso, a cross toward the chin, then a stepping left hook. Each blow was faster than the last. Riser tried to block, but the third punch slipped past his guard and caught him across the jaw.
The impact sent him sprawling backward, his feet leaving the ground.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
For the first time, Riser looked shaken.
Round Three: The Power Spike
Riser's pride was wounded. Flames erupted around him—not orange anymore, but a searing blue that crackled with destructive power. The temperature in the arena spiked dangerously.
Riser: "Enough games!"
He shot forward like a missile, his movements explosively faster now. His punches came in a furious barrage—left, right, left, right, roundhouse, spinning back fist. The flames around his fists left trails of burning air.
Andrew retreated, blocking and weaving. Each impact sent tremors through his arms. Riser was serious now, putting real power behind each strike.
He's gotten faster. Using the blue flames as a catalyst.
But Andrew had trained against opponents infinitely stronger than this. He'd sparred with warriors who could shake continents with their ki. This was manageable.
Andrew caught a punch and immediately pivoted, throwing Riser over his shoulder and slamming him into the arena floor. The impact left a crater.
Riser was back on his feet instantly, regenerating from the blow.
Riser: "BURN!"
A massive fireball—easily the size of a small building—erupted from his palms. The blue flames roared toward Andrew with the fury of a supernova.
In the stands, Issei's hands clenched.
Issei: (thinking) "Andrew… don't lose."
The Critical Moment
Andrew felt it then—that familiar tingle at the base of his skull. The pressure building behind his eyes. His hair felt heavy, like it wanted to stand on end.
Power. Limitless, intoxicating power. All he had to do was let go.
Super Saiyan.
Just a single transformation would end this instantly. Riser would be utterly outclassed.
Andrew's fists clenched. His muscles trembled with barely contained energy.
But he stopped.
Andrew: (to himself) "No. Not for this."
He took a breath and raised his hands defensively, bracing as the inferno consumed him. The flames engulfed the arena in blinding light, turning day into night, then back again.
When the smoke cleared, Andrew stood with his gi in tatters, his skin singed and reddened. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. His breathing was heavy, labored.
But his eyes were clear. Controlled.
He'd endured it without transforming.
The Final Exchange
Riser: (exhausted, flames dimming) "How… how are you still standing?"
Andrew: (wiping blood from his forehead) "You asked me earlier if I was just human. I'm not. But I don't need to show you everything to beat you."
Riser launched one final desperate attack—a combination of flames and raw power. He was throwing everything he had left.
Andrew moved with deliberate precision. He sidestepped Riser's hook, ducked under a flame-coated uppercut, then stepped inside Riser's guard.
With surgical accuracy, he drove a sharp knee strike upward toward Riser's midsection. Not to kill. Just to end it.
Riser's body folded around the impact. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Andrew caught him before he fell and, with controlled force, drove him down into the arena floor one final time. The impact cratered the stone beneath them.
Riser's body went limp. His flames extinguished.
Grayfia: (stepping forward, voice calm) "Winner: Andrew Hayado."
[Cutaway: Dark Rift Beyond Time]
Towa watched the replay of the battle, her smile widening.
Towa: "Interesting. He could have transformed but… chose not to."
Mira: "Overconfidence?"
Towa: (shaking her head) "No. Discipline. That's far more dangerous. He has the power to transform, but the control to know when not to." Her eyes gleamed with predatory interest. "When we finally meet him… he'll be magnificent."
[Arena - Aftermath]
Ravel rushed onto the field, kneeling beside her brother's unconscious form. She glanced up at Andrew, her expression conflicted—frustration at her brother's loss, but also respect for the restraint Andrew had shown.
Ravel: "You… you held back. Why?"
Andrew was already walking toward the exit, his damaged gi hanging loosely on his frame. He didn't turn around.
Andrew: "Because he's your brother. And because destroying someone completely when you don't have to… that's not who I am."
His words hung in the air as he left the arena.
In the stands, Rias watched him go, her hand pressed to her chest. Her eyes were filled with something more than gratitude now—it was admiration. And something else she couldn't quite name.
Issei's fists unclenched. A small smile crossed his face.
Issei: (thinking) "He really is getting stronger… but he's still Andrew. Still the same guy who always helped people."