"No names then, Joker? This is where you draw your last breath!" Justin roared, instantly appearing before Desmond and flipping him upside down.
Before Desmond could hit the ground, he vanished—teleporting to the location where he'd earlier thrown his last spirit-linked dagger. Still, he wasn't fast enough to avoid the flames completely; they had licked the side of his head during the escape.
"Ouch—ouch! The fuck, man?! Do you know how expensive this hair was?!" Desmond barked, frantically patting out the fire.
Wait… there was a delay. His eyes narrowed. I activated the ability, but didn't teleport instantly? And he broke it—that dagger was made of the strongest metal in the world…
His confusion deepened. He knew Justin was strong, but this level of power? It was on a different scale.
The air around him shimmered with heat, making it hard to breathe, his vision fogging up as waves of hot fumes poured into his lungs. His chances of winning were already slim—and growing slimmer.
Vooosh!
A roar of flame cut through the space between them. Desmond couldn't even see clearly, the heat distorting the air. In panic, he hurled his remaining dagger in random directions, buying time he didn't have.
I'll die if I use that here…! What kind of fucking mission is this?! he cursed inwardly, furious at whoever assigned him.
"Is your spirit linked to that blade?" Justin's voice rang out, calm and cold through the haze.
Desmond didn't respond, but his hesitation—and the flicker of recognition in his eyes—was enough.
"I thought so," Justin said. "You haven't replaced the first one I destroyed. That means part of your spirit was tied to it and is currently lost. You've only got two splits in you, don't you?"
Desmond remained silent, tense.
"You teleport in the direction you throw them," Justin continued, "but there's a delay—likely three seconds. Or maybe it's instant, but my flames disrupt your connection somehow."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're an incomplete medium turned assassin. You have promise… so why waste it on this path, Joker?"
His flames calmed, just a little, giving Desmond a window.
"Who the fuck did you just call incomplete, you washed-up old fucker?!" Desmond snarled, pointing his dagger at Justin.
Justin's voice softened, almost mournful. "It's a shame. Such talent, wasted. Soon to be snuffed out."
He drew in a deep breath—and his flames reignited, hotter than ever before.
Damn it... sorry boss, Desmond thought grimly. But I've got to use that here.
With a shout, he flung his dagger straight at Justin and vanished—teleporting mid-throw.
"Like hell talent will be lost!!" he screamed, his body morphing mid-air. His clothes ripped apart as he grew—scales spreading over his arms and torso, his face elongating into a draconic snout, wings tearing from his back. His flesh hardened like iron as he roared through the transformation.
"Try stopping me now, you crazy old man!!" he shouted, launching a punch with full force—his teleportation momentum adding to the blow.
Justin's eyes widened—but he didn't dodge. He braced for impact with a grin.
BOOM!!
The punch landed like thunder, kicking up a storm of dust and debris. A large section of the mansion shattered behind them from the sheer force.
BOOM!!
But Desmond was the one sent flying, crashing into a wall and bursting through it into the street beyond.
"What?! Even with this I can't overpower him?!" Desmond gasped. His new form gave him monstrous strength and accelerated spiritual regeneration—but Justin still had the upper hand.
His instincts saved him from the next barrage. Dodging swiftly, he created distance, and with a flick of his wrist—
"Subspace!"
A rift opened, and a new dagger landed in his palm. His demonic form allowed him to infuse this one with regenerated spirit—closing the weakness Justin had identified.
Now with two viable daggers, Desmond adjusted his stance. Justin, watching closely, adapted on the fly and surged in again—only to be blindsided by a punch he couldn't even see.
Crash!!
The hit sent Justin flying backward, skidding across debris. For a moment, his flames went out.
I didn't even see it… He didn't throw the dagger, didn't move his body. But the impact was real. What changed...? Justin thought, climbing out of the rubble.
"Well, that was a surprise," he muttered, breathing hard. "Made me burn through my oxygen reserves. You're better than I thought…"
He paused.
"Why don't we—"
Woosh!
A blur of motion shot past him. Justin dodged just in time.
"Well that's not polite. I wasn't done talking," he said, taking a deep breath. His flames roared back to life.
Desmond's mind spun. How did he see me? Even with this speed?
He needed to go faster—he had no choice.
Crouching low, he widened his stance, arms tensed. He had caught Justin off-guard once, but he wouldn't get lucky again. Not unless he ended this now, before Justin figured out his full transformation and shut it down.
They circled, watching… then clashed again. Fists and flame, dagger and fire.
Justin showed his battle-tested experience, parrying Desmond's blinding strikes. Then, with a feint and counter, he landed a clean blow—sending Desmond tumbling back.
Justin staggered, his breathing ragged. The fight had lasted over thirty minutes, and the toll was mounting. His vision blurred. Years of smoking were catching up.
But Desmond wasn't faring any better. His demonification was reaching its threshold. The balance between regeneration and consumption was shifting. Soon, his spirit would decay faster than it could recover. If that happened… he would lose himself completely and become a true demon.
The only thing keeping him functional was the spiritual boost his transformation granted—and that too was failing.
They locked eyes. No words exchanged, but both understood: this had to end—now.
The mansion around them continued to crumble.
Justin bought time.
Desmond lost it.
With a crazed grin twisting his draconic face, Desmond hurled a dagger—And charged, ready to end it all.