The Witch Ball Game was in full swing, and the crowd roared as spells crackled through the air. On the enchanted field, players dashed, dodged, and countered each other's attacks, their wands glowing brightly with energy. Each team worked to secure their enchanted orb and score points by channeling magic through it into the opposing team's goal.
Lucifer's team dominated the game, their dark, synchronized strategy overwhelming the opposing side. At the heart of the chaos stood Behemoth, a towering figure with broad shoulders and a menacing scowl. As Lucifer's second-in-command, he was a formidable opponent, known for his brute strength and unyielding spells.
Asmodeus stood at the edge of the field, gripping his wand tightly. His heart raced as he watched Behemoth hurl a torrent of fire toward one of his teammates, forcing the poor boy to retreat. The crowd cheered Behemoth's name, his dominance on the field undeniable.
"Asmodeus, you're up!" Madara shouted, his voice cutting through the noise.
"What? Me?" Asmodeus stammered, his feet frozen to the ground.
Madara gave him a firm shove forward. "Yes, you! This is your moment. Trust yourself!"
Asmodeus stumbled onto the field, his palms slick with sweat. His stomach churned as he faced Behemoth, who was already sneering at him from across the field.
"Really?" Behemoth taunted, his deep voice booming. "This is your backup? A newbie who can barely hold his wand straight?"
The crowd laughed, and Asmodeus felt his cheeks burn. He glanced at Madara on the sidelines, who gave him an encouraging nod.
"You can do this," Madara mouthed.
Taking a deep breath, Asmodeus squared his shoulders and raised his wand. "Let's get this over with."
Behemoth's grin widened as he twirled his wand lazily. "Fine. I'll make this quick."
The duel began with Behemoth launching a massive bolt of energy. The fiery orb sped toward Asmodeus, its heat palpable even from a distance. Panicking, Asmodeus raised his wand and shouted the first defensive spell that came to mind.
"Aegis Lumina!"
A shimmering barrier of light materialized in front of him, just barely absorbing the impact of Behemoth's attack. The force pushed Asmodeus back a few steps, his knees trembling under the strain.
"Not bad for a rookie," Behemoth sneered, twirling his wand again. "But let's see how long you can last."
He fired another spell, this one a wave of dark tendrils that snaked across the field. Asmodeus hesitated, his mind racing. He knew he couldn't just defend forever—he had to attack.
"Ignis Fluctus!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the tendrils. A jet of flame erupted from his wand, colliding with Behemoth's attack and disintegrating the dark magic.
The crowd gasped, and for the first time, Behemoth's smirk faltered. "Hmph. Lucky shot," he muttered.
Encouraged by his small victory, Asmodeus felt a spark of confidence ignite within him. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on Behemoth's movements.
Behemoth charged forward, his wand glowing with another spell. "Let's see you handle this!" he roared, unleashing a torrent of icy shards.
Asmodeus reacted instinctively, weaving his wand in a quick arc. "Ventus Galea!"
A gust of wind burst forth, scattering the shards and sending a few back toward Behemoth. One of the shards grazed his arm, leaving a shallow cut.
Behemoth's eyes widened in shock. He wasn't used to being hit, let alone by someone like Asmodeus. The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and jeers, their excitement palpable.
"Alright, kid," Behemoth growled, his tone losing its cocky edge. "No more games."
He raised his wand high, channeling a massive surge of energy. The air around him crackled with raw power, and even the spectators felt the weight of the spell he was about to unleash.
Asmodeus's heart pounded in his chest. He knew he couldn't match Behemoth's power directly, but maybe he didn't have to. Madara's words echoed in his mind: It's not about perfection—it's about showing up and giving it your all.
Instead of retreating, Asmodeus took a step forward. He lowered his wand slightly, focusing his energy into a precise, calculated spell.
"Illusio Tempus!"
A burst of light erupted from his wand, enveloping the field in a blinding glow. Behemoth staggered, momentarily disoriented.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Asmodeus moved swiftly, channeling a spell to knock Behemoth off balance. "Vincula Terra!"
Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around Behemoth's legs and pulling him down. He struggled against the magical binds, his face contorted with rage, but the spell held firm.
The referee's whistle blew, signaling the end of the duel.
"Asmodeus wins!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and astonished murmurs. Asmodeus stood frozen, his chest heaving as he processed what had just happened.
Behemoth glared up at him, his pride clearly bruised. "Don't think this means anything, kid," he snarled. "You just got lucky."
Asmodeus offered a small, hesitant smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you underestimated me."
As he walked off the field, the crowd parted for him, their eyes filled with a mix of respect and disbelief. Madara was waiting for him on the sidelines, grinning from ear to ear.
"Told you," Madara said, clapping him on the back. "You've got more in you than you realize."
Asmodeus managed a weak laugh, his knees still trembling. "I can't believe I actually did it."
"You did more than just do it," Madara replied. "You beat one of Lucifer's best. And now? Now they know you're not just some rookie."
Asmodeus glanced back at Behemoth, who was being helped off the field by his teammates. For the first time, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he wasn't as out of place at the academy as he thought.