Who Made This Battle Maniac the Demon King?!

[Gossip]

Who Made This Battle Maniac the Demon King?!
An unapologetically cracky @Peregrine and @Gossip Production
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Kayne awoke as the first rays of dawn painted the Royal Capital in gold. The soft light of what looked to become a beautiful day was a good omen for a wedding; His wedding with the love of his life, Amadea, to be precise.

It was therefore with a blissful smile on his tanned face that the young man of nineteen summers prepared for the day ahead, the blond radiating joy and anticipation as a veritable army of servants attended to him that morning. The whole of the Duke's household was infected with Kayne's good mood, and as he stepped through the threshold leading to the small dining hall reserved to his father's kin, the boy felt like he was walking on clouds. Bowing deeply to his father, his older brother and their respective wives, the golden youth would be hard-pressed to retell the topic spoken when the family broke their fast, so consumed was he in his elation of finally marrying the girl he had loved for most of his life.

Princess Amadea was a goddess amongst men; there was no maiden as lovely as the third princess of the Kingdom of Stella, and soon to be his bride. As the second son of one of the four Duke that was second only to the Royal Family in nobility, Kayne had known Amadea since they were both children; That familiarity and long-lasting friendship turned into the sweetest and purest of love, and soon enough Kayne was granted his childhood sweetheart's hand by her father the King soon after her sixteenth birthday a year ago. After a year of preparation, their union was to be finalized at noon that day, leading to a full month of celebrations all over the kingdom.

Truly, Kayne was the happiest man in the world that day; the luckiest one, certainly, to be marrying for love despite being part of High Nobility. The blond swore he wouldn't take his good fortune for granted, and that he would cherish his soon-to-be wife and protect her from all ills and harms to his dying breath - nothing else was of any consequence.

The morning passed without him noticing much of it unfolding before his eyes, clear blue eyes taking a dreamy cast as the youth was constantly sidetracked with thoughts of the ceremony ahead, and the life that would come after. Time passed in the blink of an eye, and before he knew it, the young noble found himself standing before an altar, his feet bare and his body clad in white silk and delicately embroidered gold as what could only be a vision from heaven walked down the cathedral's nave towards him, her honey-blond hair adorned with the same flowers that sat upon his own lighter curls in a makeshift crown.

At the very moment their eyes met, Kayne felt his breath hitch as his eyes dilated; his heart hammered like a drum that he felt all the way to his toes as his mouth became as dry as the desert, his whole body tuned to the moment where two hearts would become one in the eyes of the Gods. Tanned cheeks flushed pink, the groom uttered something he couldn't hear to the girl now taking her place before him before their hands clasped one another; it was as if the sweetest of lightning strike sparked from their joined hands then, and the whole world seemed even more vivid and lovely at that moment.

The priest guided the blushing couple through the ceremony, and as the last knot of golden rope was secured around their joined wrists and their lips finally met in their first kiss as husband and wife, the sun above their heads darkened.

And then… and then there was pure Chaos.

 

[Peregrine]

"It's a beautiful day for a wedding, a beautiful day to crash a wedding~"

Humming casually to himself in a voice only a few notes off from completely tone deaf, a broad shouldered man wrapped in a black cloak strolled casually down the street, his boots echoing unexpectedly loudly against the stone. He walked forward with an unstoppable momentum that naturally caused the people around him to shift away from his presence. No one came within half a foot of touching the hem of his cloak.

"It's a beautiful day to crash a wedding, a beautiful day to steal a bride~"

Around him, the buildings were growing progressively more high class, the windows filled with ornate glass. In the distance, the spires of the royal cathedral were rapidly drawing closer. Unconsciously, the man's footsteps sped up as he approached.

"It's a beautiful day to steal a bride, a beautiful day to pick a fight~"

There were guards around the cathedral, keeping the riffraff away. Behind them, it was just possible to see the figures of finely clothed people, moving around in the courtyard in front of the church. The guards unconsciously tensed as the man began to approach, but he merely offered them a half-wave before turning down a neighboring alley. The guards unconsciously relaxed.

"It's a beautiful day to pick a fight, a beautiful day to pick a fight~"

Halfway down the alley, the man stopped. A moment later, and he catapulted himself upwards, his cloak momentarily fluttering about him like wings. His feet touched down unexpectedly lightly on the third story tiled roof, which looked over the courtyard of the grand church.

"It's a beautiful day to pick a fight~"

True to the faint glimpses he'd gotten through the line of guards, the courtyard was swarming with nobility, who were seated around numerous tables. Waiters carried around trays of wine and champagne, or small horderves the guests picked at lazily. At the very far end of the tables, in front of the doors to the church, a heavily dressed pontiff stood next to a magnificent altar. It was clear that no expense had been spared for the entire ceremony, and even the sun seemed to shine down brightly on the proceedings.

At the sound of someone appearing on the rooftop, a red-haired woman who had been leaning casually against the chimney straightened. She sashayed gracefully over to the cloaked man, before tugging the hood off his head. A black haired man with brilliantly emerald eyes was abruptly revealed to the sky.

The woman smiled gracefully at him, casually inserting herself into his arms. The man, however, had yet to take his eyes off the ceremony.

"What are you doing here?"

Despite the young woman practically purring in his arms, the man hardly glanced at her.

"You've found a new toy, haven't you? I'm here to help."

"Don't call my fated rival a toy."

"He's not your fated rival. Your fated rival isn't destined to show up for another 73 years."

"I'm not waiting 73 more years for a fated rival!"

"I know, my love." The red-haired woman extracted herself from her position against his chest, before gently tapping the side of his face. "But the last time you picked a 'fated' rival, you turned him into meat paste before three days had passed. I'll help make sure this one is a bit more… durable."

The man stared for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together, before he abruptly nodded once. "Fine."

The wedding reception progressed. The guests lined up, the band began to play. A suited man stood next to the altar, watching a white-dressed woman walk down the pathway between the guests. On the roof, the woman began to mutter to herself, green sparks arcing between the fingers of one hand. Her other hand grabbed something from a bag that glimmered in the sunlight.

The man folded his arms impatiently, leaning back. "How long do I have to wait?"

"Just until they're wedded."

"Honestly. Why can't I just grab her now? I want to grab her now."

"Won't it impact him much more to steal his wife than his fiancée? He'll come find you that much faster. Just another couple minutes, love."

The ceremony progressed. The priest recited their vows, before a golden string was tied around their wrists. As they leaned in for a kiss, the red haired woman abruptly threw her handful of dust into the air. The sky instantly went dark.

"Go do your thing, sweetheart."

With a maniacal laugh, the black haired man flung himself from the rooftop, falling towards the wedding. He landed with none of the lightness he'd demonstrated when he touched down on the roof. Instead, it was like a cannonball fell from the sky. A cloud of dust erupted from where he landed, causing the nearby people to shriek in shock. A second later, and the nearby guards were blown away with a shockwave that disintegrated their iron armor.

"Weaklings!" the man shouted, his words causing everyone in range to suddenly stumble, their hands clasped around their ears. "Pathetic."

With no one left standing in his way, the man strode forward, every one of his steps echoing like drum beats. However, despite the slow pace at which he seemed to walk, it was only a moment later that he was suddenly standing right in front of the newly wedded couple, one arm wrapped around the bride.

"You want to live happily ever after with your new bride? Well, then, you'll have to come get her back from me, Lord Siric Rarnan, the King of Demons."

Before the groom had a chance to respond, Siric blurred into motion, his fist lashing out against his fated rival's chest. A moment later, and his eyes went wide in surprise as the man went flying backwards, crashing into the heavy stone wall of the church and causing a burst of stone dust to shower down around him.

"...Did I hit him too hard?" he muttered under his breath, before tipping his head back and laughing. His fated rival would never be that weak.

"Hurry up and find me," he said to the crumpled figure, before his hand lashed out again. This time, it wasn't any physical thing that shattered at his blow. Instead, space itself seemed to crumple in front of his hand, condensing and tearing before a black rift appeared in front of them. Siric tossed the bride in first, laughed again, and then followed behind.