In an unyielding cycle of attack and evasion, Val relentlessly pursued Azazel, while the latter consistently evaded his strikes by teleporting away in the nick of time.

The sight of frustration and anger beginning to etch themselves onto Azazel's face elicited a smile from Val. Relentlessly pressing his attack, Val left Azazel with no respite, no moment to even draw breath. He took satisfaction in the fact that his relentless offensive was wearing Azazel down.

Val's strategy was simple yet effective: to launch an unending barrage of attacks, driving Azazel towards a metaphorical corner. In such a pressured state, he hoped that Azazel would succumb to panic, causing a slip-up in the heat of the moment. When that moment arrived, Val would seize the opportunity, using Azazel's mistake as a lever to tip the scales of the fight and make him pay.

What Val yearned for more than anything was the shattering of Azazel's haughty confidence. The prospect of witnessing that dawning realization on Azazel's face — the acknowledgment of his own error — was a delicious thought. For a person that prided himself on infallibility, such a moment would be a profound blow, and Val sought to be the one to deliver it.

Val harbored an intense hatred for Azazel, a fire that was kindled the day he learned of Nightcrawler's lineage. His resentment wasn't rooted in the fact that Nightcrawler was Azazel's son. Rather, it was the circumstances surrounding his birth that sparked Val's disdain.

Azazel had engaged in a clandestine affair with Mystique, at a time when she was betrothed to a Baron. Having fathered a child with her, he then twisted Mystique's emotions, persuading her that their illicit liaison was nothing more than a fleeting bout of physical passion. Azazel instructed her to raise their child, Kurt Wagner, as if he were the legitimate son of her Baron husband.

Such underhanded actions deeply irked Val. He held a marked distaste for narratives that revolved around such acts of deception and manipulation, and an equal contempt for characters who played such roles.

In an upward flurry of teleportations, Azazel propelled himself ever higher into the sky. With gritted teeth and a defiant glare fixed on Val's smirk, he said, "You think just because I'm retreating and dodging your attacks, you're superior to me?"

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Val responded with an annoying smirk, savoring the irritation etched onto Azazel's face. His voice was laced with confident mockery as he retorted, "There's no need for me to 'think'. I am superior to you. That's a fact you're going to have to swallow, demon bitch."

Azazel roared back, "Me, a 'bitch'?! It's you who's the bitch here! I'll show you just how grossly you've overestimated yourself."

Azazel teleported himself directly toward Val, fist poised to strike. But in an unexpected twist, Val's hand shot out, capturing Azazel's punch mid-air. A surge of panic rippled through Azazel, and he frantically attempted to teleport away. But strangely, he couldn't.

Desperately, Azazel made repeated attempts to teleport, but to no avail. Each time he sought to harness the energy that powered his psionic transportation, he felt as if it was being siphoned off, pulled away from him. Then, the realization hit him.

Azazel's eyes widened in horror as he turned to Val, who was watching him with a malicious grin. A chilling realization took hold of him: Val had a way to inhibit his powers completely. Stammering, caught in the grip of disbelief, all Azazel could manage to utter was a stuttering, "Y-Y-You—"

Basking in Azazel's expression of disbelief, Val answered with a tone that dripped amusement, "Do you understand now? I've been toying with you since the start. I could have shut you down immediately, but then, I'd have missed out on this priceless expression of yours. To me, you are nothing. Just a plaything to amuse myself with."

The smirk on Val's face faded, his eyes narrowing into a stern gaze. "You disgust me," he declared coldly, "and I've grown tired of this game."

Without another word, Val unleashed a fierce punch directed at Azazel's midsection. The brutal force of his attack was such that it felt like it had utterly rearranged Azazel's insides.

* WHAM *

A spray of blood spurted from Azazel's mouth as he shuddered from the impact of the punch. But Val was far from finished. He reached out, his grip fastening around Azazel's throat before he ruthlessly flung him down towards the Navy vessel.

Val watched as Azazel crashed heavily onto the flight deck, a wince-inducing sight that could be felt vicariously. Without wasting a moment, Val propelled himself downwards in pursuit of his fallen opponent.

* BOOM *

The entire Navy vessel shook as Val landed on Azazel's throat on the flight deck, effectively snuffing out his life. With a contemptuous stare, Val regarded Azazel's lifeless form, a sneer of distaste etched on his features. He spat dismissively onto Azazel's face.

Val was just about to turn and leave when a sudden, unexpected sensation arrested his movement — a firm grip encircling his legs. Looking down, he was taken aback to see Azazel, supposedly dead, clutching his legs with a vice-like grip.

Out of nowhere, Azazel's eyes sprung open, a fierce red glow lighting up the whites of his eyes. His face twisted into a disturbingly evil grin. His voice, now a deep, grating growl, thundered out, "Who dares to kill my vessel?!"

Val held Azazel's eerie gaze for a moment, his mind working quickly. The identity of the one speaking through Azazel dawned on him. His tone was steady, almost casual, as he asked, "Mephisto?"