Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Nanatsu no Taizai belong to Nakaba Suzuki and his sadistic mind. Please consider supporting the official release.

Got my own monster,

Nobody but me,

I would never call him an enemy,

He's the bad god I need,

Losing my boundaries,

Setting me free,

Oh, in my dreams he speaks to me,

He's the bad god I need,

He's the bad god I need

-WDL, Monster Vs. Angel

The Ritual, Part One: The Tournament

Warm scarlet painted the evening skies, bathing the lands of Britannia in an amber glow, the sun hastily retreating below the horizon. Several small, fluffy clouds caught the various hues of the sunset adding splashes of vibrant colours across the heavens. Pinks, greens, blues, purples.

Wind swept across the landscape effortlessly, a few trees dancing lazily in the breeze. The western winds brought with them the sweet salt of the sea along with the crisp air of the western isles. A few sparks flew from broadswords, the small flecks of energy eye catching in the dimming world around them. The sound of metal scrapping metal was dense in the air as wandering soldiers and mercenaries wrapped up the last of their evening training.

Elizabeth sat below a hawthorn tree slightly to the East to the action. Her soft, silvery hair picking up the twilight and painting it a radiant pink tone. She sat with her back pressed against the sturdy trunk, her eyes glued towards the heavens.

She had found herself doing this more often lately. She had been stationed in Britannia for little more than a month, though to her it felt like years. It was her first time outside the goddess' realm and as happy as she was initially for the limited freedom she had whilst training, she couldn't help but feel a little homesick.

Britannia was beautiful, wonderful; it was magnificence beyond any word Elizabeth knew how to describe. From the sway of the grass in the breeze, to the various earthy smells that permeated the air, the people or the animals – but especially the pure magical energies that saturated it all in a glow that was unique to the Britannia and Britannia alone.

The whole world was in stark contrast to the endless cloud ocean of the Goddess realm and the ceaseless light that radiated from each cardinal direction. Silvers, gold's and porcelain white was beautiful, sure, but nothing compared to the endless colours of the land's she found herself in now.

It was no wonder her mother, the Supreme deity of the Goddess race, had fought so hard to preserve it all. Or, for that matter, why more sinister beings would want to steal it all away for themselves.

The purpose of Elizabeth's visit to this realm was simple – to train and prepare to join the efforts against the forces that would seem to tarnish it. Be it human, rebellious giant's or fearies, but most of all demon's.

Goddess', while powerful beings in and of themselves, drew their energies from the world around them. Most goddess' who had been born and raised in the Goddess realm needed training on how to accept different energy source.

Elizabeth had spent countless hours in prayer, establishing a connection to the endless power of the land itself. She had been trained on how to feel for the energies, follow the ley lines, read the winds for traces of magical spikes of energies. She had learned the holy ways of the druids – the Goddess' servants in Britannia – in the way of love, humility and empathy.

Now it was nearing the end of all her druid mentors could offer her and she was currently being brought to her final trial. After this test, she will finally be able to accept Britannia's energy into her own without issue.

It was a fairly big deal under most circumstances, but especially so considering Elizabeth's rank and birth status.

The test would be preceded by a tournament of Britannian fighters. All could enter, regardless of rank, status or birth; the only exceptions being demons and giants. The winner of the Tournament, to Elizabeth's understanding, would meet with her and offer her the final key in establishing a connection with the land and it's magic.

"Is all well, Lady Elizabeth?" The soft voice was a stark difference from the dying sounds of the last of the sparring men below. Elizabeth's escort, a young druid boy named Tristam had come to collect her for the night.

"I am well Tristam. Is it time to head back?" Elizabeth rose, her large wings stretching out comfortably behind her.

In truth, Elizabeth hoped she could have enjoyed her time alone a bit longer, but the tournament would begin first thing at sunrise tomorrow and she had her own preparations to take care of.

"Yes." Elizabeth took one last look at the sky before setting her gaze straight ahead and retreating back to her chambers within the human city.

"What is he doing here?"

"This has to be some kind of joke right?"

"There's no way they'd allow for this…"

Meliodas ignored the relentless gossip that was taking place all around him. He had come to this town simply because he had heard of some kind of festival – and festivals meant good booze.

He sat on the outdoor veranda on the second floor of the small bar, a large stein nearly void of its contents gripped firmly in his left hand. The drink itself was nothing too special, the wheat brew leaving a bitter aftertaste and barely fuzzing his mind even after his fifth round.

He had grown used to the chatter everywhere he went by this point. 50 or so odd years of residing in Britannia had got him decently acclimated to its human inhabitants – nearly all of whom wouldn't take kindly on a demon even if it was life or death.

Not that he blamed them. He had killed many in cold blood over small squabbles or even an off glance. How the humans managed to continue an existence was beyond him, but years away from his demon kin had seen him grow indifferent to the creatures.

"Maybe we should tell the Goddess'…"

He kept his void black eyes hidden behind his lids as he took one last deep swig of the alcohol. He felt a few men behind him tense up as he slammed the wooden cup down onto the well-worn table. He stood up swiftly and deposited a gold coin on the uneven tabletop. All eyes were on Meliodas, his pure power making him the undisputed alpha in the area, even despite his small stature and boyish looks.

He spun around on his heel, stuffing one hand into his pocket while the other rested comfortably on the hilt of his sword. He walked over to the rail of the veranda overlooking the city square. Humans were all over the place, streamers and decorations flying between hands and quickly being assembled. A few men were at work finishing up a fence around a dirt ring.

"Man I would totally enter the tournament!"

"I heard the grand prize this year is getting a favour done for you by a Goddess"

"Not just any goddess, I heard this is some big shot we got this year!"

Meliodas' ears pricked up at this information. Had he heard that right? A favour for a goddess? He had come across plenty of Goddess' throughout his life, despatched many more. They were hardly a race willing to just give away a favour without some loophole. For a so called "holy" race the Goddess clan was more corrupt than even the lowliest demon ranks.

"There's going to be a tournament here?" Meliodas turned towards the gossipers, his face stoic with minor interest at their reactions to being acknowledged. Even to black-out drunks his presence was enough to sober them up instantly. "What's that about?"

"Y-yes sir." The drunk man slurred out, careful to be respectful lest he offend the demon before him. "W-we 'old one every f-few years, Sir."

"That we do, Sir." The second drunkard joined in a failed attempt not to look disrespectful after being address. "Apart o' some Goddess ritual it is, Sir. Grand prize is an audience with the Goddess 'erself, mi'lord."

"That it is, Sir. No one knows what happens besides the lucky bloke comes back grinning from ear to ear, bags o' gold or booze at 'is hip he does."

Some Goddess ritual that human's take part in? The whole prospect reeked of foul play to Meliodas.

"How does one take part in this tournament?" Meliodas turned his back to the drunkards and watched as a few men building the fence around the arena argued over something.

"S-surely you don't want to enter Mi'lord, Sir!"

Meliodas let his power pulse out of him causing all the men on the veranda's hair to stand on end.

"Just show up at dawn!" The second drunk spat out, the fear laced in his tone mildly amusing to the demon. "Everyone in the ring at sunrise is considered a participant!"

'How careless' Meliodas thought. The goddess' left it open? So the ritual didn't require anyone in particular? So then why not just possess some human and forgo the troublesome spectacle? With his interest in the bar completely spent, He effortlessly leapt from the veranda, landing softly on the ground below. A few human's watched in mixed horror at the man who just jumped from the second floor of a building. Meliodas was careful to keep his eyes lowered lest one decided to get a loose tongue around a goddess. Normally he didn't care if he was found out, town riots were always amusing to watch, and much more amusing to raze down slowly after he had his fun. However, right now he needed a plan to get into this stupid tournament.

Of course, it was the Goddesses. No use in him trying to understand their impractical methods. What he could do was scope out the enemies playing field, get some intel that could be useful in his race's efforts against the wretched creatures.

Though he doubted they would willingly allow a demon into their tournament, much less their rituals. Perhaps he could just keep his distance, keep to the shadow's and observe? That sounded incredibly boring and inefficient. If he could take part it would be over with in a flash and he could be gone by morning. If the information was good, maybe the Goddesses would suffer a few missing battalions by noon tomorrow.

"Excuse me, Sir?" a woman's voice came from Meliodas' left. He turned his gaze towards the sound. There was a narrow alley next to him, darkened from the dying twilight. A tall woman cloaked in a purple robe slowly glided towards him, her hand outreached as if beckoning him towards her. "I couldn't help but notice your predicament. Perhaps I could help you?"

Meliodas stopped his forward trek, raising his face to look at the woman and allowing his demon brand to surface briefly in warning. "I'd be careful if I were you, woman."

The woman chuckled softly as Meliodas brushed his energy against her own. The familiar sparks of strong magical power stoking his interests enough not to slaughter her on the spot.

"At peace, demon. I am but a humble travelling mage." The woman lowered her cloak revealing her short glossy raven hair and otherworldly amethyst eyes. She gave a sly smile, her energy pushed against his own in a show of defiance. "You wish to enter the Goddess' tournament, do you not?"

Meliodas retracted his own power, lowering his guard just enough for the mage to catch his meaning without exchanging words. Go on, I'm listening.

Elizabeth had never felt so hot before in her life. Each word that came out of the Goddess who had come to fill her in on the proceedings tomorrow made her face hit a new shade of red. Her wings twitched awkwardly behind her, her sweaty hands fought to raise to her face, to hide her away from the conversation; but she kept them balled in her lap as she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

"It's normal to be nervous." The goddess continued in a mildly sympathetic tone, "but it has to be done. We cannot fully establish a link with Britannia's power without this ritual. Many young goddesses have gone through the process before. It may be… awkward, but you'll get used to it with time – maybe even grow to enjoy it as so many have!"

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm again. For her race - for Britannia - she was willing endure the worst punishments, dance on broken glass and hot coals, walk through purgatory and back, but this?!

"I promise you, it may hurt a little at first, but it's all a matter of attitude. If you overthink it it'll go bad for both you and your partner. Just give in to your senses and try to enjoy it."

The goddess paused as if allowing Elizabeth a chance to ask questions or for clarification. Elizabeth was aware she was staring, her mind racing with both thousands of questions and none she was willing to ask. "N-no. I think I understand." She finally did manage to sputter out, her voice sounding too unsure, even to her own ears and completely unbefitting for someone of Elizabeth's ilk.

All of this was unbefitting for someone like Elizabeth! She was the supreme deities own flesh and blood, the princess of the Goddess realm, and yet she was expected to take part of this archaic ritual all the same!

"Are you sure?" The goddess asked, tilting her head in her doubt, "We can go over the ritual again, if you'd like-"

"NO!" Elizabeth flailed her arms around frantically, desperate to stop the woman before she put Elizabeth through that torture again. Anything but that! "I promise you, I'll be fine. I understand what has to be done."

And she did; the problem was she didn't understand why. Weren't goddess' supposed to be the embodiment of light and purity? Couldn't they find some other way to tap into Britannia's energies without having to lay with one of its inhabiting races?

"Good. I'll be back in to morning to pray with you and go over the ceremonies again. Depending on how long the tournament lasts we may be here 'til the morrow, I've seen some very promising warriors out there. I suggest you rest well tonight."

"T-thank you. I will."

With that, the Goddess turned, finally breaking the soul-shattering eye contact that the two had held for much too long to be comfortable. As soon as the door clicked shut behind the woman Elizabeth let out a deep sigh, fluttering her wings and relaxing her spine out of its rigid straight pose.

She flopped backwards onto her bed, bouncing slightly as her hair fell around her pillow in a silver halo. The last of the day's light was finally shying away, leaving nothing but the flicker of a few stray candles to keep away the encroaching darkness of the night. Crickets sang lazily and the last caws of ravens were finally dying down to make way for the hoo's of owls and songs of night insects. A cool breeze danced gusted through the open window of Elizabeth's room causing the candles flames to dance wildly on their wicks.

Elizabeth watched as the soft glow moved across her stone ceiling. Would that night also see her laying down, staring at her ceiling under candle glow as her partner crept over her? Would she close her eyes in embarrassment or keep her gaze solid as they glided against each other? Would her partner be handsome? Beautiful? Man, woman? Human, druid or fearie?

Would she truly come to enjoy it as the Goddess had said? Would she find pleasure in bedding denizens of Britannia when she needed to re-establish her connection with the Earth, or would she come to dread each encounter there after?

Meliodas stood in the town square. A few contestant's eager to size up the competition slowly arriving one after the other.

Sunrise wasn't too far off and the sickeningly sweet sound of morning song birds were slowly beginning to fill the skies. None of the men or women seemed to pay Meliodas any mind, a far cry from the usual suspicion and fear he had become accustomed with – his powerful aura setting off anyone with even a shred of magical power in his nearby vicinity. It was a good indicator that the mage had not sold him short, though he was sure even one as brave and cunning as her knew better than to piss off a greater demon.

"This potion will supress your demon abilities for 36 to 48 hours." The mage, Merlin, had transported Meliodas to her workshop. The eerie green and purple glows that emanated from a cauldron and various glass jars would be unsettling to most, their demonic contents grotesque; but for Meliodas it brought back memories of his younger days, training his with younger brothers, hunts that lasted days, sometimes weeks and left Meliodas covered in ichor and grime. Most of all, his lectures with Chandler – as much as he hated them at the time – which allowed him to identify most of the ingredients by both human and demonic names.

Merlin handed the flask to him, the burgundy fluid inside splashing against the glass and leaving a trail of oil that slowly trailed down with gravity. "What's in it for you?" Meliodas asked, the skepticism in his voice plain.

"You could say its general interest." Merlin gave a sly grin that somehow worked to make Meliodas trust her, even if just slightly. "I side with neither demon nor goddess. I side with knowledge and experimentation. Take what you may from that."

Meliodas unscrewed the cork that kept the tincture sealed. Immediately he was struck by the powerful smell of burning salt and ichor. He held out the flask, his gaze never once wavering from the mage before him. "Drink." He commanded.

Merlin looked at him bewildered. "It will have no effect on me, if that's what you're hoping for, nor would I poison you." She reached out a slender hand and grabbed hold of the flask regardless, taking a quick sip and swallowing before handing the flask back to the demon. "Few poisons work against greater demons after all, all of which are incredibly hard to come across."

"Open your mouth." Meliodas commanded again and Merlin complied. Satisfied he actually ingested the liquid, he replaced the cork and pocketed the liquid.

"I'll be rooting for you." Merlin chuckled under her breath. The world around Meliodas turned white, then dark as the familiar surroundings of the alley materialized around him once more. Merlin was nowhere in sight.

Shop keepers and vendors began pooling into the town square now, taking boards off their make shift stalls and taking stock for the day. Ovens were lit and firewood was counted.

A man that was easily double Meliodas' height brushed against him hard, knocking him back a few steps. He felt his anger raise to a near boiling point as he turned to face the man. He was balding, most likely in the middle of his human lifespan. His arms were covered with scars and mementos of battles fought long ago, his body built from years of harsh work.

Normally, no one would dare step foot near Meliodas, much less willingly bump into him. He tried to call forth his hellblaze, only to feel a fizzling spark of what was once purgatories toxic burn come forth within him. Merlin's potion was working aggravatingly well.

"Oops, sorry, didn't see 'ya there, buddy. Ya lost? Lookin' fer yer mum?" The man kneeled down to get on Meliodas' height, his voice chastising and demeaning. "This is no place for kids."

"No." He locked eyes with the man. He was aware of the people around him watching the stand-off. "I'm here to enter the tournament."

The crowd let out a howl of laughter. Meliodas tried to summon forth his hellblaze once more to no avail, his pathetic state grating at his nerves, stoking the flames of his wrath along with the bellowing laughter of the crowd; and practically from the man who was currently clutching his gut as he laughed directly in front of him.

Meliodas grabbed hold of the man's right arm that was currently rubbing tears from his warped face. It was like straight ecstasy was being pumped into his veins when he felt the bones in the man's arm twist and snap, his laughter being replaced with shrieks of agony. 'It seems the potion didn't suppress my physical strength much.'

With a dancer's grace, Meliodas twisted his arm backwards, earning him a second satisfying snap, he side stepped around his large frame, dragging his arm painfully behind his back and bragging him down so he was on his knees in-front of him – the man now forced to look up at the demon from a side glance.

"You got a problem with that?" The demon spoke directly into the man's ear, frigid venom laced on every word. Around them the crowd looked on in horror, stoking Meliodas' ego slightly from their hushed whispers.

He released the man roughly, kicking him down to lay in the dirt of the street. The crowd had begun to disperse, whether from not wanting to get in Meliodas' path or loss of interest – it didn't matter to him. He had made his point, gotten his five seconds of release in.

The man at Meliodas' feet began to rise, clutching his shattered arm to keep It from swaying around limply as he limped out of his path and out of sight.

Morning had come too fast; much too fast.

Before Elizabeth knew it, she was being whisked off to various chambers and meeting with various dignitaries. She was dressed up in gold and silver from head to toe, garbed in a loose-fitting white, silk dress that hugged her curves just enough to give her shape while still maintaining a modest silhouette. Each of her four wings were adorned with jewels and various gems of varying size and clarity.

Finally, hair was pinned up loosely against the crown of her head, leaving her with multiple ringlets that spilled around her face. A simple silver circlet was placed over the tresses and a white veil hung over Elizabeth's face.

She currently found herself standing a-top a government building that oversaw the heart of the town. Her posture was perfectly stiff as she stood for hours, unmoving, overseeing the tournament take place below. The various metals weighing her down in unfamiliar places and wearing away at her stamina even more than rigorous hours of prayer with the druids.

Noon came and went, and Elizabeth stood. At varying times a goddess would come and offer food and drink, with which she stood as she ate and watched. She was grateful for her bare footedness, as any form of formal shoes would surely have destroyed her feet by now.

Below the various races – mainly human – gathered around; watching the Tournament, trying to catch a peak at the goddess', stopping at the various stalls. A group of musicians had set up in one corner and dancer's twirled around energetically. A couple men were collecting bets.

The tournament dragged on. It was meant to be a free-for-all. Last man standing takes all the spoils. Various fights had broken out over the hours, yet little over half had been eliminated thus far. A few weaker humans had struck a deal, targeting various druid or fearie, some other's chose to play it defensive and simple wait for an attacker before they struck, other's had simply tried to avoid the conflict all together.

Elizabeth slowly found her thoughts shifting as the tournament dragged on until there was nearly a quarter left of what they had started with. She watched each promising contestant, wondering what their life was like, what their reasoning for entering was, if they would come to love her for her or simply because it was their chance to lay with a goddess?

A handful really stuck out to Elizabeth, a tall man with stark white hair and a deep, mangled scar that ran down his left cheek, a woman with brown hair tied into two neat pigtails on either side of her head, a second short man with stark orange hair who kept rushing headstrong into every ensuing fray, and finally, a shorter, blond man who seemed to avoid conflict all together, only engaging when approached.

She kept finding her gaze direct back to the blond man. He was dressed in a washed out long coat, a red shirt and black pants tucked into leather boots. He seemed to be watching each contestant as if sizing up his prey. His eyes was cold, void of emotions, emerald green that seemed to cloud over from his malicious gaze. Elizabeth felt a shiver rush down her spine, dread of possibly having to spend the night with him settling into the realm of possibly as each remaining contestant was thrown from the ring.

Finally, just as the beginnings of twilight had begun to set in, a Tristam came to collect Elizabeth for dinner – the one meal she was allowed rest for during that day.

All throughout the meal Elizabeth mulled over the possible victors. When she had left, it had come down to the final 10.

Would she spend the night with the white haired man with the scar? Perhaps the headstrong redhead? Maybe the woman?

The familiar feeling of dread hit her as that mop of blond flashed into her mind, his cold, hard stare drilling straight through her even from within a memory.

She had said a quick prayer for anyone who would treat her well to win, and certainly not for him to claim the title.

Outside, roars of applause and cheers shook the walls of the government building. Before thinking, Elizabeth was on her feet, her weighted wings allowing her to glide through the twisting halls until she reached the doors to the balcony.

She burst through the large wooden doors, throwing herself against the railing as she looked down to see who had won.

Pure horror cut through Elizabeth like a hot knife. She could feel all the blood drain from her as she stood frozen in place by his stare.

For there, in the center of the ring, one hand pulled skyward in a show of victory by the judge and his gaze directly fixed onto her stood him.

"And the winner of this year's ritual tournament is…" The judge screamed out over the cheers of the crowds. He leaned down into the boy's ear. He replied without once taking his stare off of Elizabeth.

"Meliodas!"