Chapter 68: Rappa’s Last Rumble

The pale dusk light danced across the distant skyline, gliding down glass towers in soft rose and golds, the city gleaming in the setting sun's rays, rooftops crowned by spires, domes, penthouses, and rooftop gardens of the rich and powerful. Even with such wealth on display, Ōita wasn't some hellhole; the city was clean, well-funded, and largely safe. It might have been a bit out of the way for the number 3-now serving number 2 hero, but it's not a spot many villains would set up shop when they wouldn’t last long.

But that didn't mean it was perfect; Hawks doubted that there was such a place in Japan, much less the world. As he stood by the pier's edge, all the warmth from the city, all the love, and all the life didn't exist here. Standing in a long-abandoned warehouse, his gaze caught it all.

How the rusted chain-link fence clung to its hinges, so old and weak, he flew over it, as if trying to open it could break it. Above him, the corrugated metal roof was thin, rusted, and filled with holes, letting in the last rays of sunlight while its brick walls were streaked with oil, dirt, and soot. Broken windows gaped like wounds in the structure, the holes so old that he noted that some glass had washed away in the rain, most likely into the pier.

It had rained that morning, but the sky cleared up by lunch, leaving only the puddles of stagnant water around the place and an incessant dripping coming from the holes, which he ignored.

At times like this, Hawks couldn't help but wonder if this place, if the duality of the pier and the city, was an apt metaphor for the role of heroes in society. 'No point philosophising about it.' He sighed, only for his right wing to twitch, his features picking up movement.

"You're here early," Dabi announced as she walked in like she owned the place.

"It's more like you're late, Dabi. What? Someone come up?" Hawks asked her, keeping his eyes on the villainess, who he knew was the reason behind the rise in homicides by fire.

"It's more like someone came up, but being annoying can only take so much of my time." Dabi evaded the question, though he had expected nothing less from her. Speaking of annoying, why the call?" She sounded bored, but he wasn't fooled. Those eyes watched him as intently as he watched her, her hand not twitching but close.

It was enough to alert her that she was on a hair trigger and that she hadn't been happy that he had broken their little arrangement to request a meeting, and not the other way around. She only agreed as he made it clear she would choose the location and time. She chose the city that morning, but only sent him the location of the meeting two hours ago.

“Come on, don’t be so cold with me, Dabi. I thought we were growing close.” Hawks smirked, waving his hands about.

“…Well,” Hawks easily saw how she checked him out, top to bottom. She knew he could see it, she wanted him to as he wasn't just an effective hero, but incredibly handsome as anyone could tell. “You’re the second guy to imply you want some of me, but I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

Oh, now Hawks was curious to know who was the first. While he was a fusion of an athlete and male model, Dabi was very much…not the most physically attractive. Maybe she would have been if not for the serious burns across her body. Her attitude didn't win her many points either.

An attitude that was on full display as she flashed him a smile that sent his survival instincts on high alert, though he hid it well. “Besides, I doubt you’ll like my rough play.” He didn't need to know what Dabi considered 'rough play', nor was he morbidly curious enough to ask if she's gone to bed with people and woken up with corpses.

"Wanna bet?" Still, Hawks couldn't just not act interested or give off some of his signature bravado.

Dabi raised an eyebrow at his retort. "Aren't you single? As in single since your debut because of your brand."

Hawks groaned into his hand, seemingly frustrated with that. "Don't remind me, I swear, other heroes start families, and date all the time, yet I'm stuck being the cool guy who's never even kissed a girl. Asked if I could kiss a dude instead, and my PR guy lost it." He added the last part as a joke, but his face sobered as he looked at her.

Flexing his wings, he let some feathers fall around him, the last rays of the sun causing his feathers to almost shine a bright crimson. "It's stifling, having these wings, being able to fly wherever I wish, whenever I wish, and yet being in a cage most of the time, or on a lease." He growled, frustration and anger clear in his voice.

Dabi snorted, crossing her arms but appearing less likely to torch him. “Spare me the BS and tell me why you asked me to bring my ass over.”

Well, time for business then, but then again, this was business start to finish as only an idiot would think Dabi was in any way receptive to him. She wasn't some star-struck fan or low-tier villain, which he respected and hated her for. But she wouldn't wait long, so he got to the point of the meeting. "I heard some rumours, but I wanted to get some details to better handle things on my end."

Dabi’s smile made it clear she knew what he was talking about, but like a cat, she wouldn’t make this easy. “And what rumours would those be?”

"I already know the League and the Thunder are separate, though you like being coy with how loose that word means for your guys." Her smile grew wider, no doubt suspecting he was thinking she was a total bitch…which she was, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing that in his face. "But I heard that the Thunder's trying to expand."

"Now, where did you hear something like that?" Dabi's questions seemed innocent, but were just as dangerous as the woman's. After all, it wasn't as if the Thunder would post about such a thing, or hand out fliers. Even within the criminal world, it was still circulating, so for a hero to already know…

Hawks shrugged, relaxed. “Crooks talk when they think it’ll lighten their sentence, shame my bosses don’t care for scarps.”

“So you came to me for the full 5-course then?” Dabi asked him.

"I came because if I know what's up, I can feed them false info, keep them off the scent. You can even give me false, but plausible stuff to chase down so they don't grow suspicious with how little I'm finding." Hawks replied, reminding her of how much use she could get out of him, as he wasn't a wanted woman, unlike her. He was a top hero with access to things she didn't and plenty of influence.

Dabi didn't dispute his words; after all, that was why she bothered with this when he had first approached them. The winged hero, the number three pro in all of Japan, reaching out to criminals was not something that could be ignored.

But that didn’t mean that they would just trust him. “And how would you know if I’m giving you anything at all, and not just total horse shit?” She challenged, to which he impressed her with how brutal his smile looked.

“Because it’s in your best interest to give me something, maybe not the full 5-course, but maybe an appetiser and bite or two of the dessert.” At his retort, she laughed, throwing her head back and laughing, her rough and charred vocal cords producing a laughter which sounded off-putting, intimidating even, but Hawks didn't flinch, waiting for the pyro villain to calm down.

"All right, I'll give you something to nibble on so your masters can see how cute their pet bird looks as it eats." She sent a little jab his way, getting a frown out of the man. "Yeah, the Thunder's looking to expand, though not by much. When I spoke with them, they're looking for right-hand men who can help them run their little criminal enterprises."

“Enterprises? Aren’t they hired guns?” Hawks asked, sounding confused about that.

“Hell if I know, it’s their business and I don’t ask questions.” Dabi's retort reminded him that he shouldn't ask questions, which he heeded. “All I know is that they got informants in the underground scouting people out, then they’ll put them through some tests to see who’s worth their time.”

Hawks chewed on that, but didn’t push for more. "Well, it's not much, but I can work with that."

"Good, who knows? If you handle this well, the boss might decide to speak with you himself. Or he sends the psycho, and she tries to cut you." Dabi chuckled again, figuring that Toga would like that. She did like pretty boys.

"Thanks, I'll pick your brand of insanity over Toga's any day," Hawks replied as he had read the files on the League, and Toga…she was a dangerous one, how she could just vanish from one’s sight and hearing was a skill that came through blind luck, or intensive training.

But with Toga, they weren’t sure how she acquired it. Besides, her acting ability and judgement were exceptional considering no one realised she had attached Shiketsu's Utsushimi till long after she had vanished, having managed to deceive her friends and teachers long enough to participate in the provisional license exam, pass it, and then vanish. The real Utsushimi was only found the next day, half dead and in dire need of blood transfusions.

"I didn't know you prefer being burned over being cut up." Dabi joked about it, fixing her top as she walked past him towards the exit. “Who knows, I might bring a lighter next time.”

As she reached the open door, she paused, looking back towards Hawks, her gaze anything but friendly. "Remember, you're on a trial run. We need to see how much we can trust each other before I can bring you further into things. So, I'll say this once: Don't call me again." With that, she left, Hawks frowning as he recalled what had gotten him into this mess.

Line Break

“We need you to infiltrate the League of Villains.” Hawks blinked, unsure if he had heard that right, as off as that would be.

He was surprised when he was asked to remain behind after the big meeting, which established the counter-Thunder team. He had assumed that the President had an assignment for him, yes, but nothing like this.

“Hold on, that sounds crazy. Don't you already have Gran Torino and others searching for them?" he asked, to which her assistant and the man who served as the vice president of the commission countered with a question.

“Where did you hear about that?” Like the VP, he had always been no-nonsense, strict, and dedicated to his job. But like the VP, this made him dangerous, which Hawks knew as he looked away.

The President hardly reacted to her subordinate's veiled demand or Hawks' pointed refusal to reveal such information. If anything, she only took it as proof that this was the right call: “We need your assistance, Hawks. You’ve just proven how sharp your ears are.”

"It was part of my training," Hawks reminded her. Still, he wasn’t sold on this. “But setting aside that, I’m already on the anti-Thunder task force. Should I really split my time further?” It wasn't like the counter Thunder unit was announced to the public, he, like the rest of its members, would be responsible for continuing their regular duties without delay or notice of deviation. He was fast, but he was just one person. How was he meant to handle his regular hero work, tracking down the Thunder, and infiltrate the League without messing up one or more of them?

The President didn't pretend this would be easy and was straight with him. Ideally, no, but we don't have much choice here. For better or worse, you’re our most capable and trusted agent. Anyone else would either fail or end up dead in a ditch.” With her, despite all his training, he could never tell if she was speaking from experience or making educated guesses.

The VP added their reasoning for this somewhat harsh choice: "At the Kamino battle, we had to consider the safety of the kidnapping victim and rushed things. We didn't have enough time to plan or enough intelligence to plan with. The whole world saw how that ended up."

Hawks couldn’t refute that, as he had been just as shocked to see how things panned out. From the massive battle, the insane levels of destruction, to All Might’s shrivelled, near skeletal state. And now they were living in that reality, a world without All Might, without the force of suppression and hope his presence brought.

The President saw that as well. “We can’t rely on All Might or luck like that again, and while All for One’s captured and imprisoned, The League’s proof his criminal empire still exists, deep in the shadows.” If she was angry about them missing this, Hawks didn’t know.

“So what? I’m supposed to get close to them but do nothing as they continue causing harm.” He asked, as it was an insult that they believed he could just buddy up with a group of killers and kidnappers, work with them, and see them commit further crimes, and what? Note dates and locations? Gather evidence for a criminal case?

“We expect you to do so because we know you can.” His frown grew at how blunt the VP was, the man turning to face him, his face almost cut from stone, and his words as heavy and uncompromising as granite. "You're indifferent to prestige, fame, or wealth. You don't operate on the same mindset as other heroes who would attempt to arrest them or make it obvious they're against them. And you're far more capable than some undercover police officer. You, Hawks, are the perfect candidate."

Hawks knew that, and hated the fact that he knew that.

"We won't sugarcoat this, it will be perhaps your hardest assignment, one which will last weeks if not months, with how things are going. The League is proven crafty and cautious; they'll suspect you every step of the way, and it will be hard for you to earn even a sliver of trust, but what you give up will be an investment with massive returns." The President gave the pitch for the task, one for which Hawks knew he might just need to sell a part of his soul.

"And by getting close to them, I can find a means to learn more about the Thunder, allowing me to feed that intelligence about them, and possibly their stolen support items." He assumed, which the President didn't deny.

"Like we said, you're one of the best. So, do you accept this mission?"

Hawks’ frown was swapped with a smile, though one which was visibly bitter, annoyed, and yet darkly amused by her question. “Funny that you’re pretending like I have a choice.”

Line Break

"Where are the others?" Rappa asked, walking into the clearing of the forest. Not far from him was Pyre, the boy seated in the grass, playing with his snake while Mummy stood beside him. The sun was out, little clouds in the sky, not too far, a river ran, and birds sang as they flew about, some nesting in the trees surrounding the clearing.

Rappa didn't care for most of it. He never enjoyed nature and only came along on this trip because he was told he would finally get his fight.

Mummy glanced at the larger man but didn't shift from his position. "Busy, it'll just be me acting as referee. If things go too far, I'll stop them."

Rappa chuckled at that, wondering when Mummy became a jokester. "Not much for you to do then, as this ain't ending till one of us dies. And I hope you aren’t gonna pull what Overhaul did. I want a real death match, none of them you keep me alive to work for you.” He turned his attention to Pyre. The boy sighed as he went up, dusting himself off as Koharu slithered away, leaving the two mammals to fight.

“Are you sure about that? I…we’ve never taken a life.” Pyre asked, as he had been hopeful that Rappa could be swayed from this, that perhaps he would accept them fighting all out, but accepting healing after the fact, the same way Pyre trained with the rest of the Thunder.

Sadly for him, Rappa rejected such offers time and time again.

“Don’t you roast people to ash?” Rappa asked, rolling his shoulders, flexing his arms, and getting ready for the fight.

“I do not kill them!” Pyre contested that, glaring at the taller man for implying such. "It might take people down hard, but I always make sure they can survive or even heal up good as new after the fight. I'm not a killer, no matter how much you try to pay.”

"Well, you can stuff that shit with me. This isn't some mission, and I ain't nobody's grandma. I know what this is, and I want this." Rappa told him, but Pyre still didn’t understand it.

“Why?”

"Because it'll be the best time I can have. You know I come from the world of underground MMA and was one of the best in Japan. Still, it's not because I was some poor bastard who needed the money, or got forced into it, or because I loved the attention and glory." Rappa told him, the man recalling his life story.

"It was because I wanted a good fight, I wanted to use my quirk and test my skills against anyone who stood against me, yet…none could last. Most of my opponents went down after a single punch and didn't get back up; those who did just begged for mercy or yelled that they forfeited. Do you know what that's like? Trying to find that one thing you want, only to always be disappointed?" He asked, as he could recall each time, each disappointment.

It didn't matter who it was, man or woman, new or veteran, serious, combative, arrogant. None of it meant jack shit as all it took was a single hit, a single strike. They were dead, out cold, or on the floor, begging for mercy or crawling to the cage's walls and screaming they quit, that they didn't want to keep fighting him and risk death.

Pyre surprised him when he didn't try to talk him down again or look at him in confusion, fear, or disgust. Instead, an odd look flashed through the kid's eyes as he looked at his hands, flexing as he seemed lost in memories of his own.

"I do…but what I want is to make this world better, to build up a society where people like me can thrive, where we can all live as we want, to love as we want, and to express ourselves," Pyre told him, as this was why he was here, why he chose this path, why he turned against his idols, against society…against his mother.

He hated it, he hated knowing that she hated him for what he did, but he just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't pretend that he was like others, that he was their normal. He couldn't keep pretending that he could be like them, and he…didn't want to. He wanted to live, laugh, love, and burn.

But he couldn't do that in the current order, and the longer he spent as a villain, witnessing the dark and grime that the glitz and glamour hid, the stronger his resolve became. Even if All Might offered him a way out, a means to become the hero he once dreamed of being, he couldn't just leave behind his friends. He couldn't turn away from the suffering, the pain, and the hopelessness that so many found themselves punished for having.

Rappa chuckled. "Not a bad dream, kid, weird path to achieve it, but I can respect that." He pointed to his chest, right to where his beating heart lay. "But if you want to make things easier for people, start with this fight. I ain't like you, or most. I live to fight, and I want to die in a fight. I want to find an opponent that can push me to my absolute breaking point, make me work for my victory, or kill me fair and square."

“Okay.” Pyre relented, taking a deep breath, feeling it reach his core, lighting up the furnace. Letting his fans fall into his hands, he dropped them and took a combative stance. “I’ll give you the fight you want, but I have no intention of losing, not when I have so much I still need to do.”

"I like the attitude, kid, first step to winning a fight is believing you can, but I ain't gonna go down easy, so get ready." Rappa got ready. “Ref, start this shit!”

Mummy had his reservations about this, the same as Koharu, but with both fighters on the same page…"The terms of the match have been set. It will be decided by whoever is the last man standing. Lethal strikes are permitted. Ready?" Mummy raised his hand, both fighters going still before he brought it down.

“Fight!” Rappa surged forward like a cannonball, fist reared back before he sent it flying towards Pyre. The sheer force and speed of the strike were so great that Pyre could spot the air compressing around his fist. Without a word, Pyre sparked up his flames, shifting into Boiling Mountain. His hands were bursting into flames as his flesh and bone were replaced with stone and magma, creating enlarged stone-scaled gauntlets from his elbows down.

Pyre raised one arm to block the strike, placing his other hand on its back to reinforce it. This was a wise decision as Rappa's punch hit hard, cracking before smashing his stone scales, bending his limb, and sending him backwards into a tree with a heavy thud and snap as the truck cracked from the force.

Pyre didn't stay down long. He hadn't even slumped to the ground before his legs bent. His feet were placed against the already bent tree trunk, and with a heavy kick, he was sent flying right back towards Rappa, his damaged limb steaming as it realigned and fixed itself.

Rappa didn't slow or was caught off guard, as instead he sent out a fury of blows, each nearly as hard as his first blow. Pyre sent out a fireball, launching him up and above Rappa, swiping at him as he went on by, but the large man was fast and managed to duck under the attack. Landing hands first, Pyre swung one leg backward as much as he could, which should have ruined his landing. Still, he fired off a burst of steam from his foot, blowing it off in blood and flesh, but it did the trick as he launched his hands, sending his other leg, sending it towards Rappa, a modified mule in a kick.

Rappa turning just in time to block it, but the ma could feel the power behind it. Already pulling his other first back, he had to abandon he strike as Pyre twist his body, bringing his ruined leg around, splattering hot blood across Rappa’s face, a face he again blocked as second blast of steam hit it, steam which made opening a boiling pot and putting your face above it feel like a warm breeze.

Again, using the propulsion of the attack, Pyre managed to get back from Rappa. Landing on his one good leg, he gripped the dirt, his large, clawed hands tightly gripping it. With another kick-off start, he shot off towards Rappa, who answered with another barrage of punches.

This time, Pyre didn't pull back; he didn't dodge; he only shifted himself the best he could so that one of Rappa's hits grazed off his shoulder. Even so, that graze was still enough that he could feel his bones breaking, and it would have thrown him off course, but with a third blast of steam, both from his ruined leg and from his now limp arm, he kept his course and speed.

All so he could land a hard, hammer blow punch to Rappa’s gut, having twisting his arm as before he hit the man, Pyre added to it by firing off a blast of fire out his elbow like a rocket, driving his fist even deeper into Rappa who let out a split and stomach bile laced cough as for Rappa found himself the one sent flying, landing on his ass.

It was a good, hard hit for most, which would have given them pause if they could get back up, but Rappa wasn't like most people. Where others would be in agony, or rethinking things, he smiled as he was back on his feet in seconds, his burst shirt and darkening bruise hardly stopping him as he gave a near insane look of hunger as Pyre stood once more, his limbs regrowing.

Neither slowed as they rushed one another yet again, Mummy and Koharu watching as the duel continued. Each punch Rappa threw was a challenge, one which Pyre met with steam and flames, using them as propulsion to enhance his strikes or evade their punches, which came at him like bullets from a machine gun. When he couldn't, or chose not to, Mummy couldn't tell, his body burst into smoke and flame as it regenerated the damage.

Soon, things turned into a straight slug fest, Rappa’s pain tolerance coming in clutch as well as just how fast and strong his punches were, slowly chipping away at Pyre whose body seemed to burn hotter as he pushed boiling mountain further, trying to wring out every ounce of speed and power he could, smoke near constantly flowing off him as he regenerated from burning his body and from Rappa’s furious blow.

But it was just pain tolerance, and he was up against a foe who, for each hit they took, he simply burned hotter and regenerated. A foe who was also quick to adapt as he caught Rappa's wrist mid-swing, badly burning the man as he twisted it before landing a heavy punch at the man's ribs, his rocket elbow sending his fist crashing hard into the man, both hearing a crack.

Not done, Pyre discarded the old on the man's other hand, using his now free hand's elbow rocket to send his fist flying right toward Rappa's face, clocking the man a little left of his chin. At the same time, Rappa's untouched fist smashed into Pyre's head.

The impacts from both hits had their effects. Pyre was sent onto his side, his legs falling out from under him as he crashed into the dirt. Rappa was knocked senseless for a moment, spinning as he tried to regain his balance. With the momentary pause, the ref and snake could get a better view of the two fighters.

Rappa's shirt was just about gone; there were too many burnt holes and missing pieces to be considered anything less than trash. With it exposing so much of his large, muscular chest, they could see how many burns he had gained, along with cuts and ever-darkening bruises which were varying shades of purple. One of the worst was the gut punch Pyre landed earlier, and his most recent rib shot. When it came to his face, it had been spared the worst, only having a couple of cuts from when Pyre's fists got too close. But his jaw was visibly bruised from that last hit.

Pyre looked to be the worst off. His pant legs were gone, and his sleeve was torn and burned off. He was covered in dirt, but that was just the thing. As he pulled himself to his feet, that was all that was wrong with him. Even after he took that harsh treatment to the end and no doubt had a concussion, his body was almost cloaked in steam and smoke as it was all healed, leaving him in the same condition as he had been when the fight started.

Rappa, if he had been sensible, would have seen that as an issue. But instead, he only grinned at the sight of his opponent being back up, fresh as daisies and ready for more. Despite his list of injuries, he pressed the attack, launching a barrage of punches, each even harder and faster than before, those which Pyre couldn’t evade smashing his arms and chest, leading to the kid spitting out bile and blood darkened by smoke and soot.

But even as Rappa rushed to continue the attack, Pyre proved to be his own beast, as he would remain still while he was down. Instead, after a blow that saw his chest saved, he fully transformed, his organs replaced with magma, reducing the impact of Rappa's strikes while increasing the power behind his own. When Rappa landed another blow, Pyre didn't move, letting the man's fist smash through his scales, deep into his flesh, where Rappa's arm started to burn.

Rappa moved to pull it out but found Pyre gripping his limb, holding it in place as he took a breath. He fed his furnace, increasing his temperate as Rappa's flesh started to cook and burn, turning pink and purple before charred black. With a roar, he brought his other hand down on the side of Pyre's head like a sledgehammer, dazing him and pulling his arm out of the kid's chest, but the damage was done.

From his hands to around the mid-way point of his forearm, his arm was severely burned. When it came to his hand, he could see bone and couldn't even twitch a finger, the nerves along with the muscle having been burned to near ash.

He heard a sound, the snap of a twig, and looked to see Pyre already on the attack, his chest still closing up, his eyes glowing that bright, fiery green. His stone mask gave nothing of his emotions. Seeing he was down a limb, Rappa tracked Pyre’s fist, only to see something in the corner of his vision. Glancing to the side, he instinctively bent backwards, a move which saved his life as the tip of Pyre’s tail shot out where his head had just been.

Defying reason, he sent his weakened, burnt arm right back into Pyre's chest, trying to knock him off balance, to buy himself time to get some distance. Still, it was all for naught as his blow might have had the power, but his damaged fist couldn't stand up to it, shattering on impact. With the nerves gone, Rappa didn't feel it, but he knew.

He had lost.

Pyre lifted his hands above his head, combining them into a double hammer blow before he brought them down on Rappa's head. The blow carried through, sending Rappa's face first into the dirt.

His head was fuzzy, and he couldn't feel…anything, but he was still alive. Something which he knew wouldn't last. A point is proven when Pyre turns him onto his back and sits on his chest. The boy did surprise him once more, leaning in to hug the defeated man.

“It was a good fight," Pyre stated, his voice as soft as it could be in this form.

"Yeah…it was, so finish the job," Rappa grunted, the pain of the fight catching up with him.

Pyre was slow to let go; instead, he just held him tighter. But as Rappa was about to fear, the kid had backed down, he pulled back. On his back, a vent formed and started to suck in air. As he funneled air into his flames and grew hotter, he had but one last thing to say to Rappa.

“May the flames take you, and you find bliss in their embrace.” With that, Rappa knew the flames and then nothing else.

Line Break

And we're back, and we have a full chapter for this week. I didn't trust that Word wouldn't pull some BS. Still, I've been trying to get into the habit of saving my work after every song, as I tend to listen to Spotify as I work, both on this and on assignments or studying. So as this was written, I saved about every 3 to 5 minutes. It didn't crash, and while my computer has issues with charging, when not in a game, it’s easier to track my battery level and ensure it’s charging, so that wasn’t an issue.

Onto the chapter: I was a bit split on things. I did want to write the rematch for Pyre and Rappa, but it couldn’t cover the entire chapter, certainly when I had other things to focus on, so I hope this was something of a compromise.

Line Break

Shit, this was hard to write, both because I went back and forth on Izuku killing, and partly because I needed to handle something which just stretched on, as I did need to leave to shop, but if that had just been the only thing, I would have gotten this done at least an hour earlier. But with the chapter itself, I won’t lie, even though I made the choice that Pyre would honour what Rappa wished for, it was...hard to write him carry it through, almost as hard as making the fight last as long as it did as let’s face it, Pyre was holding back, barely using ranged attacks as if he did, he could have roasted him from a distance.