The battle began with a thunderous clash.
Aurelion moved first, his blade aimed at the Demon King's throat. He was fast—faster than he had ever been. The shards beneath his skin blazed with light, feeding him strength, accelerating his movements.
The Demon King didn't move.
He simply raised his arm, and Aurelion's blade struck his forearm—and stopped. The obsidian armor didn't crack. It didn't even scratch. The blade skidded across the surface, sparks flying, but the armor held.
Aurelion's eyes widened.
The Demon King smiled.
"Did you think it would be that easy?" he asked. "Did you think a few scratches would bring me down?"
He backhanded Aurelion.
Aurelion flew through the air, crashing into a pillar. The impact cracked the stone, sent him tumbling to the ground. He rose quickly, his blade still raised, his jaw tight.
Corrin struck from the left.
His spear drove into the Demon King's side—and bounced off. The tip skidded across the obsidian, leaving a faint scratch. The Demon King didn't even flinch.
"You'll have to try harder than that," he observed.
Corrin tried to pull back. The Demon King caught the spear and snapped it in half.
Corrin stumbled back, his eyes wide.
Kael fired from the right. His pistols hummed with energy, the bolts striking the Demon King's helmet. They cracked the surface, sending fragments flying—but beneath the cracked surface, there was more armor. Darker. Stronger.
The Demon King laughed.
"Impressive," he admitted. "But not nearly enough."
He raised his hand.
A wave of force erupted from his palm, slamming into Kael. The young hunter flew backward, his pistols clattering across the ground. He hit hard, rolled, came up gasping.
Ami moved in from behind.
The Blackstone shifted, forming a blade that curved like a crescent moon. She swung with everything she had—and the blade carved a shallow gash across the Demon King's back.
Ichor dripped from the wound.
The Demon King turned.
His eyes blazed.
"You," he said. "The one who killed my ancient."
Ami raised the Blackstone. "He had it coming."
The Demon King laughed.
"You're brave," he admitted. "But bravery won't save you."
He attacked.
The battle was brutal.
Ami barely blocked. The Demon King's sword came down in a devastating arc, aimed at her skull. She raised the Blackstone—it formed a shield at the last moment, the fragments flowing together into a wall of obsidian.
The impact sent her skidding across the ground. She hit hard, rolled, came up with the Blackstone raised.
"You can't hurt me," the Demon King said. "Your weapons are useless against my armor."
Ami spat blood. "Then we'll find a way."
She attacked again.
The Demon King was relentless.
He moved through their attacks like they were nothing, his sword carving arcs of destruction through the air. Corrin's broken spear was useless. Kael's pistols were empty. Ami's Blackstone was powerful, but the Demon King's armor was stronger.
Only Aurelion could hurt him.
His blade found gaps in the armor, drawing ichor with each strike. He was faster than the others, more precise, more experienced. He knew where to strike.
But even he was struggling.
The Demon King's armor was ancient, forged in the fires of the demon realm. It had survived centuries of war, centuries of battle. It was stronger than anything Aurelion had ever faced.
"Your friends are falling," the Demon King observed. "One by one. Can you hear them screaming?"
Aurelion's jaw tightened. "They're not screaming."
"Not yet."
He attacked.
Aurelion's blade met the Demon King's, the impact sending shockwaves through the battlefield. They clashed again and again, their weapons screaming against each other.
"You're holding back," the Demon King observed. "I can feel it. You're afraid of what you'll become if you stop holding back."
Aurelion pushed. "I'm not holding back."
"Yes, you are." The Demon King's eyes blazed. "You're afraid of becoming me."
Aurelion's blade slipped.
The Demon King's sword carved a deep gash across his chest. Aurelion staggered, blood pouring from the wound.
"You're right," the Demon King said. "You're not holding back. You're just not good enough."
He attacked again.
The battle continued.
Aurelion and the Demon King clashed in the center of the battlefield, their blades a blur of motion. Ami, Corrin, and Kael fought around them, their weapons finding gaps in the Demon King's guard—but barely.
The Demon King's armor was too strong.
Every strike was deflected, every blow absorbed. They were scratching the surface, but they weren't breaking through.
"We need to find a way through!" Ami shouted. "His armor is too strong!"
Aurelion's mind raced. He had been the Demon King. He had worn that armor. He knew its weaknesses.
The joints, he thought. The gaps between the plates. That's where it's vulnerable.
"The joints!" he shouted. "Aim for the joints!"
They attacked.
Corrin found a gap in the Demon King's knee.
His broken spear drove into the joint, piercing through the armor, drawing ichor. The Demon King roared, stumbling back.
Kael found the gap in his shoulder.
His pistols fired, the bolts driving deep into the exposed flesh. The Demon King roared again, his sword swinging wildly.
Ami found the gap in his neck.
The Blackstone shifted, forming a blade that drove into the exposed flesh. The Demon King screamed—a sound of pure fury.
Aurelion found the gap in his chest.
His blade drove into the Demon King's heart.
The Demon King staggered.
His eyes widened. His body flickered. Ichor poured from the wound.
"You..." he breathed. "You..."
Aurelion met his eyes.
"Your armor is strong," he said. "But you're not invincible."
He pulled his blade free.
The Demon King fell to his knees.
The battlefield fell silent.
Aurelion stood over the Demon King, his chest heaving, his blade dripping with ichor. Ami, Corrin, and Kael stood behind him, their weapons raised, their faces grim.
The Demon King looked up at him.
His eyes were flickering, his form unstable.
"You've won," he admitted. "This round."
Aurelion raised his blade. "It's over."
The Demon King laughed—a cold, hollow sound.
"It's never over."
He raised his hand.
The darkness surged forward.
Aurelion raised his blade to block—but the wave of shadow slammed into him like a physical wall, sending him flying across the battlefield. He hit the ground hard, rolled, came up gasping.
Ami was thrown back, the Blackstone skittering across the stone. Corrin and Kael were scattered, their bodies tumbling across the debris-strewn ground.
The Demon King rose.
His wounds were still there, ichor still dripping from the gaps in his armor. But the darkness around him was thickening, swelling, feeding on his rage.
"You think you've won?" he said. "You think a few scratches will stop me?"
He raised his hand.
The darkness surged toward Aurelion, wrapping around his limbs, his chest, his throat. He tried to move—he couldn't. The shadows held him fast, crushing him, suffocating him.
"Watch," the Demon King said. "Watch as I destroy everything you've fought for."
Aurelion's vision swam. The darkness was pressing against him, squeezing the life from his body. He could hear his own heartbeat, slow and ragged, fading with each pulse.
He looked at Ami. She was on the ground, struggling to rise, the Blackstone just out of reach. He looked at Corrin, his spear broken, his shield dented. He looked at Kael, his pistols empty, his body battered.
They were broken.
He was broken.
And the Demon King was just getting started.
"Aurelion!" Ami shouted. "AURELION!"
He couldn't answer. He couldn't breathe.
The Demon King laughed.
"Your friends are calling for you," he said. "Do you hear them? Do you hear their desperation?"
Aurelion's vision darkened.
"No," he rasped. "No."
He reached inside.
The shards beneath his skin blazed with light. The power surged through him—raw, ancient, hungry. He felt the darkness around him crack, the shadows splintering under the force of his will.
He pushed.
The darkness shattered.
Aurelion fell to his knees, gasping, his body trembling. The shards beneath his skin pulsed weakly, their light dimming.
The Demon King's eyes widened.
"Impossible," he breathed. "You're—"
Aurelion rose.
His body was broken. His strength was spent. But he rose.
"I'm not done yet," he said.
He attacked.
The Demon King met him head-on.
Their blades clashed with enough force to shatter stone, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. Aurelion was driven back, his boots carving trenches in the earth.
"You're tiring," the Demon King observed. "Your power is fading."
Aurelion pushed. "So is yours."
The Demon King laughed.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But I have more to give."
He attacked.
The battle continued.
Aurelion and the Demon King clashed again and again, their blades a blur of motion. Ami, Corrin, and Kael tried to join the fight—but the Demon King was too fast, too powerful.
He batted Corrin aside with a wave of his hand. He sent Kael flying with a flick of his wrist. He drove Ami back with a single strike.
"You're alone," the Demon King said. "Your friends are broken. Your power is fading. You can't win."
Aurelion raised his blade. "I don't need to win. I just need to hold you."
"Hold me?" The Demon King laughed. "You can't even hold yourself."
He attacked.
Aurelion was driven back.
His blade met the Demon King's, the impact sending shockwaves through his arms. He stumbled, recovered, attacked again.
But he was losing.
The Demon King was faster, stronger, more powerful. He drove Aurelion back step by step, his sword carving through his defenses.
"You're not fast enough," the Demon King observed. "You're not strong enough. You're not good enough."
Aurelion's blade slipped.
The Demon King's sword carved a deep gash across his chest. He staggered, blood pouring from the wound.
"You're right," the Demon King said. "You're not good enough."
He attacked again.
Aurelion fell.
He hit the ground hard, his blade clattering across the stone. The Demon King stood over him, his sword raised, his eyes blazing.
"Any last words?" he asked.
Aurelion looked up at him.
"yeah" He flipped off the demon king while saying "that i regret, that the last thing I will see, is your ugly face"
The Demon King laughed.
"Fool, you could've been so much more."
He swung.
Ami moved.
She had seen the opening—the moment the Demon King's attention was fixed on Aurelion. She had grabbed the Blackstone, her fingers closing around the staff.
She moved.
The Blackstone shifted, forming a blade that curved like a crescent moon. She swung with everything she had—and the blade carved a deep gash across the Demon King's back.
Ichor sprayed.
The Demon King roared—a sound of pure fury.
He spun, his sword swinging wildly. Ami was driven back, her boots skidding across the stone.
Ami quickly got overwhelmed. The Demon King was faster, stronger, more powerful. He drove her back step by step, his sword carving through her defenses.
She tried to block. The Blackstone shifted—too slow. The Demon King's sword found her shoulder, carving deep.
She stumbled, gasping.
"Pitiful," the Demon King said. "You're no match for me."
Ami spat blood. "Maybe. But I'm still standing."
She attacked.
The Demon King was relentless.
He drove them all back—Aurelion, Ami, Corrin, Kael. They fought with everything they had, but it wasn't enough. He was too powerful.
"You're broken," the Demon King said. "All of you. Broken and defeated."
Aurelion rose.
His body was broken. His strength was spent. But he rose.
"Maybe," he said. "But we're still fighting."