Deities foretelling their ends, the All-Father acting. Someone stripping away the simple lives from three, steadily setting the chain towards their demise.
A single one remaining, the child from a great demon and another. This individual approaching the surface, her hatred far inside. One born underneath the light of the crimson moon, someone originally loving the worlds.
Fury filling her, her emotions eventually strongly sounding. The intensifying icy mist, the princess closing in on the Magi. Crashing into him, a burst of energy stretching far.
"Anya!" Esther calling out.
Releasing the freezing force, a massive glacier rushing high. The narrowly evading princess, her uneasy vision high in the air. Grand enemies opposing one, their resolves against an entity from old.
One damning countless, selfishly pursuing her direction. Wrapping others in her black warmth, guiding them towards tomorrow. Bethlehem's cold vision on the once supreme deity, twirling his scythe.
An old friend going far, their willingness to put a single person over innumerable. The young woman striking from above, crashing through Indra. A massive inferno spreading in the area, two in its fiery prison.
The Magi on his knee, her claw aiming at him. An individual constantly growing stronger in battle, overpowering opponents, breaking their resolves.
"When will you stop? Will you continue to add another layer of sins on top of your countless ones already?" Indra's sharp vision on her.
"If I stopped now, then everyone's hopes and dreams dies with me. I will carry this burden, and see my path through to its end." Positioning her claw in front of her face, glaring at him.
Her steadily returning memories, these many emotions. Its great weight on her, someone running down her dark road. Numerous with her, shining their light on her direction. Her countless actions, everything towards a single point.
Keeping her eye on her goal, rushing at her foe. Indra immediately extending his hands, a dark void racing forward. Enveloping the maiden in it, binding her in its force. Trying to resist the influence, someone springing their trap.
"You have always been a peculiar demon. Despite your path, which is paved with sins, you continue to give hope onto the hopeless. No matter how far you fall, no matter how many times you break. You always stand back up." Indra rising to his feet.
"I suppose I haven't gone completely numb to the pain. After all, there is light in the deepest of darkness." Her solemn voice.
Her torturous years, enduring constant agony. These experiences slowly making its way to her attention, her efforts over time. Continuously falling, someone getting up stronger than before.
Extending her hand, guiding others forward. This individual steadily returning, the Magi seeing her. The turning war, the Iconoclast's will. Pulling her into the void, the shortly clearing flames.
Bethlehem looking to Indra, both nodding in agreement to the other. Coming closer to their goal, following their resolves. Unease from Valor, the deity facing their direction. Desperately stepping forward, wondering on the maiden's location.
"Cyra!" Valor urgently calling out.
"Valor." Indra's calm voice.
His heavily pounding heart, this worsening night. The young woman's weak state, that god looking from one direction to the next. A void going on, her energy feeling far. His growing frustrations, their plan to separate the few from the start.
Their aim continuously at one, fitting together these pieces. Esther and Anya's vision on their surroundings, unease from them. Enemies luring the maiden further into their game, springing their trap on her.
"Where is she?!" Valor swinging out his arm, glaring at his foes.
"A realm far from our own. There she will face her execution, and you can do nothing to stop it." Indra folding his arms.
"Tch...! We'll see about that!"
Everything to this point, putting everyone's fate into the hands one. A desperate situation, a way to tackle the conflict. Believing in her possibility, someone bringing miracles in her presence.
An old friend wishing for her return, running along her tracks. An icy mist spreading through, the intensifying energy. Valor turning his foot, immediately vanishing.
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Soon descending from above, his katana nearing the god of fire. Bethlehem appearing in front of Indra, both instantly casting simultaneously. The once supreme deity striking down, his disappearing enemies.
Plunging his blade into the ground, the reacting force. Enormous glaciers tearing through the field, reaching high into the void. The god's fist shaking in frustration, shortly facing the stairs leading higher.
"There is only one place she can be, which means...everyone! Onward!" Valor directing his hand ahead.
"Right!" Esther and Anya agreeing.
A dire situation, those few rushing onward. This worsening disk, the young woman's urgent condition. Someone fighting through the night, turning the war in their favor.
An individual bringing miracles, this light in the deepest of darkness. One born underneath the blood moon, her existence of a curse. A life once filling with love, hatred consuming her.
Her soft heart remaining, a devil breaking through her challenges. A realm in between the living and the dead, a familiar gate stretching tall.
Death and decay in the air, the chillingly cold breeze. Massive tombstones along every corner, the numerous deteriorating tiles. Many dying trees all around, never meeting the salvation of demise.
A horrifying place, eternally experiencing sorrow. From within the gate, eternal darkness everywhere. A void without anything, the maiden standing in the blackness. This familiar surrounding, her paining heart.
Rage steadily coming over her, those emotion slowly forming her memories. An individual forever clashing in an endless abyss, two old friends dreadfully parting. A pure light leaving her, spreading far, revealing the secrets in the shadows.
Her gaze on a crystal platform at her feet, this object circling for miles, memories reflecting upon it. Happiness, sadness, hatred, envy, these hazy events. Her agonizing injuries, her great desire to push forward.
"Enjoying this place?" Balthasar's calm voice.
Lowering her head, these emotions flowing through the maiden. Her increasing fury, malice seeping from her body. Those painful days, yet also holding her happiest times. The devil soon looking up, the deities not in sight.
Her calm expression, one from the depths of the abyss steadily rising once more. These feelings, her foggy memories. Running down her dark path, reaching for the slimmest light, wishing to make it into an actuality.
"Balthasar, allow me to guess, Indra and Bethlehem are with you." Folding her arms.
"Sharp as ever Iconoclast, welcome to the Tomb of the Damned. A place resting within the gateway between our worlds, this is where you shall meet your end." Bethlehem's placid voice.
"There is no escape from here, only endless despair." Indra's mild tone.
Her vision on the many memories around her, their unclear images. Her dreadful heart, wishing to fly free. A person refusing to run any longer, her willingness to tackle her problems again.
Closing in on her deepest desire, carrying the weight of those in her past. An entity coming closer into reality with each passing hour, her powerfully sounding soul.
Her gaze on a flowery field in the night, a memory reflecting two old friends walking away from the other. A blood moon high, her distant eyes on it.
Her route to go forward, these brewing sentiments within her. Shifting her attention above, witnessing the distorting space, those three enemies appearing before the Bringer of Demise.
"You may have relied on your allies to cover your injuries, but this time you are by yourself. With your demise, there will be no one left. Not even that fool Valor can stand against us, Asgard will reach a new golden age." Balthasar expanding his arms.
A devil long ago rising against the gods, an individual holding infinite potential. The All-Father taking someone precious, despair consuming another, a spreading chain of madness.
The maiden's birth underneath a crimson light, the moon eternally bleeding red in her presence. A deity destroying the happy lives of three, numerous years going by, that one in the heavens learning true terror.
No matter the morrow, no matter the sorrow, a demon taking on the hatred of the worlds. Running after her deepest desire, finally grasping it, yet her wish not in reality.
Time going by, the Magi's coming into power. Their wish to hold the worlds in their palms, one standing in their way. The young woman's hand on her waist, calmly looking at her foes.
"A new golden age huh. I chose to become the enemy, not only for my own desires. Though, for everyone to be able to craft their own tomorrow. If you wish to repeat those tragedies, then I will scar my emotions into the worlds once more." Slightly looking away, glaring at them.
Her strongly extending feelings, a devil clashing against countless. Extending her hand to many, wrapping them in her black warmth. Her boiling hatred, the young woman's displeasure for the battlefield, her eternally burning will.
The Magi's eyes on her, their growing unease. One from the deepest shadows moving towards actuality, striking fear into innumerable. Her great injuries, these not stopping her advance.
That will to oppose taking hold, a demon reaching for the smallest chance. Her old determination, those eyes crumbling the resolve of her enemies.
"Balthasar, Bethlehem, Indra...—" her vision on her claw, soon turning her attention back to them.
"—come at me with everything you can muster. You are not just fighting me, but everyone at once!" swinging out her talon.
Her powerful message, those trembling foes. Their eyes on the many around her, numerous from her past. Her family, Kain, Rick, Martha, Emily. The Seraph behind her, her old friend at her side.
Esther and Anya on her other end, these purely swirling sentiments. Richter alongside his Cerberus, these two standing there. Raphael, Lucia, both wishing to give aid.
Countless from old, their stern gaze on the Magi's. Each vanishing, their energies flowing into the maiden's body. Someone carrying their will, their high faith in her.
The Iconoclast, one embracing her imperfections and selfish desires, becoming corruption itself. Constantly tackling her challenges, shining her light onto the paths of many.
For a long time I believed I was alone, I did everything on my own. Though, that is not true. Those many people I met, they have provided a hand to me. And so, I will take it, and carry their resolves. This hatred within me, it will see its way towards its desired end.