Night filling the sky, serenity of its presence. Wind of iciness, blades of grass flowing along. Two of the past, companions of nearness. Enormous power inside of a devil, one despising it. Holding the demon sword Lævateinn, one once of greatness. Shakiness of it, her heart of softness. Learning the blade from her father, this unsettling her. An option not of her choice, a realm of lawlessness. That Tyrant no longer the one of yore, her continuous failures in reaching him. Potential inside of her, infinite in mystery of it. Turning away from her companion, clenching her hand to her chest, unease from her eyes.
"Power is the fine dividing line between life and death. Do not fear it, Cyra." Valor gently speaks.
Cruelness of the information, truth within it. Those ruling over countless, their influence of vastness. Tides of war, strength in prevailing. Each having their own way in going forward, their will measuring from force. Frightening no less to one of passiveness, yet unnecessary of it. Words ringing through her, moving onward, embracing not fearing it. A dividing factor between life and death, breathing of importance, those willing in surviving. Numerous possessing it, refusal in using potentially leading to one's destruction. Misfortune to many, a point of testing.
"But...whenever I use it...I..." She doubtfully looks away.
Fearfulness of deepness, energies constantly clashing. Divinity and blackness both of her actuality, her vision of the bleeding moon. Proceeding through battle, continuously learning. Adapting, those innumerable emotions. Rage from her disgust, empathy for those that are no more. Illness of feelings gripping at her core, an influence of uncertainty clawing its way from the blackest of abyss. Energies clashing against one another, revealing something else. Placing a hand upon her shoulder, that maiden resting her vision upon him. Those eyes of her old friend, some ease coming to her, one always there for her. Sentiments of similarity, that deity of invaluableness.
"I know...you feel like you are losing a bit more of yourself. Though, always remember. Power without reason is pointless. Were those not your words?"
"Right...those were my words..." Her eyes slightly widening.
A message of her own, one constantly carrying the ideal of reasonability. Uncertainness on the rationality, warmness of it. Loathing the battlefield, proceeding with logicality. A purpose in taking up her sword, in unleashing what is secluding at her depths. Horribleness from some of her experiences, that maiden holding onto the faintest of hope. Brandishing her blade, opposing her enemies. Irrationality of the chances, rationality of the purpose. Triviality of a possibility, meaningfulness no less of importance.
"Then do not hesitate, fear will only hasten your demise." He faintly smiles at her.
Blackness of the soul, emotions lingering at her depths. Painfulness over the years, agony forever tormenting. Selfishness guiding her path, that heart of softness willing in resisting. Lowering her head, malevolence steadily consuming her. That Tyrant bearing witness to this, darkness grasping the maiden. Alastor closely looking onward, that demon concentrating it. Malice circulating around her, moving to her right arm. Overflowing malevolence, that Tyrant feeling his own merging with her. An entity from the deepest of abyss steadily awakening, murals depicting a legend. Loneliness of darkness, agony of greatness. Resolve feverishly igniting, a soul shouting out.
"The Trial of Pride...keep pushing..." Unease from him.
Unwillingness in relenting, stinging deep within. A promise in holding onto, that light paving its way. Times of yore, unable in reaching her father. Distantness from him, meeting one of firmament. Happiness coming, despair shortly setting in. Seeking experiences of pleasantry again, opposing the reason of another. Malevolence ripping away at her arm, slowly motioning it to her father's blade. Pulsing radiating deep inside of her, a life desperately maintaining itself. Endlessness of darkness from her depths, floating in that void, malice raging all around her. Slowly opening her vision, demonic creatures bearing their fangs. Steadily looking around, forces binding her in place.
Fangs growing closer, her eyes upon them. Gazing within it, sins manifesting an abomination. Gluttony, Wrath, Envy, Lust, and Greed. Those trials, that young woman condemning them to this. Stripping them of their freedom, locking them away at her depths. Barely using their power, fearing it. Fading hope, blackness all around her. Fiends yearning in devouring her, her movements in restraint. Her vision fixating even closer, resting it towards the back. A light of dimness, remembering those words. Light existing in the deepest of darkness, a message of valuableness. Focusing on that hope, extending her arm forward. Fangs coming closer, that mouth of the fiend opening around her arm. Continuously reaching for that light, watching it shining brighter by the moment.
"These are my desires..." She speaks more confidently.
Dangling on the edge of nothingness, a heart feverishly resisting. Memories most tormenting, blackness in those times. Agony upon the body, continuously holding onto those words. A child of her only solace, wishing for a life of betterment for her. Failure of the result, a thousand years of torture. Awakening once more, no longer willing in staying silent. Wanting in righting her wrong, desiring her happiest days more than anything. Passing trials, opposing the gods. Confronting her father once more, rising to the challenge once again. That light radiating brighter, intensifying by the moment. Those abominations loudly screeching, pulling away from her. Floating straight, facing those fiends surrounding her, her eyes of sternness upon them.
"No matter how far I fall into despair, I will never forget who I am. Now...you devils, will all serve me! That is an order!" she swings out her right hand.
One on the verge of death, sinking into the depths of her mind. Sins trying to consume her, that maiden refusing in relenting. Her heart rising once more, commandingness of her voice. Instilling fear into those fiends, imposing control over them. Malevolence wildly spiraling around her arm, monsters slowly backing away. Feeling her crushing pressure, demons cowering in fear. Those eyes of the halfbreed opening, surprise from the Tyrant. Seeing her gripping his blade, witnessing her arm rapidly expanding. Malevolence in physical form, a massive, shadowy claw of a dragon. Emanating blackness from her body, eyes of seriousness, pulsing of her arm. One from the depths emerging, elevating to an even higher standing. Born from two of mightiness, selfishness of her path.
Her soft heart, facing actuality as herself. Willingness in staining her soul, each in direction of her deepest desire. Wanting times of yore, her happiest days. A promise in keeping, meeting the challenge at hand. That devil unable in holding his weapon still, looking into the eyes of his daughter. Her gaze, one in similarity to her mother. Confidence exhibiting from her, a chill running down his spine. Comparison of the past and herself of presentness, hearts parallel to one another. Yet both in direction of the same, one of virtue, the other of malice. Hatred guiding her way, maintaining herself within. Pushing onward, seeking the nigh impossible.
Her vision on her father, determination brimming from her. Slowly removing the sword from her chest, blood gushing out, spilling along the floor. Releasing his weapon, stepping back, energy of purity surrounding her. Standing on her side, directing her claw at him. One harnessing both malevolence and divinity, opening infinite possibilities. Unwillingness of the past in risking demonization, reason in doing so. That Tyrant closing his eyes, her staggering pressure crushing down on him. Impressiveness of it, uncertainty if it is enough in defeating Ultima. A final test at hand, everything within her palms once more. Surpassing him of importance, hope of littleness within it. Another waiting for him, that demon wishing in seeing this battle through. Opening his eyes, calmly resting his vision upon her.
"Come Cyra, this is your last chance." Alastor directing his blade at her.
Shaking of the void, howling of the threat. The Day of Ruin steadily approaching, those residing at the depths. Each having their own reason in pushing forward, hearts riding in this game of chance that is life. A realm of lawlessness, those on the brink of annihilation. Numerous more within the crossfire, gods direction towards one. Waves of emotions shrouding the surroundings, time feeling slow the the young woman. That exertion of her father's energy increasing, baffling it is. One truly deserving of the title, 'Invincible Tyrant'. Extending her claw afar, locking onto her father ahead. Darkness emanating from her body, purity dancing along with it. Her entire formation changing, that Tyrant noting it.
Her stance of openness, difficulty in identifying exploitable weaknesses. Power of pureness of certainty, that maiden ascending once again. One once at the top, falling to the depths. Struggling at the core, clawing her way back up. Dashing towards her father, scraping the ground beneath her. That Tyrant bracing himself, an endless amount of malevolence coming at him. Unnerving it is, quickly shaking away those feelings. Closing his stance, vertically aiming his blade downward, guarding himself. Striking at him, crashing her arm into his weapon. A powerful impact, shockwaves breaking through. Stepping back, noticing her shifting once again. One not pulling away, continuing her assaults in a state of berserk. Constantly blocking her attacks, that maiden forcing onward, each attack becoming heavier and precise by the second.
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"The State of Pride...I see now, you are using the rest of the sins to amplify your own power..." His beating chest.
Stages towards ruin, one dangling on the edge, coming even closer. Embracing the State of Pride, manifesting the sins to her advantage. Amplifying her power, unleashing her rage in a continuous frenzy. Never leaving despair, incomparable agony. Confronting her father once more, wanting in reaching him. Meeting him at the bottom of the abyss, a light shining its path. Her claw rushing at him, that demon evading to his side. Moving past him, an opening to the Tyrant's awareness. Raising his blade, something of strangeness, that maiden not immediately reacting. A ruse of a possibility, a truly frightening foe. Enemies constantly taking caution to her, that Tyrant understanding this. Riskiness of the situation, dashing away from her. Catching her footing, instantly turning to her father.
"I see now, that power, you were already in the phases of awakening to this..." Alastor sharply keeping his eyes on her.
Embracing her selfishness, desires leading her path. Times of the past, grasping the power of demonization. Dangerousness of it, her sanity on the line. Unraveling potential of greatness, clashing against the god of fire. One capable of shaking the resolve of those of highness, her birth from two of grandness. An abomination on the worlds, one wielding divinity and malevolence. Fearfulness of it, unsettling emotions in times of yore. No longer willing in enduring, that soul crying out, shouting towards innumerable. Placing her hand upon her waist, eyes of calmness on her father. A mysterious power coming to her aid, understanding this better. That voice of the past, warmness from it. One constantly there, looking over her. Raising her claw to her view, distantly gazing upon it.
"It is amazing how quickly you adapted to this, perhaps all you needed was an extra push." He calmly speaks.
"More like a shove off a cliff." She sarcastically comments.
Chuckling at her response, one of naturalness. A father of strictness, falling into the blackness of his heart. Those eyes of the young woman upon him, her lightening expression. A moment in seeing that one of admiration from so long ago, a chance of existence. Faintly smiling, extending her claw once more. Shaking of the void, intensity of it. An entity of powerfulness descending, two meeting on the battlefield. Hearts dancing in the tides of harshness, resisting its reason. Trailing along the light at the bottom, both bringing their best. Resting his vision onward, uncertainty on the battle ahead. His abilities of greatness, a change towards his daughter.
One continuously rising to her challenges, reaching for heights far above her standing. Reflection of himself, a devil once doing the same. Gods once fearing him, those entities quivering at the presence of his daughter. A hybrid harnessing purity and malice, the results from two of closeness. That maiden stepping forward, darkness bleeding from her body. Instantly vanishing, Alastor feeling her energy all around him. Difficulty in identifying her location, that demon relying on instincts. Turning to his left, her lower stance. Her claw nearing him, closing his position. Vertically blocking, her arm crashing into his weapon, a shockwave intensely ripping through the void.
"The longer she fights...the more powerful she becomes. Before it was amazing, this time it is indescribable..." His eyes trembling a bit.
"Not bad! But not good enough!" he renders the palm of his hand into her chest, a powerful burst of energy striking at her.
"Gyah...!"
Skidding back on her feet, her vision on her father. Quickly shaking off the impact, her eyes ahead. That Tyrant in front of her, raising his blade, hesitation not within his gaze. Striking down at her, that halfbreed meeting his action in kind. Colliding her claw into his blade once again, pressing against his pressure. Hearts once basking in the bliss of the wind, sorrow entering into their lives. Blackness of the realms, incomparable agony. One attempting in clawing her way out, the other sinking further. Continuously finding herself at the base, confronting her father once more. A light now in existence, that path clearly trailing. Her unrelenting resolve, that will in opposing.
Extending her off hand, Alastor tracking her movement. His vision slightly widening, Lævateinn reacting to her call. That object lifting off of the ground, rubble descending. Hastily flying towards her, that maiden grabbing hold of the weapon. Her moment of clarity, motioning the scythe to the head of the Tyrant. Releasing his blade, that weapon underneath her grip. Slightly moving away, the scythe narrowly missing him. Instantly striking again with the demon sword, one without resting. Closing in the distance, those eyes visualizing a path going forward.
Her weapon descending, that demon dashing away. Lævateinn striking the ground, rendering the platform ahead of her asunder. Realms approaching ruin, experiences of yore leading her onward. A heart wishing in seeing this through to an ending, the wheel of fate motioning. None able in predicting the outcome, two of greatness in opposition. Understanding of the other, both behaving irrationally. Yet within it, reason existing. Her vision forward, witnessing her father extending his hand in her direction. His weapon resisting her hold, releasing from her grab. Flying in his direction, that Tyrant moving his hand afar, catching it by the hilt.
"She's learning, and fast." He uneasily thinks.
"What is the matter? Getting cold feet?" she turns to her side, looking at her father.
One correcting her mistakes, growing stronger through battle. Impacts of devastation, pressure of immensity. Malevolence and divinity dancing around her, both harmonious to one another. Embracing her selfishness, manifesting her power in blackness. A heart of softness, one wishing for strength within the past. Torment never leaving, grasping at the faintest light. Fearfulness of what is within, awakening years later. Finishing trials, drawing closer to completion. The eighth stage of Pride, the sixth of her test. Only one in existence capable of giving him much trouble, that maiden reminding him of her mother even more. Proudness he is feeling, one making use of her final gift.
"Heh, perhaps so." He faintly smiles.
Stardust trailing the void of endlessness, shaking intensifying. Roaring of a beast of greatness, both having a conflict in settling. Smallness of hope in the hands of his child, the Day of Ruin steadily approaching. Fault in direction to her, her existence of the triggering point. One never ceasing, continuously returning to the living. Seeking her deepest desire, yearning for times of yore. Wanting in righting her wrong, an idea of where her daughter is residing. A battle steadily progressing, unrelenting resolve from them both. Alastor bearing witness to another development, a shadowy clone of herself from behind her. Alarming it is, that doppelgänger walking to her side. Extending their claw towards him, one not only amplifying her strength by using the sins, but also calling upon their powers as her own.
"Our eternal conflict ends here, father." Calmness from her.
"Indeed." He agrees.
An entity stepping on plains of dangerousness, commanding the sins as her own. Emotions of deepness, feelings flowing free. Hearts of the same, parallel to one another. Direction leading to the one of the present, that young woman trying to grasp the nigh impossible. Grimness of the coming conflict, ascending her power in meeting the challenge of currentness. A father still strongly persisting, a True Devil's Battle between them. Cyra and her double moving onward, illusions within their steps. That doppelgänger appearing in a lower stance, his vision on the shadowy claw approaching him. His senses of keenness, that maiden of nearness. Negativity bursting from his body, that intensity stopping the double, revealing Cyra from above. Descending upon him, those eyes meeting with one another. Slightly moving away, avoiding her impact.
That maiden landing in front of him, continuing her assault with the doppelgänger. A state of frenzy, infinite in mystery of it. One not tiring, a berserker on the field. That Tyrant constantly evading, his movements becoming faster by the moment. Analyzing for an opening, any possibility of importance. Tracking her movements, her claw passing his head, rib, chest. An opportunity presenting itself, his vision locking on. Slightly turning his head, her claw narrowly passing him. Slipping behind her, that maiden trailing his action. That demon upon his side, stabbing through the double. Darkness leaving it, that entity fading into blackness. Scraping of the ground, sparks flying. His attention in her direction, ducking from the assault. That scythe barely passing his head, her vision of steadiness. Moving towards her, bypassing her defenses. Rendering his elbow into her stomach, a shockwave ripping through.
"Tch...!"
Impact of heaviness, resistance of greatness. Those seeking what is within, rising far above their station. Dangling on the edge of nothingness, blackness of the soul. A voice stifling within, shouting to all. A threat of grandness approaching, that shaking of the void. Immensity of their pressure, hearts wanting in finishing a conflict of the past. A promise to her mother, walking that path of loneliness. A light shining in the presence of her father, a way for him in leaving. No matter of her difficulties, that possibility in reaching. Her scythe vanishing into the darkness, recklessness no less. Her enemy gaining an opening, unsurprising of it, her father of sharpness.
"You leave yourself too open Cyra!"
Building on the situation, crashing his foot into her rib. Her widening vision, that assault sending her flying across the field. Hitting the ground, skidding along. Pushing down, sparks streaming across. Flipping onto her feet, touching down on the land, slowly moving back a bit. That Tyrant's vision on her, witnessing malevolence thickening around her, burning into purity. Limitation not within her, a most horrifying state. An opponent continuously on the offense, defending through those means. Conflict never ending, experiences branding upon her. The Tower of Eternity revealing events of yore, her will in holding true to her word.
A heart once giving in, leaving her father in the shadows. Understanding of his grief, those of similarity. The Day of Ruin steadily approaching, echoing of the void. Difference of the young woman, yet similarly reflecting from the past. Carrying the resolve of her mother, that irrationality of her father. An abomination upon the worlds, this not mattering. Charging at the other once again, clashing throughout the area. Forces of intensity, rubble flying in every direction. Shockwaves ripping through, that Tyrant rushing his blade to her head. That maiden homing in, rendering her knee into his stomach.
"Tch...!"
Collision of heaviness, a force of powerfulness tearing through the void. Dreams of fleetingness, a realm of lawlessness. Infinite in mystery of it, a day of meaningfulness. An adventure of pleasantry, joyfulness for a bit. That night of dreadfulness coming, wind constantly within her mind. Unforgiving of her father, suffering throughout the years. Wishing in trying again, her will feverishly igniting. Alastor resisting the assault, that maiden directing her revolver at him. Vision locking onto her moment, firing a burst of negativity. That attack crushing against him, hitting his chest, violently exploding.
"Gyah...!"