Demise on the way, one of terribleness. Willingness of opposition, hearts soaring once more. Wings of freedom, an abyss of loneliness. A light paving its way, those drowning in despair. Clashing throughout it, resolve feverishly igniting. Riding along the waves, connecting once more. A life once of bliss in her youngest days, her sad actuality. Meeting one of firmament, happiness coming again. Briefness of it, tragedy setting in. Experiences of the past, a way in grasping her deepest desire. Alastor skidding back upon his feet, shaking off the impact. His vision ahead, that maiden on her side. That revolver still aiming at him, her eyes brimming in confidence.

"You are one to talk, father." She faintly smiles.

"Heh, I guess so." He agrees.

An entity born underneath the light of the crimson moon, coming from two of grandness. Those cherishing her, separation of two of closeness. Despair consuming the one remaining, neglect of the one of smallness. Concerning for her safety, distancing himself from her. Giving up Lævateinn, that one never bringing out its potential of fullness in times of yore. Reason in doing so, selfishness leading her way. Softness within, anger breaking free. Facing actuality as herself, playing in this game of chance. A True Devil's Battle between a father and daughter, their hatred for one another slowly dissipating. A chance of victory that Tyrant is seeing, proudness of her efforts. Finally understanding her father's logic, questionability of the past, her admiration of him once more.

Limitation of herself, that one willing in pushing beyond. Grimness of conflicts, rising in meeting the challenge. Embracing the sins inside of her, commanding them as her own. Each in direction to her goal, wanting in reaching her father. Kindness so long ago, his life once whole. Agony entering, losing his way. Stardust trailing along the vastness of the void, crumbling of platforms. Shaking of the endlessness, roaring of the beast. That Tyrant raising his hand, blackness circulating above. That maiden bearing witness to this, weapons of negativity spanning for miles. Uncertainty of her vision, an ability capable of making gods quiver.

"As I said, I am not holding back, Cyra." His eyes of seriousness.

Shattering tips, sorrow of greatness. Sinking into the depths, tides of harshness. Loneliness at the bottom, wandering for so long. That daughter once again confronting him, two clashing throughout. A light finally of actuality, a way in leaving this abyss. Hatred of deepness upon her, those in direction to her. That heart refusing in relenting, pressure of immensity on her. That demon directing his hand towards her, tension rising within her. Innumerable weapons floating above, sweat of coldness running down the side of her face. A misstep not of a possibility, an execution level ability.

"Farewell."

Voice of coldness, chilling it is. Weapons in every direction, spanning for vast distances. Her beating heart, all of them locking onto her. Rapidly rushing towards her, her vision analyzing the attack. Trailing through, that faintest of hope. Shedding her physical form, riding the waves of the surrounding energy. Narrowly slipping through, passing along innumerable, an endless assault. Each becoming faster, precision increasing. Adapting to it, Alastor witnessing this. Continuously evading, impressiveness of it. Those weapons rapidly colliding into the ground, that maiden making her way to her father. Challenges over the years, losses and victory.

Each instance strengthening her, death no more than a means in going forward. Constantly returning, her soul no longer willing in remaining silent. Shouting out, seeking power of grandness. Dangling on the edge, almost losing herself. Oblivion of a possibility, facing actuality as herself. Despair of greatness, holding on, turning the smallest chance into a reality. That approaching halfbreed, Alastor immediately shifting his stance, defensiveness of it. Materializing from above, extending her claw high. Descending upon her father, those two entities of mightiness clashing, impact most devastating. A shockwave tearing through the area, breaking away at the surroundings. Rubble motioning above, vision of determination on the other. Slowly pushing back her father, her state of frenzy, that Tyrant resisting her assaults.

"Tch...!"

Blackness wildly raging, onslaught of her vision. Emotions of highness, feelings setting free. No longer willing in staying silent, a wish of deepness. Passiveness of the past, assertiveness of the present. A heart of softness, that one capable of turning the tiniest of chances into an actuality. Once of fearfulness of what is within, divinity and malevolence of harmony. Eyes meeting with one another, that vision of the Tyrant burning crimson. Instantly vanishing, darkness circling around. That maiden feeling his energy, following into the graveyard of weapons. Making her way further within, that area reacting to his call. Immediately stopping, her widening gaze. That demon from a distance, calmly looking at her. Raising his right hand, strictness of his vision upon her.

"Foolish move, Cyra." He snaps his fingers.

One returning to the field, remaining off of the chessboard for years. Reason in coming forward, power not what it once has been. Rising to the challenge, sorrow of greatness. Connection to the past, truth finally within his hands. Hatred even stronger, a way of punishment. Hope inside of his daughter, that alternative to it all. Time of shortness, a battle of importance. Neither relenting, strongly pressing onward. Negativity circling around her, weapons steadily rising. Attacks slowly closing in, her direction to her father. That demon extending his blade afar, malevolence concentrating all around her, his pressure intensifying by the moment.

"There was only one person that survived this ability, the only one I could not defeat." He confidently states.

"Mother..." Her eyes of realization.

Venturing with her, ascending his influence. Power constantly growing, closeness of the two. Uncertainness within, one more chance against her. Disappointment in her eyes, defeat once again to the demon. Strictness in her tone, tears on display. Finding his answer, assurance in the final test between them. Unleashing that strength once more, either ending of fineness. Immediately closing in on her, that maiden unable in reacting. His blade reaching far, his lower stance. Beating of the heart, that Tyrant fully unveiling his capabilities. Assaulting her with a flurry of attacks, negativity linking with each impact. Intensity locking her body, compression of the devastation. Those numerous weapons colliding into her, an explosion cataclysmically ripping through the void.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Standing there, sorrowfulness of his expression. Wondering of another solution, possibility of a difference in the outcome. Smoke concentrating, malevolence pouring out. Blackness filling the abyss, Alastor witnessing movements. Stepping away, surprising of it. A massive shadowy claw extending from the blackness, grabbing his face. Bursting through, blood soaking her body, darkness steadily repairing her wounds. Finally reaching, two in opposition for years. Similarity of their experiences, a way in ending their conflict. A promise in keeping, agony of grandness upon her. Pleasantry of her earliest times, wanting them again. Slamming him down into the ground, cracking the surrounding tiles.

"Gyah...!"

Standing on her knee, gazing down at her father, gasping for air. Blood pouring out of her, regeneration of greatness. Both in that darkness, a light paving a way. Trying in the past, failure of her results. Resolve of weakness in those times, pushing beyond her limitation. Embracing her selfishness, commanding those sins. Vision of gentleness upon him, a family in shambles. A mother holding it together, everything slipping away. Painfulness over the years, that devil searching for an answer. Distancing himself from his child, fearfulness of his action. Reason in his path, irrationality of it as well.

"You were once a proud Tyrant, and a better father, but look at you now. So consumed in your hatred, that you could not even see, that mother has always been there with us, even when she was gone." She faintly smiles at him.

Grieving of his vision, those words from her. A goddess no longer there, yet continuously remaining. Unable in understanding, their daughter reflecting her. Foolishness of those years, anger constantly eating away at him. Wanting answers, pushing out others. Strictness in raising his child, wrongness of his direction. His settling heart, that transformation fading, dissipating into the void. That long hair of whiteness, blood coating his body. Vision of azure, armor breaking apart. Gazing at the other, their bodies of weakness. A battle of longness, a situation beginning in looking up.

"So...that was what you meant, Reynas..." He weakly smiles.

"Even if she is not there, she is never truly gone..." Cyra releasing his head.

A devil reaching for heights far above his standing, stepping onto the domain of a goddess. Defeat coming, that Tyrant falling. Her hand of guidance reaching out, grabbing hold of his own. Ventures of vastness, differences of clearness. A point of understanding, their growing bond. Challenging her once more, his choice of certainty. Happiness for a bit, sorrow entering his life. Regretfulness in meeting her, that goddess undeserving of her ending. Words branding upon him, that one never truly missing. Darkness leaving the maiden, her arm returning to normalcy. Gazing at her father, his expression of grimness. Confusing it is, enemies no more. Both residing on a plain of similarity, wondering on his problem.

"Cyra..."

Actions over the years, searching for answers. His companion no longer there, losing his way in blackness. Unwillingness in the closeness of others, hatred driving his path. Deepness of pain, giving his demon sword to his child. Emotions feverishly burning, someone trying to silence the goddess. Refusing in allowing her memory in fading, needing solutions. Despising the worlds, the result of his efforts. Turning away his attention, facing his vision up into the void of endlessness. Shaking of it, howling of a beast of terribleness. Intensifying of the pressure, his failure in stepping over the line. Horridness of the past, helplessness in times of yore. Unable in protecting his dearest companion, inability in keeping his family together.

"What is it...?" she props her head in confusion.

"So much time I spent being consumed in my sorrow, that I never realized, your mother's presence has been reflecting through you..." He regretfully speaks.

Days going by, that goddess no longer there. Her presence always remaining, portraying through their daughter. Carrying the reason of her mother, resisting with the irrationality of her father. Both harmonious to one another, a point of connection. Loathing the battlefield, her heart of softness. Capability of turning the nigh impossible into an actuality, passiveness of her inside of the past. Years going by, assertiveness of the present. Hatred of deepness, dangling on the edge. Walking in the blackest of abyss, her vision on the faintest light. A path revealing for her father, willingness in trying once more. Hearing the words of the Tyrant, sorrowfulness of his tone. Remorsefulness of him, those eyes at the end of the darkness, a way in leaving.

"Enduring pain, sorrow. Continuously rising to the challenge, broken you are. You have become so strong, doing what I could never do. I guess...I am proud of you..."

Harshness of the past, horrifying experiences so long ago. Living underneath the tyranny of another, holding onto the smallest of hope. A stifling voice, comfort within her daughter. Unwillingness in withstanding, planning in place. A way towards her freedom, death releasing her. Wings spreading once more, chains not binding the heart. Agony in parting with one of closeness, bliss in the wind. Her daughter following, demise coming to her. Returning below, equivalence of a failure. A thousand years of torture, rising once more. Hearing those words, emotions to her eyes. Impossibility of it until that moment, niceness of it.

"Cyra..." He looks towards her.

Embracing her imperfections, selfish desires guiding her path. Once of fearfulness of what is within, commanding those sins. Divinity and malevolence working together, manifesting blackness. Entering the eighth stage, Pridefulness of her. Wishing in reaching, attempting once more. An entity of greatness approaching, that shaking of the void. Roaring of the beast, two finally able in meeting on grounds of similarity. An abyss shining a light, that Tyrant gazing in the direction. Those eyes of the maiden of confusion on her father, longness since interest in his words. Cruelness of time, two sharing a moment again.

"Be wary of Odin..."

Storming the realm of the heavens, silencing the lives of numerous. Unraveling mysteries of the past, disgustingness of his expression. Sensibility of it, horribleness from one of highness. A devil forging his life, assisting a goddess in her role. Happiness for a bit, one of firmament tearing it apart. Frustrations of deepness, strength no longer of the original. A message to his child, knowledge for herself. Alarming of the situation, wondering on the warning of her father. Naturalness of caution to the gods, specificity in direction to one. That Tyrant carefully noting each instance over the years, finally connecting the image.

"What do you mean?" she questions.

An abomination birthing from two, a point of targeting. Seclusion of her birth, convenience of her presence. One capable of standing against the deities, associating herself as a demon. Smallness of the chances, yet that faintest of hope in existence. Potential inside of her, that power devastatingly unleashing. Growth still of a possibility, that Tyrant seeing this. Slowly inhaling and exhaling, gazing into the void of endlessness again. Knowledge of importance, wishing for another way. That one of highness never ceasing, his daughter able in resisting.

"When you were young...your mother drove him out. Shortly after then, you fell ill. I did years upon years of investigations, it was a forbidden spell, that only exists in the realm of the gods. The only one who would have benefited from your death, and the disarray of our family, was him. He even admitted it..." Alastor distantly explaining.