Darkness of deepness, despair clawing away at the soul. Pain excruciating upon the body, fatigue setting in. Hopeless the situation is, that smallest of chance slipping away. That young woman moving further and further into the blackness all around. Agony far inside, sorrow plaguing the heart. One unable to resist, fading away by the moment. Those many scenarios playing throughout her mind, each and every step of the way, Surtr besting her. Fire lashing out, a place of beauty becoming a horror. That image branding upon her, resistance decreasing.
Cyra.
A voice penetrating the depths of her mind, familiar it is. Uncertainty inside of the maiden, one wishing to embrace this despair. Pain of greatness, experiences tormenting her. That mysterious one, Cyra unable to identify them. Resolve in shambles, that will to continue on slipping away with each passing second. A life of torment, that smallest of joy coming in an adventure. Two desiring for it to continue on, enlightening of this frightening blackness. Sadness slowly going away, that agony within her finding some relief.
Cyra.
That voice calling out once again, softness of it. That young woman reacting to the mysterious one, her eyes slowly opening. Blackness of the void all around her, those eyes of the demon struggling in remaining awake. A heart in bondage, a soul seeking release. Experiences of the past, one carrying the blood of a great demon. Events so long ago lining a way for misfortune, a moment of bliss coming in such turmoil. No matter so, one desiring to rest. Difficult it is, continuing to resist, that minuscule chance setting ablaze. Her eyes steadily closing, that maiden indecisive on her path going forward.
Cyra!
That voice much more urgent, the softness of it going away. Strict it may even be, those crimson eyes of the maiden immediately opening. Her heart racing within her chest, familiar the voice is. That sound shaking her back to awareness, the young woman looking above. A pure white light shining deep within the abyss, a chilling breeze settling the pain upon her body. Cold it may be, but also warm. Glancing back, arms wrapping around her. An image she cannot identify, but this embrace enlightening her.
"Who...are you...?" she weakly questions.
"There is still much for you to do, do not relent." The voice softly speaks.
"Heh...I wish I can keep fighting, but I have reached my limit..." She responds.
"Are you really going to give up? After you have finally made your decision?" that voice seriously questions.
Those eyes of the maiden slightly widening, wondering on this mysterious person. Familiar they are, emotions so long ago taking hold of her. Difficult it is in pinpointing, a parental tone. One making her decision, a devil willing to oppose what is reason. Two meeting in days of the past, one from high above, the other walking the land. Different they may have been, but bliss coming. Only turmoil before that day, joy being of a reality. Time of cruelty, yet one does not have to play into its game. Companions so close, souls wishing to soar with one another.
"This once, I will release the power hidden deep inside of you. Keep fighting, Cyra..."
A comforting voice, that young woman resting her vision onward, a chilling sensation becoming a soothing warmth. That light slowly enveloping her, strength returning to her. Surtr turning to the maiden, something being amiss. Closely fixating his vision, witnessing pure white energy burning from her body. An immense pressure crushing down on the god of fire, a mysterious energy resonating from far within the demon. Malevolence deeply pulsing inside of her, Surtr stepping away, watching her body rising. Lævateinn crying out, negative energy spiraling around both it and the young woman. Slowly inhaling and exhaling, Cyra making her way towards the god. That deity taking caution, something changing within her. Difference of her, his fists intensely burning. That heat of the arena increasing in its severity, raging fire wildly burning a dark azure.
"Even if you are a god, I will overcome you." She calmly speaks.
"Is that so, then we will see." He responds a bit more seriously.
Rushing at her, vanishing from the area. That maiden feeling his presence all around, Cyra calmly standing in place. Glancing to her right, slightly pulling back her body. That fist of the deity passing her face, Surtr materializing. Those eyes of the deity slightly widening, turning his attention towards her, witnessing her cold glare. That devil rendering her palm into his rib, devastating the impact is upon him. Wind leaving the body of the god, Surtr stepping away, catching his breath. Holding his rib, that deity looking towards her.
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"What...are you...?" he uneasily frowns.
One treading in the deepest of abyss, holding onto the smallest of hope. A deity this one may be, but her heart refusing to give in. One making her decision, pursuing her desires. Pain excruciating upon her, yet that will to oppose feverishly burning. Fire spreading throughout the village, those villagers witnessing this development. That Elven unable to believe his eyes, someone capable of rising to the challenge. Facing the god, extending her blade. Her eyes piercing deep into his core, malevolence intensely radiating from her, clashing against the flames all around.
"Hard to say really, but it does not matter. You have little time remaining." She calmly speaks.
Her words inviting anger, his body immensely burning. Cyra calmly resting her vision onward, witnessing the god bursting into flames. That young woman trailing the fire, seeing it rushing around her. Those flames closing in by the moment, those villagers at an unrest. Fire nearing her, Cyra swiftly sweeping her blade off of the ground, shattering the surrounding area. Those flames dispersing, Surtr materializing, that young woman appearing before him, glaring into his eyes. Her blade approaching, that god immediately clashing against it.
Intense the impact is, ripping through the area. That arena of fire tearing away, the Elven taking a step forward. His eyes trembling, bearing witness to the young woman clashing with the god of fire. Circling the other, each assault more heavy than the last. Leaping back, Cyra evading an uppercut. Lava piercing from the land, that maiden resting her eyes onward, witnessing it extending high into the sky. Surtr emerging out of the fire, his fist colliding into her weapon. Both of those mighty entities pushing against each other, refusing to give in.
"Persistent as your father, it is unimaginable that there is another that can rival my own power." He hatefully states.
A devil rising to the challenge, blood in relation to another. Agony on the body, that will to continue on. A heart loathing the battlefield, yet this no less within reason. Two mighty beings meeting, one opposing a god, the other extending their influence. Standing silent, that maiden glaring into his eyes. Pulling away from the god of fire, stress great upon her. Malevolence discharging, wildly running. Everyone witnessing this, that darkness surrounding her. Negativity crashing into her body, pain excruciating on her.
"Gyah...!!" Cyra stepping back.
Pain of deepness upon her, Lævateinn lowering to the ground. Malevolence wildly escaping her body, that demon sword struggling in maintaining it. Her body weakening with each passing moment, distressing this situation is on her. Deep inside of the young woman, a sinister presence trying to claw its way to the top. Fearsome fangs, hands extending in many directions. A heart resisting this influence, heavy her body is feeling. One pushing far beyond her limitation, a price truly taxing upon her. That sword crying out, unable in doing much.
"Ah, I see now. Demonization, you are struggling to maintain that forbidden power. It looks like you have reached your limit, devil." He smiles in certainty.
Demonization, a state in gaining great power, in exchange for a massive cost. Uneasiness gripping at her, Cyra holding Lævateinn with both hands, struggling in holding it up. That sword dragging against the ground, the young woman feeling short of breath. Her body slowly giving out, yet that will to resist remaining. That Elven bearing witness to this, uncertain of a way going forward. That fire bathing the village, those inhabitants losing hope once more. Their lives of interruption, one capable of standing against a deity. No matter so, that demon quickly reaching her limit.
"Cyra..." The Elven speaks in concern.
Gasping for air, her vision blurring by the moment. Malevolence running wild, that pressure striking down at her. Lævateinn trying to contain it, that weapon crying out. Even if the chances are minuscule at best, that one willing to oppose. Much like another, Surtr bearing witness to this. One reaching for heights far above her standing, pushing her body to the brink of destruction. Devils evermore resilient in battle, most of weakness. No matter so, a few capable of reaching for the nigh impossible.
"Alastor is already bad enough as it is, I cannot allow another to exist, farewell." Surtr rushing at the maiden.
That deity of fire approaching, the young woman mustering her remaining strength. Cyra clashing against the fist of the god, that devastating impact. Skidding back upon her feet, steam rising from the surrounding area. Her vision slowly giving out with each passing moment, that god continuing his assault. An onslaught of attacks, that maiden narrowly blocking each one. Her stamina quickly depleting, that maiden stepping back. Staking her blade into the ground, barely able in holding her footing. That devil gasping for air, her vision trying to focus on Surtr, blurring even more.
"Cyra!" the Elven calling out, taking a step forward.
From within the forest, Valor quickly rushing, feeling her energy slipping with each passing moment. Bodies piling around, an icy mist spreading through. Gripping his katana, slowly unsheathing it with his thumb. Those eyes of desperation, his heart pounding inside of his chest. Animals fleeing, the rustling of the leaves all around. Surtr cracking his knuckles, fire intensifying around him. That maiden fixating her vision upon the god, her energy dropping by the second. A gamble it has been, her limitation at hand.
"This is your final chance. Submit and join, or perish." Surtr daringly speaks.
"I rather choose death than to be a puppet." She retorts.
"Hmph, then farewell..."
Flames intensifying, that heat stinging against her. Those eyes of the maiden trembling, witnessing fire enveloping the god. Flames slowly surrounding her, blazing heat tearing away at her. Lævateinn desperately resisting, a weapon going far in opposing. One once of grandness, yet embracing a more passive existence. That will to continue on, the devil grasping for any sort of chance. Even if it is the smallest it can be, then that being more than enough. A heart rising to the challenge, a soul yearning to soar. No matter the morrow, even if it is but a somber one, it is never truly hopeless.