That moon of highness, one cursing those within its path. A devil born underneath its light, tragedy setting in for countless years. A heart loathing the battlefield, emotions resisting what is reason. That young woman rising to the many challenges, carving her own way forward. A bond between two in days of yore, one from above, the other walking the land. Experiences of simpleness, those times driving her way forward. Lowering her blade, standing from the rock. That deity holding the side of his head, his eye twitching in disbelief. Even so, this being of her requirement. From high up, Zain descending, that master landing at the side of Valor. Inspecting the damage of the area, rubble scattering around. Spikes of ice from the ground, those enemies enduring the harshest of cold.

"Apologies for the wait. From here, we make our way into the fourth layer, which has a wall blocking the city." Zain explaining.

"Ya know, this kinda reminds me of the past. A bunch of misfits tackling a larger power." Valor smiling.

"I have to agree there." Cyra faintly smiling, facing ahead.

Two of differing worlds, a bond forming over the passing time. Those of differences, power insignificant to the gods. Lives in the hands of one, a voice strongly extending. Hearts filling with hope, that will to resist what is reason. Countless falling, souls eternally opposing. A war ever so large, many coming to the aid of a certain one. No matter how small the chance may be, an entity willing in rising to the challenge. Familiarity of these experiences, both dreadful and pleasureful. Continuing onward, making their way through those enemies, finding their way on the fourth layer. That wall surrounding the city, blood soaking the ground. Numerous enemies reaching for the battle ahead, unrest within the night, determination in the eyes of many. Blood rising from the land, spears forming for miles. Weapons surrounding the three, their vision fixating onward. Those of the Blood Sect cornering the trio, spears directing at their foes.

"Damn..." Zain uneasily states.

Hope fading by the moment, Valor slowly unsheathing his katana. That young woman calmly resting her eyes onward, an agreement not in fulfillment. Even so, one willing in stepping beyond such. Howling echoing through the night, everyone turning their attention above. An iguana in tights, their cape flowing in the wind. Descending from the wall, sliding down. That animal landing below, standing upon his hind-legs, smugly smiling. A chance of smallness, one arriving in a time of need, Zain uncertain on the meaning of this.

"See?! I told you a hero iguana exists!" Valor pointing at him, turning to Cyra.

"Fernandez, what are you even doing here?" that devil covering her face with her right hand.

"Pfft, that ain't Fernandez." The god nodding in disbelief.

That animal leaping high into the air, their claw intensely burning fire. Those spears locking onto him, rushing at the animal. Descending below, striking down at the center. Flames rushing out, crashing against those foes and their weapons, screaming echoing through. Fire spreading across the land, pressure immensely crushing at the enemies. The iguana raising to his hind-legs, walking onward. Standing in front of Zain, Valor, and Cyra. That animal turning to his side, pointing in the direction ahead. Those of the Blood Sect glancing to one another, slowly returning their eyes forward. Fernandez slightly looking away, barking at them. His voice becoming louder, mightily spreading his stance.

"He did it! He said the line!" Valor shaking Cyra in excitement.

"Great, maybe you should get his autograph..." The young woman's eye twitching a bit.

"Well then...I am not complaining here..." Zain uneasily smiling.

In a time of need, one rising from the shadows. Hope of faintness, an unlikely ally coming into play. Surreal this situation is, none able in rationalizing what is happening. Even so, those of the past coming into reality. Hearts connecting through a realm alternate to their own, a rebellion having a chance of success. Zain, Valor, and Fernandez glancing to the other, nodding in agreement. Fire burning from the body of the animal, his cape blowing in the wind. Flames spreading through, that iguana charging forward. Those of the Blood Sect racing onward, blades of blood following their path. Crashing into the foes ahead, a powerful force pushing back the enemies.

Zain raising his hands, lightning descending from above, colliding into the many approaching weapons. Valor plunging his katana into the ground, mist of iciness spreading through. That area freezing over, glaciers piercing the ground, entombing countless inside of its prison. Standing from the land, facing away, sheathing his blade. Shattering ice, enemies incapable of fighting. Blood sinking into the soil, death washing over numerous. Valor running up to Fernandez, holding a picture of the animal. The iguana grasping it, reaching into his back pocket, taking out a red sharpie. Biting the top, removing the cap. The animal signing the picture, soon handing it back to the deity. All the while, Zain scratching the back of his head. Valor racing to his old friend, shoving it in front of her face, pointing at the name.

"Yes Valor, I am glad you finally had the chance to get his signature." Cyra sighing.

"Congratulations, but we should really continue on now." Zain faintly smiling.

Blissful emotions, happiness in times of sorrow. Small the chances may be, yet that will to oppose continuously extending. Enemies possessing frightening capabilities, yet those resisting the shackles binding them. Wings soaring high, souls reaching for the sky. No matter the morrow, there is always a way towards a brighter tomorrow. Moving onward, scaling the massive wall, entering into the fifth layer. A city voiding of inhabitants, many possibly evacuating. Wind at an unrest, two mighty forces floating at the center. Men in crimson and black, both standing against the threat at hand. Zain walking onward, folding his arms.

"Cyra, you go on ahead, we will deal with these two gods." The master seriously speaks.

Glancing in the direction to her friends, each nodding towards her. Hope resting in the hands of one, a devil once again stepping onto the battlefield. That young woman loathing it, even so, Cyra willing to take up arms. Pleasure in these smaller experiences, love existing for the many worlds. Determination in the vast, countless seeking eternity. An action ever so small, one going a long way. Adjusting her footing, dashing onward. Friends and enemies witnessing her vanishing, that young woman appearing far below, her crimson eyes upon the final layer. Those two enemies racing after her, allies blocking their way. Zain, Valor, and Fernandez each passing on their hopes and dreams to the young woman.

"Apologies, but this is the end of the line." Valor folding his arms.

"Now then, shall we start?" Zain faintly smiling.

Fernandez standing on his side, pointing at the two. Those deities looking to one another, wondering if this might be a joke. Returning their attention to the three, energies of crimson and darkness flowing through. Glancing in the direction of her comrades, Cyra cracking a smile. A bunch of misfits they may be, but those differences uniting them. Turning her attention onward, stairways leading higher to the temple. Ascending those heights, her heart once again meeting the challenge at hand. No matter the trouble, even if it shall mean more enemies, then that is okay. Entering into the temple, fire lighting the path to the throne. Cyrus rising from his seat, those eyes of the blood moon meeting with the raging sea. His vision scanning her, a level of one.

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"This has to be a joke, do not tell me so many fell to this pitiful level." Cyrus folding his arms.

"Cyrus, answer me. Why are you invading the Nature Sect?" she questions more seriously.

"Why else? Land, they are a wasted bunch. I can better use it to expand my own power, we seek the true path to eternity." He explains.

Reasons of naturalness, selfishness serving none other than their own. Disgusting it is, the lengths she has gone to uniting others through her own means. Always something beneficial to another, yet those wishing for suffering. Hatred boiling at her depths, unforgivable it is. Lævateinn secreting malevolence, the weapon loudly crying out. Reviver meeting its action in kind, energies dancing in harmony. Extending the blade afar, those eyes of hers locking onto her opponent. Cyrus gripping the blade at his waist, unsheathing it in an instant. Powerful waves of fire, wind, and earth racing towards the young woman. Striking upward, splitting the assaults in half. Flames scorching the room, wind intensifying it, earth damaging the walls.

"Did her level just raise? No, it is at one..." He carefully thinks.

"Blood Sect huh, immortal or not, all will bow to me." Cyra calmly speaks.

Emotions at a high, unrest within the air. Hearts rapidly beating, those willing in grabbing hold of their desires. Selfishness driving the way, feelings reaching for the sky. Those seeking eternity, trampling on the lives of many. Crying of those that are no more, suffering never ceasing. Voices echoing through her, one wishing to bring meaning to their end. Cyrus carefully observing her, taking notice to an unfamiliar state. One of calmness, level so low. Power most surprising, an opponent filling with mystery. Sliding his foot along the ground, bursting through the field. Those waves of energy flowing around, flames closing in upon the young woman. Striking with her demon sword, a shockwave intensely piercing the area.

"No...I was not hallucinating. Small bursts of energy, raising her level in an instant, only to deplete it..." Cyrus thinking, his expression slightly stern.

Two meeting on the battlefield, one filling with mystery, the other high above the standing of countless. Fire sweeping through, wind intensifying it, earth piercing the land. Clashing against the elements, the young woman moving around the room. Cyrus pursuing her, those three elements rushing down at her. Eyes of crimson visualizing a way onward, her enemy nearing by the moment. Striking at the center, that god pushing against her weapon. Elements of fire, wind, and earth colliding into her. Powerful exertions of energy, Cyra flying across the room, crashing through a pillar. Pieces falling to the ground, her emotions steadily rising. Standing from the land, Cyrus observing her state. Another shift, mild she is. Those eyes slightly more serious, her level raising to three. One concealing her abilities, this no less in awareness to the deity.

"Why do you hide your power? It was no fluke those of Nature making it this far." He stakes his blade into the ground.

"Unlike yourself, I loathe the battlefield." She calmly states.

Years of conflict, one despising violence. A heart shackling to the land, power sealing away. Torment within the past, one incapable of screaming out. Desperation coming at hand, an action setting the way towards her freedom. A devil bringing demise in the wake of her despair, ascending to heights far above her own. That deepest desire coming into reality, a life of bliss once more. Confusing this is to the god ahead of her, wondering on the reason for fighting in such a case. Removing his sword from the land, stepping forward in her direction.

"Then why do you fight?" Cyrus questions.

"Even in the deepest of darkness, there is a light. Those hopes and dreams of countless, I carry their will..." She responds.

Words of the past, feelings holding true. Sorrow in days of yore, light existing in the deepest of darkness. A devil holding onto the smallest of hope, enduring the most painful of experiences. Time going by, that one breaking free of her bondage, walking in the farthest of abyss. No matter so, carrying the hopes and dreams of many. Selfish she may be, but those emotions reaching numerous. One desiring an end to this, agony gripping at her once more. Her state shifting again, agitating it is. Cyrus bearing witness to this, her level rising to that of four.

Stomping down on the ground, rubble flying in the air. That god stepping away, witnessing her bursting through the room. That weapon closing in, crashing against his own. His body shaking, those eyes of the sea refusing to relent. Skin tearing, blood streaming down his face. Those drops rising into the air, needles formulating. Weapons directing at the young woman, firing at her. Pulling away, blocking the assault. Slicing her cheeks, deflecting from her gauntlets and her sword. That heart rising to the challenge, annoyance growing within her. One despising battle, wishing for an end to it. Another shifting in her state, her level rising to five.

"I wonder where the Nature Sect found you, impressive really." Cyrus aiming his blade onward.

Blood dripping to the ground, that deity rushing onward. His blade scraping along the land, Cyra meeting his action in kind. Clashing within a circular motioning, strikes heavier than the last. Blood spilling on the ground, fire circling around. Wind descending from above, earth rising from below. Spears of blood directing in her direction, that god dashing away, standing by his throne. His blade directing at her, those assaults locking her in. Once more, her state changing. A never ending conflict, anger flowing to the surface. That level raising to seven, frustration coming over Cyrus. That deity unleashing the attacks, Cyra striking down at the center. Explosions ripping through, dashing out of the smoke. That god appearing in front of her, grabbing her head, slamming her down into the ground. Those tiles cracking beneath his feet, the devil continuously resisting.

"Why is it that you continue to oppose me?" he coldly questions.

"Why you ask? Fool." She solemnly responds.

Those eyes of crimson piercing down his core, enragement at his ignorance. Gripping his wrist, crushing down on it. Excruciating pain upon the deity, seeing her rising to her feet. Her level raising once more, that young woman standing at level nine. Those willing to oppose, all for a chance to grasp their own life. Emotions of normalcy, a point of relation. Countless with power unable in understanding this, creating turmoil around every end. Rendering her knee into his stomach, knocking the wind out of the god. Releasing his wrist, Cyrus stepping away, agonizingly holding his stomach. Those eyes of the sea resting upon her, witnessing malevolence secreting from her body. One embracing her imperfections and selfish desires, becoming corruption itself. Her ascending level, power becoming unscalable. That god slightly trembling, his heart pounding inside of his chest.

"Tyrant's Awakening...? What are you...?" he carefully questions.

"I am the embodiment of corruption, that is all you need to know." Her voice cold upon him.

Raising Lævateinn, darkness wildly raging from it. Plunging the weapon down into the ground, waves of malevolence crashing through the room. That building violently shaking, land erupting. Walls tearing down, the ceiling caving in. The god bearing witness to this, a burst of energy powerfully sweeping the area. From afar, Zain, Valor, and Fernandez standing on top of a building. Those two deities on another, everyone facing in the direction. An explosion ripping through, the temple reducing to ruin. Zain and those gods stepping forward, feeling a most terrifying presence.

"Oh no...Zain, we have to wrap this up fast, and get everyone far away from this island..." Valor warning.

"You are saying she is that powerful...?" his trembling voice.

"Yeah, she will hold back, but there is no telling of how far the damage will go." Valor seriously explaining.

A count down to ruin, treading within the farthest of abyss. Power unimaginable, a resolve feverishly igniting. Light existing inside of the deepest of darkness, emotions clawing to the surface. Feelings lashing out, corruption ensuing. One embracing her imperfections and selfish desires, that entity constantly rising to the challenge. Smoke settling, those two mighty beings clashing against one another. Malevolence tearing away at the land, that demon sword crying out. Cyrus dashing away, blood floating around him. Darkness concentrating around Lævateinn, a sword continuously evolving. A weapon reaching through blackness, the back coating in scales of malice, steel bleeding red. One that is both a sword and a scythe, reaping the sins of the worlds. Cyrus bearing witness to this development, stopping from a distance. Sweat running down the side of his face, aiming his hand forward.