An entity's displeasure for the battlefield, her deepest desire within pushing her onward. Her willingness to go after it, these growing feelings inside of her.

Skrymir piercing the lake, nearing her by the moment. Extending her fist, crashing it against his own. A powerful shockwave tearing through, shaking the area.

The deity hitting her arm aside, closing in the distance. His many assaults rushing in, passing through an afterimage.

A heart living in a terrible realm, enduring its cruelty everyday. Her eventual meeting with one from the heavens, a devil grasping freedom for a bit. Wanting those days again, her wish towards it.

Skrymir shifting his vision behind, seeing her materialize. Extending her hand, darkness concentrating in the space. Calling the demon sword Lævateinn to her, shortly gripping its hilt.

Immediately lunging at her foe, crashing it against his wrists. This immense force to him, scowling at her. Both breaking away, instantly ascending above the lake.

A weapon with her from her oldest days, a sword evolving to meet its challenge. Its loyalty to her, continuously protecting her.

Working with its limits, refusing to fall to its enemies. The approaching enemy, shortly vanishing in an instant.

The god appearing at her side, his fist crashing against her face. Hitting her towards the earth, the demon colliding into it, heavily damaging the surroundings.

Great pain on her, blood streaming down her head, her armor slowly breaking apart. Steadily rising to her feet, her shoulder protection descending to the land. A crack in the chest area, pieces from her helmet falling.

Desperately catching her breath, this enemy continuously becoming more powerful. An individual drawing her more into the battlefield, these ill sentiments within her. Walking down her dark path, her eyes on the slim light.

Reaching for it, wanting what is within. Skrymir immediately moving in front of her, rendering his fist into her stomach. Raising her high, the devil's trembling vision.

"Hmph, to think you are the offspring of the Demon Tyrant! Pitiful!"

Slamming her into the ground, immediately crashing his foot into her. The young woman flying into the air, her enemy instantly appearing above her.

Colliding a fierce punch, sending her into the side of a hill. Her armor breaking apart, her helmet falling in pieces below.

Blood streaming down her face, her weak vision to her nearing foe. The deity rendering his fist into her stomach, this immense force on her. Her blurring vision, lowering her head.

Skrymir shortly ascending into the air, the temperature becoming colder. The land tearing apart, everywhere violently shaking, the Tyrant of Ice glaring down at her.

"So, this is all the one of legend can do. Laughable really..." Shaking his head in disappointment.

Cyra falling forward a bit, her closing eyes. Her slowly breaking will, these swirling sentiments within her. From the end of the mountain, Fernandez and Levi weakly looking around.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Many scattering animals, their great fear. The immensely vibrating land, their home going away. Not far from there, Hel assisting Envy to his feet. His heavy injuries, concern from the goddess.

On the peak of the mountain, Valor weakly looking ahead. Forcing himself to his feet, trying to catch his breath, his blurry vision.

"C—Cyra...come on...you have come back from a lot worse...!" his desperate voice, gripping his upper arm.

A dire situation, a foe moving towards his goal. Everyone watching the madness, putting their faith in the demon. Someone able to perform miracles, an individual surpassing countless challenges.

Skrymir looking down at the devil, his intensifying icy energy. The violently shaking area, the ground breaking apart. Trees collapsing, animals fleeing for the lives.

"I suppose the legend is merely that. Know Iconoclast...the worlds will become a prison of ice. My rule will stand, and I will determine the fate of every being in the Nine Worlds..."

Carrying his shame for years, a Tyrant long ago stripping away his goal. An image still to his mind, his reason for proceeding. Needing to surpass Alastor's child, a deity running towards his desire.

The hillside breaking apart, that young woman falling below. Hitting some objects, soon lying face down on the ground. Desperately trying to act, her mind on the words from the enemy above.

"Pathetic. However, take solace in knowing, your demise will pave the way to my reign. All those in connection to yourself will be silenced." His serious voice.

Her efforts over her years, extending a guiding hand to many. Forming a simple life, proceeding down her path towards her deepest desire. Great injuries on her, these frustrating feelings in her. Spirits around her, four from her past.

Kain, Rick, Emily, and Martha. Their voices to her, trying to get her to rise. Sinking into blackness, the young woman floating there. Her vision on her family, shortly shifting it to the Seraph.

"Cyra, remember, you are never alone. Do not let him stop you here. After all, you are close to your deepest desire, and everyone has helped you to get here." Her gentle vision on the demon.

Those echoing words, someone nearing her most important wish. Everyone aiding her towards it, many putting their hope in her. Her vision around her, seeing them.

Shining their light, setting a gleaming road. The devil touching down, her hand to her chest. Her serious vision ahead, running down the path, reaching for the light at the end of this nightmare.

Opening her eyes, malice burning from her body. Her intensifying darkness, her vision on the dying animals everywhere.

"What is this...?" Skrymir closely looking at her.

"No...not yet..." Her cold voice.

A soft heart in a terrible actuality, someone once filling with love. Eventually losing everything, living in torment for years. Her low trust in others for a long time, forcing against her obstacles.

Proceeding as herself, extending a warm hand to countless. These valuable people reaching into the darkness, pulling her to the surface. Slowly rising to her feet, her head below.

Her thickening blackness, this force changing into a pure light, an individual's power crushing everywhere. Her pressure shaking the land, water rising high.

Ridges ascending, tornados raging. The god's trembling gaze, shortly shifting his attention to her demon sword. A weapon a distance away, the blade crying out to her.

The devil's vision above, their eyes meeting with their foe's. A person running down her path, yearning for her deepest wish.

Refusing to remain silent, her will from old revealing into reality. Malice thickening around her right arm, darkness tearing away at it. Her wildly flowing negative energy, her screaming sentiments.

Its massively expanding form, shortly unveiling out of the darkness. An enormous demonic shadowy claw of a dragon, its pulsing veins. Bearing her fangs, glaring at her enemy, someone pushing towards tomorrow.

"She has changed...I see now. This is the power I wanted to see, the power of the Iconoclast!" expanding his arms.

An entity from old, this great being returning to the surface. Her displeasure for the battlefield, yet her immense desire to claim what is within. Someone selfishly pushing forward, feverishly seeking out what is inside.

Raising his arm, the maiden appearing in front of him, gripping his wrist. Her eyes flashing gold, her hair glowing black, both soon returning to their normal color. These swelling sentiments within her, a demon yearning for what is within.

"Here you are, never knowing when to stop. When will you wake up and see? That there are those who wishes for peace?" her stern vision on him.