The flying creatures swarmed toward Mark with terrifying speed, their wings slicing through the air like razor-sharp blades. Their eerie squeaks echoed in the darkened sky as they launched a relentless assault. Mark barely managed to raise his shield in time, but the creatures were relentless, cutting through his defenses and leaving deep gashes in his skin. They attacked in waves, some perching on him, their claws digging into his flesh, others pecking, biting, and tearing at his body. Blood streamed down his arms as he crossed them in front of his face, trying to protect himself from the onslaught. All the while, the two massive demons loomed closer, their footsteps shaking the ground.

But Mark wasn't finished yet. With a roar of defiance, he unleashed a devastating blast from his eyes, his heat vision slicing through the hordes of winged creatures. The beam tore through them, vaporizing some instantly while others were left maimed, scattering in panic. Before the survivors could regroup, Mark exhaled a powerful gust of cold breath, freezing several mid-flight. They plummeted to the ground, shattering like glass on impact.

Simultaneously, Mark's heat vision expanded, setting others ablaze, their charred bodies dropping like burnt-out embers. He harnessed his pressure manipulation next, creating a crushing force that caused the creatures to explode in gruesome bursts, their blood raining down from the sky alongside their shattered remains.

Some tried to flee, but Mark pursued them relentlessly. He ripped apart their wings with ease, snapping their necks and tearing off heads in a savage display of strength. His heat vision sliced through their stomachs, and he tore them in half with brute force, leaving the sky drenched in blood and the earth littered with their remains.

As the last of the winged creatures fell, Mark, now covered in their blood and gore, turned his attention to the two massive demons approaching. The air was thick with the stench of death, but Mark’s resolve was unshaken. He prepared himself for the next phase of the battle, his eyes blazing with determination as he confronted the towering beasts.

Mark launched himself at the demons with blinding speed, his fist colliding with the first demon in a devastating blow that sent the monstrous creature staggering backward, crashing to the ground with earth-shaking force. Without pausing, Mark turned his attention to the second demon, his fist meeting the demon's massive axe in a bone-rattling clash. The shockwave from their impact rippled through the battlefield, forcing Tekno Witch, still hovering above and conserving her strength, to shield herself from the blast.

The force of the collision was so intense that it cracked the demon’s enchanted axe, a weapon infused with demonic magic. Both Mark and the demon were momentarily thrown back, but they quickly regained their footing and charged at each other once more. The demon swung its massive axe at Mark with all its might, but Mark skillfully evaded the strike, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two. Just as he was about to land a powerful punch, the second demon, having recovered from its earlier fall, blindsided Mark with a crushing blow.

The demon's massive fist struck Mark like a meteor, slamming him into the ground with a force that sent shockwaves through the battlefield. The ground quaked and split open, creating a massive crater where Mark had fallen. Before he could recover, the first demon descended upon him, delivering a barrage of punishing blows with its colossal fists. Each punch drove Mark deeper into the earth, the sheer force of the assault creating a chasm beneath him.

When the relentless pounding finally ceased, Mark lay unconscious at the bottom of the massive hole, his body battered and broken. His once invincible form now appeared fragile and tiny in the middle of the crater. The two demons loomed over him, their towering figures casting long shadows across the devastated battleground.

One of the demons reached down, grasping Mark’s limp body with its massive hand. Holding him up by the left hand, the demon brought Mark closer, examining him with its cruel, sharp fingers, as if savoring its victory. The demon’s grotesque face twisted into a mocking sneer, its eyes burning with malevolent satisfaction as it stared at the helpless hero in its grasp.

As Mark lay unconscious in the demon’s grip, his battered body barely clinging to life, his mind drifted into a place of light. Memories of his loved ones flashed before him, a montage of faces and moments that tugged at his heart. In the midst of this radiant landscape, a figure emerged from the blinding light. Mark’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the familiar face—it was his father, who had passed away long ago.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Mark rushed to embrace his father, tears streaming down his cheeks. The brilliant light around them gently transitioned, and they found themselves in their home on Earth, a place filled with warmth and love. His father, Tony, looked at Mark with a reassuring smile, holding him close.

"I’m so sorry, Dad," Mark choked out, his voice thick with grief and regret. "I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to save you. I’m sorry for every harsh word... I didn’t realize how much you meant to me."

Mark’s tears fell freely as he poured out his heart, the weight of his past failures and guilt crushing him. But before he could say more, his father’s voice interrupted him, calm and full of wisdom.

"It’s not your fault, kiddo," Tony said softly, wiping away Mark’s tears. "You don’t have to let the past hold you back. You’re stronger than you think, Mark—both physically and mentally. You’re a hero, and it’s not your time yet. The world still needs you. Your friends, your loved ones—they need you."

Tony’s words filled Mark with a renewed sense of purpose. The light around them grew brighter, illuminating the love and encouragement that had always been there, even in the darkest of times.

"You’re fighting for the right cause," Tony continued. "You’ve got something worth fighting for. You are the chosen one, Mark. The world needs Tetraman."

With those final words, Tony’s apparition began to fade, but not before giving Mark one last embrace, filled with all the love and strength he had ever known. As the vision dissolved, Mark’s consciousness returned to his battered body. His eyes snapped open, just in time to see a massive demon’s axe hurtling toward him.

Reacting with newfound determination, Mark unleashed an intense blast of cold breath on the incoming axe. The air around the blade froze instantly, halting the axe’s deadly momentum just inches from Mark’s face. The demon wielding the weapon was caught in the freezing blast as well, its massive form turning into an icy statue.

The other demon, still holding Mark in its grip, was stunned by the sudden turn of events. But before it could react, Mark’s eyes blazed with heat vision, slicing through the demon’s hand that held him captive. The severed limb fell away, and the demon roared in excruciating pain.

With lightning speed, Mark freed himself and charged straight at the demon. He thrust himself through its forehead, the impact so powerful that it shattered the demon’s skull, sending shards of bone and brain matter flying. As Mark burst out the other side, he grabbed the demon’s enormous skull and, with a mighty pull, ripped out half its skeleton from the body down to its waist. The demon’s remains dangled grotesquely before collapsing lifeless to the ground.

Without hesitation, Mark turned his attention to the frozen demon. He flew through it with such force that its icy form shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering across the battlefield like broken glass. Mark, now covered in the blood and remains of his enemies, stood victorious, his heart filled with the resolve to continue the fight—not just for himself, but for everyone who needed him.

Tekno Witch watched from midair as Mark triumphed over her demonic minions. The rage within her boiled to an unbearable intensity, her eyes locking onto Mark with a gaze that could have burned through steel. With a furious scream, she channeled every ounce of her power, drawing on the energies of the universe itself. The very fabric of reality around them seemed to warp and bend as she absorbed both positive and negative forces, life energy, and cosmic power into herself, becoming a conduit of destructive might.

Mark felt the environment shift dramatically, sensing the dark energy swirling around Tekno Witch as the world around them dimmed and trembled. The atmosphere crackled with untold power as she gathered her strength for a final, all-consuming attack. They charged at each other, their movements a blur of immense speed, and when their forearms clashed, the shockwave of their collision cracked the very reality of the universe, shattering it like fragile glass.

Tekno Witch's fierce gaze burned into Mark, her hatred palpable, her body straining under the weight of the power she had taken in, her form rapidly aging with every moment. "Why won't you just die for peace to reign, Tetraman?" she spat, her voice trembling with fury and pain.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Lora," Mark responded, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "Please, end this madness before you destroy everything—including yourself."

But Tekno Witch was beyond reasoning. "If it means you dying in the end, then so be it, Mark McCoy," she snarled, breaking free from their clash to launch into a fierce battle.

The skies above erupted with blinding flashes of energy, bolts of lightning streaking through the heavens as resounding thunder shook the dying planet. The universe itself seemed to be unraveling—meteors and asteroids rained down, celestial bodies falling apart in the distance. As they fought, the air became toxic, the stars themselves erupting in cataclysmic explosions, sending shockwaves of destruction across the crumbling world.

Mark fought valiantly, but as the battle raged on, Tekno Witch’s power began to take its toll. Her body, already strained from the vast energies she had consumed, weakened further. Just as she raised her hand to deliver a final, fatal strike, her strength faltered, and she began to collapse in midair. Mark caught her before she could fall, gently holding her as they descended to the ruined ground below.

Tekno Witch’s body rapidly aged before his eyes, her form disintegrating as she struggled to hold herself together. Mark looked at her with pity, uncertain of how to save her from the fate she had brought upon herself.

In her final moments, Tekno Witch mustered the last of her strength. "You… never tried to kill me, despite everything," she whispered, her voice weak and filled with a mix of sorrow and bitterness. "But if I can’t kill you, then I’ll send you to a place where you’ll wish you had."

With her last breath, she placed a trembling hand on Mark's cheek, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and vengeance. As her body faded into nothingness, the universe around them began to erase itself from existence. But before the end, Tekno Witch used the last of her power to teleport Mark away.

The world vanished into oblivion, and Mark found himself engulfed in darkness. When his senses returned, he was no longer on the crumbling planet, nor in the remains of the dying universe. Instead, he stood in a desolate, fiery landscape—Hell itself. Tekno Witch’s final act had condemned him to the underworld, her parting gift a cruel twist of fate that left Mark facing a new and terrifying challenge.

In the depths of Hell, Mark found himself in a landscape that defied comprehension. Hell was an endless dimension of torment, its fiery and twisted expanses stretching infinitely in all directions. The very air seemed to seethe with suffering, filled with the cries of the tormented souls whose punishment knew no end. Each layer of Hell was more harrowing than the last, a relentless assault on the senses and spirit.

In some regions, the darkness was so absolute that it devoured light entirely, a void deeper than any earthly night. Some layers shimmered like a sea of glass, reflecting light like crystal. Other areas were frigid beyond imagination, freezing the damned in a cycle of death and resurrection as their bodies shattered and reformed, only to endure the agony again. Some layers blazed with an intensity that surpassed the hottest stars, their scorching heat fueled by countless suns, while others resembled a perverse mockery of paradise—a deceptive, temporary respite for the ignorant souls who believed redemption might still be within reach.

As Mark stood on the cracked, molten ground, he could feel the searing heat of Hell licking at his skin, its oppressive magic gnawing at his invulnerability. The atmosphere around him was thick with the stench of sulfur and despair, the wails of the damned echoing through the air. The demons of Hell, monstrous and grotesque, surrounded him in countless numbers, their twisted forms eager to claim his soul as a prize.

Mark's skin began to blister and burn under the relentless heat, each breath becoming a painful struggle as Hell's magic bore down on him, weakening him. But he would not fall without a fight. His determination flared within him like a beacon of light in this dark, forsaken place.

As the demons closed in, their eyes glowing with malice, Mark steeled himself for the battle. With a mighty roar, he clapped his hands together, unleashing a thunderous shockwave. The force of the thunderclap radiated outwards, tearing through the air and ground, sending a shockwave that exploded the demons around him into a rain of blood and flesh. The impact shook the very foundations of Hell, the shockwave ripping through the demonic hordes, reducing them to nothing more than scattered remains.

But the onslaught was far from over. The demons that survived the blast regrouped, snarling and screeching as they circled him, their eyes filled with hunger and hatred. Mark knew that this was only the beginning of his trial in Hell. The endless hordes of demons and the unforgiving environment would test every ounce of his strength, willpower, and resolve. Yet, deep within him, the words of his father echoed—a reminder that he was Tetraman, a hero who still had a purpose, even in this place of eternal suffering.

With renewed determination, Mark prepared to face the next wave of demons, knowing that his battle in Hell was far from over.

***

As more demons surged toward Mark, he fought with a relentless fury. His heat vision cut through the demonic ranks like a blade through paper, scorching and disintegrating anything in its path. With a blast of his cold breath, he froze several demons solid, shattering them into icy shards. His wind breath was a force of nature, tearing demons apart, ripping flesh from bone, and sending the weaker ones flying back into the inferno.

But the battle was brutal, and Hell’s relentless assault began to take its toll. Demonic weapons pierced Mark’s flesh, stabbing deep into his abdomen, the pain searing through him like fire. Yet, even as blood flowed from his wounds, he continued to fight. His hands tore through demonic bodies, ripping them in half with sheer brute force, decapitating others with quick, precise strikes.

In a final, desperate move, Mark launched himself into the air, his body a blur of motion. He plummeted back to the ground with a devastating punch, the impact creating a massive shockwave that scattered the demons like leaves in a storm. As the wave of destruction spread, Mark darted through the air with blinding speed, his fists and heat vision mercilessly tearing apart the remaining demons. The air was filled with the sound of tearing flesh and the rain of dismembered bodies as Mark slaughtered the legion.

For a moment, there was silence on the battlefield, the ground littered with the remains of the fallen. But before Mark could catch his breath, the ground beneath him trembled. Emerging from the shadows was a massive, scarlet beast—a monstrous dog-like creature with three heads, each one snarling and snapping, its eyes burning with malice. Riding atop the beast was a powerful demoness, her skin a deep crimson, her eyes glowing with dark magic. In her hand, she held a trident that pulsed with malevolent energy.

This was no ordinary demon—this was the commander of the legions Mark had just decimated. Her presence was overwhelming, the air around her crackling with dark power. She gazed down at Mark with a mixture of disdain and fury, her grip tightening on the trident.

"You’ve fought well, Tetraman," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "But your strength will not save you here. In my domain, I am the master, and you will fall like all the others before you."

Mark’s body ached with the pain of his injuries, but his spirit remained unbroken. He squared his shoulders, preparing for the next round of battle, his eyes locking onto the demoness. This was the true test, and he knew that defeating her would be his only chance to survive the horrors of Hell. The beast beneath her snarled, its three heads snapping in anticipation as the demoness raised her trident, dark energy swirling around its tips.

The battle for his very soul was about to begin.

***

Buer's presence was as imposing as her words. Her mockery of Mark's human half struck deep, but it only fueled his determination. Even as she spoke with authority, a slight tone of admiration crept into her voice. She recognized the unique power that Mark wielded—an extraordinary force that allowed him to stand against her legions despite lacking the holy or unholy magic that defined the realms of Heaven and Hell.

As she introduced herself, Buer took pride in her command over hundreds of thousands of demons, a position she had earned through ruthless strength and cunning. Her knowledge of Mark’s potential—his strength comparable to that of the greatest archangels and possibly enhanced by the Curtechyian force energy—showed that she was not underestimating him. But Mark, weary and worn from battle, simply wanted to go home.

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Buer's laughter echoed through the infernal realm, a cruel sound that only highlighted her power. Her taunt about Mark’s desire to return home was quickly followed by a proposition that sent a shiver through him. If he could impress her in combat, she would grant his request; if not, his soul would belong to her for eternity. It was a devil's bargain, but Mark had no choice. Before the fight could begin, Buer made an unexpected move. With a wave of her trident, she unleashed a surge of power that bathed Mark in an intense light, brighter than the sun itself.

The light was revitalizing, coursing through Mark's body and healing his wounds, renewing his strength. He felt as if he had been reborn, every fiber of his being infused with power. The sensation was overwhelming, almost intoxicating, and it brought him back to full strength in an instant.

"Why would you do that?" Mark questioned, his voice filled with a mix of suspicion and confusion.

Buer's grin was sinister as she replied, "To test your limits and fight you at your best. It’s not fair to fight you in your weakened state. While most demons and devils would exploit that, I find it disgusting and dishonorable. Combat should be fought with both sides at their strongest, and I have no intention of winning without honor."

Her words carried a twisted sense of pride, a warrior’s code that demanded a fair fight, even if it was with an enemy. This was a battle she wanted to enjoy, to relish in the challenge of defeating a fully powered Tetraman.

"So try not to make me regret this, Tetraman," Buer added, her eyes gleaming with dark excitement as she leaped down from her massive beast. She landed gracefully on the ground, the earth cracking beneath her feet from the force of her descent.

Mark braced himself, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation. This was the fight of his life, and there would be no second chances. As Buer unleashed a violent dust devil, Mark was immediately forced on the defensive. The force of the swirling wind was immense, whipping at his body and sending him skidding backward. He planted his feet firmly into the ground, cracking the earth beneath him as he struggled to maintain his stance against the onslaught.

The dust devil roared around him, its power threatening to tear him apart, but Mark held firm. His renewed strength allowed him to withstand the force, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Buer through the storm. This was no ordinary demon—she was a warrior with a code, a creature of immense power who sought a true challenge. And Mark was determined to give her one.

With a surge of energy, Mark summoned his power, ready to unleash his own devastating counterattack. The battle had only just begun, and both knew that only one would emerge victorious.

***

As the dust devil faded, Mark barely had a moment to catch his breath before Buer, moving with blinding speed, struck him with her trident. The impact was brutal, sending him hurtling through the air. Before he could even process what had happened, Buer was upon him again, teleporting midair to unleash a relentless flurry of attacks. Each blow landed with crushing force, her strikes more ferocious and powerful than the last. She moved so quickly that Mark could hardly react, his defenses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of her assault. The final blow sent him crashing into a lava mountain, shattering it on impact. The intense heat and cold from the lava surged around him, searing his skin and freezing his blood simultaneously, adding to his torment.

Struggling to recover, Mark barely had time to regain his footing before Buer was on him again. She delivered a swift, deadly kick to his face, the force twisting his neck with a sickening snap. The shockwave from her kick reverberated across the layers of Hell, shaking the very foundations of the infernal realm. Buer remained suspended in midair, her foot still pressed against Mark's face, a deadly smirk playing across her lips as she reveled in her dominance.

Despite the immense pain, Mark's resilience shone through. He forced his twisted, broken neck to snap back into place, the struggle apparent as Buer’s foot remained firmly planted on his face. With a surge of strength, Mark grabbed her foot with all his might, yanking her from midair and tossing her aside with incredible force. However, Buer effortlessly landed on the ground, maintaining her perfect stance as if the attack had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"You are not half bad for a Tetronian," Buer taunted, her voice laced with a mix of mockery and admiration. She charged at Mark again, her speed blinding, but this time, Mark was ready. He narrowly avoided her incoming assault, and with the brief opening he found, he delivered a powerful punch to her ribs. The impact was so intense that it cracked her ribs, stunning her momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, Mark followed up with an uppercut that sent Buer flying into the air before crashing to the ground.

Buer quickly recovered, wiping blood from her broken nose. She stared at the blood on her hand for a moment before tasting it, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "I barely remember what extreme pain feels like after the war in Heaven that led to our banishment here in Hell. Truly, you are a worthy opponent, but I sense you’re holding back. There’s more to what you can offer in this fight."

Her words carried both praise and provocation, and with renewed determination, they charged at each other once more. Their battle was a clash of titans, each blow echoing through Hell with resounding force. The sheer power behind their attacks devastated their surroundings, reducing entire landscapes to rubble and ash. Hell's various layers, from the frozen wastelands to the desolate, fiery plains, bore witness to the titanic struggle between Mark and Buer.

Every strike they exchanged sent shockwaves through the hellish domain, shattering mountains, boiling seas, and tearing apart the very fabric of Hell itself. Unsuspecting demons caught in the crossfire were mercilessly slaughtered, their bodies vaporized by the sheer energy radiating from the two combatants. The battle raged on, relentless and unforgiving, as Mark and Buer pushed each other to their limits.

The devastation was absolute. Frozen landscapes melted and cracked under the pressure of their clash, desolate plains were torn asunder, and even the darkest corners of Hell felt the impact of their battle. Each step they took, each punch they threw, left chaos and destruction in their wake. It was a fight of unimaginable scale, and yet, both warriors knew that it was far from over.

The battle raged on with unrelenting intensity, both combatants pushing each other to the brink. Buer, with her immense skill and power, finally managed to land a devastating blow to Mark’s face with her trident. The impact was so powerful that it cracked his inner jawbone, and blood poured from his mouth as he was sent crashing to the ground. Despite the staggering pain, Mark forced himself to stand, fixing his broken jaw with a painful snap.

Buer, sensing the advantage, charged at him with fury in her eyes. Her attacks were precise, swift, and executed with the deadly grace of a seasoned warrior. Each strike with her trident was a masterful dance of death, her dark magic seeping into Mark’s wounds and weakening him further with every pierce of his skin.

In a ruthless flurry of movement, Buer found her opening and stabbed Mark repeatedly in the chest and stomach at blinding speed. The trident’s dark magic surged through him, each wound more lethal than the last. Then, with brutal efficiency, she twisted the trident, causing it to expand while still lodged in his chest, tossing him aside like a ragdoll against a distant wall of magma. Mark’s body was bloodied and broken, and he coughed up blood as he tried to recover from the devastating assault.

But Buer was relentless. She closed the gap between them in an instant, delivering a resounding punch to his face that sent him flying through the air. With a deadly gaze and a satisfied smile, she leaped after him, grabbing him midair and tossing him higher. She then unleashed a barrage of punches, each one more intense than the last. Her final punch, charged with all her demonic might, sent Mark crashing to the ground like a fallen meteor, laying waste to everything around him.

Mark, barely able to rise, his legs shaking from the impact, was met with Buer’s trident, now hurled towards him with deadly precision. Just as the trident was about to impale him, it grew to a massive size, threatening to crush him under its immense weight. Summoning every last ounce of his strength, Mark managed to catch the colossal weapon, struggling to lift it as its weight bore down on him.

Buer, standing atop the massive trident, pressed her weight against it, forcing Mark to one knee. She looked down at him, a mix of admiration and mockery in her voice. “What are you fighting for, Mark?” she asked, her weight still pressing down, testing his resolve. She boasted about her trident, infused with all forms of dark magic, and how it had once pierced the heavens during the great war. She claimed its mass was infinite, rivaling the sword of creation itself.

As she monologued, Mark grunted under the strain, his body trembling from the effort. But deep within him, a fierce determination burned. With a thunderous battle cry, he summoned every bit of strength he had left. In a display of raw power, Mark lifted the massive trident, tossing it slightly into the air. As it descended, he clenched his fist and, with a single devastating punch, shattered the colossal weapon into pieces.

The sound of the trident shattering echoed across the hellish landscape, a symbol of Mark’s unyielding spirit and indomitable will. Buer’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as she was thrown back by the force of the explosion. Mark, bloodied and battered, stood tall amidst the ruins of the battlefield, his chest heaving with each breath.

He had done the impossible—he had broken the trident that had once pierced the heavens. And as Buer picked herself up from the ground, a newfound respect for Mark flickered in her eyes. This battle was far from over, but Mark had shown that even in the depths of Hell, his will could not be broken.

***

Buer narrowly dodged the flying remnants of the shattered trident, the force of the impact stunning her midair. Mark's fists were bloodied and injured, evidence of the brutal battle they were locked in.

As the remains of Buer's trident flew towards Mark, suspended and propelled by her dark magic, he quickly raised a forcefield to shield himself. However, some of the shattered pieces managed to penetrate his defense, slicing into his skin and causing pain. Before he could fully recover, Buer unleashed a relentless barrage of magical blasts, each one more powerful than the last. The assault was intense, and as it ceased for a brief moment, the area around Mark was engulfed in dust and debris.

Buer remained poised, her eyes scanning the dust for any sign of Mark. But before she could react, a searing beam of intense heat vision shot through the haze, forcing her to shield herself. This time, the heat vision was far more potent than any of Mark’s previous attacks. It cut through her magical barriers, leaving a deep scar on her forearms as she grunted in pain. The intensity was unlike anything she had faced before, and she realized that Mark had somehow tapped into a new level of power.

As she finally managed to break free from the relentless assault, she found herself face-to-face with Mark, who was now moving at blinding speed. With a brutal and precise motion, he thrust his fist into her chest, ripping out her heart in a single, devastating strike. Without hesitation, he followed up with a swift and lethal move, beheading her with his other hand as if his fingers were made of the sharpest steel. Buer's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, her once-commanding presence reduced to nothing.

Just as Mark tried to catch his breath, the ground trembled beneath him, and he was suddenly confronted by Buer's massive, three-headed beast. The Cerberus-like creature, enraged by its master's death, charged at Mark with murderous intent. The middle head lunged at him, jaws wide open to devour him whole. But Mark, fueled by his relentless will to survive, grabbed hold of the beast’s mouth with both hands. The struggle was immense, the force of the beast pushing Mark back, but he held firm. With a roar of exertion, he began to tear the creature apart, ripping it in half from the mouth. The beast’s remains fell to the ground in a gruesome shower of blood and gore.

As the battlefield fell silent, Mark's eyes locked onto Buer's severed head, which still clung to life. He demanded she fulfill her promise and tell him how to return to his world. Buer, true to her word even in death, informed him of the path forward.

“Only the King of Hell can grant you that request,” she said, her voice weak but laced with dark amusement. “He resides at the edge of the abyss. Find Satan, and he will guide you home. But be warned—he will also test your might.”

With a final, maniacal laugh, Buer’s head was crushed beneath Mark's foot, her twisted existence finally extinguished. Now, with a new destination in mind, Mark knew his trials were far from over. The path ahead would lead him to the very heart of Hell, where the ultimate test of his strength and will awaited.

***

Mark soared through the hellish landscape, his speed defying the very fabric of reality as he crossed the infinite expanse. His eyes locked onto the edge of Hell's existence, where a massive door loomed, its sheer size and thickness dwarfing anything he had encountered. The door was a monstrous barrier, its weight immeasurable, as if it held back the boundaries of the universe itself. Yet, despite his weakened state, Mark summoned every ounce of strength and pushed the door open, feeling the resistance of countless worlds against his efforts.

As the door creaked open with a thunderous groan, Mark stepped into a vast, ominous chamber, where the atmosphere was thick with malevolent energy. Before him was Satan, seated on a colossal throne carved from the darkest materials of the abyss. The Devil's presence was overwhelming, his form towering and monstrous, exuding an aura of pure malice. Around him, six terrifying beasts stood as guardians, each more grotesque and powerful than the last, their eyes locked on Mark with a predatory intensity.

The first beast, a lion-faced creature, was covered in eyes that blinked and stared from every inch of its body. Four large, bat-like wings, charred and deformed, jutted out from its back, each flap stirring the heavy air with a hellish force.

The second beast resembled a calf, but with a sinister twist—six wings sprouted from its body, and two fiery horns crowned its head. A third, human-like eye glared ominously from its forehead, burning with a sinister intelligence.

The third beast was a twisted fusion of man and eagle, bearing two faces—one of a man and the other of a fierce eagle. Its massive wings, like those of an eagle, spread wide, casting shadows over the chamber as it gazed down at Mark.

The fourth beast was the most monstrous of all, with seven heads and ten horns, each horn adorned with ten crowns inscribed with unholy engravings. One of its heads bore a deep, grievous wound that had never healed, a gaping reminder of some ancient battle.

The fifth beast was a hybrid abomination, with the face of a leopard, the feet of a bear, the mouth of a lion, and the wings of a dragon. It snarled and paced, its eyes glowing with an insatiable hunger as it eyed Mark.

The sixth and final beast was perhaps the most unnerving—a creature with the combined face of a lamb and a dragon. It breathed fire with every exhale, its eight wings fanning the flames, as it watched Mark with a calculating gaze.

The six beasts circled Mark, their presence a menacing warning to the intruder who dared confront their master. But Mark, battered and bloodied, stood his ground, his determination unwavering in the face of such overwhelming odds.

Satan, observing from his throne, was an immense figure, his form almost beyond comprehension. His eyes, burning like twin suns, focused on Mark's tiny form, regarding him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Despite the power radiating from the Devil and his hellish guardians, Mark refused to back down. He knew that this was the final test, the ultimate challenge that stood between him and his return to the world he longed to protect.

The chamber fell into a tense silence, the only sound being the heavy breathing of the beasts and the crackling of distant fires. Satan finally spoke, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the vastness of the chamber.

"You have come far, Mark McCoy," Satan said, his tone carrying a mixture of respect and derision. "But do you truly believe you can stand against the King of Hell and his legions?"

Mark’s resolve hardened, his eyes burning with determination as he faced the ruler of the underworld. He knew that the battle ahead would be unlike any he had fought before, but he also knew that he could not turn back now.

"I'm not here to fight your legions," Mark replied, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I'm here to go home. But if I have to go through you to do it, then so be it."

Satan's laughter rumbled through the chamber, a dark, malevolent sound that shook the very foundations of Hell. The six beasts tensed, ready to strike at their master’s command, but Satan raised a hand to stay them.

"Very well," Satan said, leaning forward on his throne, his eyes narrowing as he appraised Mark. "Show me, then, the strength that has brought you this far. Prove to me that you are worthy of leaving my domain."

With that, the beasts growled and began to circle closer, their eyes locked on Mark. The final battle was about to begin, and Mark knew that this confrontation would determine not just his fate, but the fate of all those he sought to protect.