As the night faded, the sky slowly brightened with the approaching dawn. The battlefield lay in ruins—strewn with the lifeless bodies of angels, shattered weapons, and broken landscapes. Moxie, now barely clinging to his sanity, collapsed to his knees, panting heavily. His transformation had wreaked havoc on his body, pushing him to the brink of exhaustion. The overwhelming surge of power had come at a cost, and now he fought to regain control of himself.
Insanity, covered in blood and bruises, staggered forward, his axe dragging behind him. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one weighed down by the toll of the battle. He came to a stop in front of Moxie, mirroring the scene from their previous encounter when Moxie had stood tall over him. Now, their positions were reversed—Moxie on his knees, broken, while Insanity loomed over him with his weapon ready.
Moxie, calm and eerily composed despite his battered state, lifted his head and looked Insanity in the eye. "End it," Moxie said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Just kill me and put an end to this suffering."
Insanity tightened his grip on the axe, his muscles tensing as he contemplated Moxie's request. For a moment, it seemed like he would swing—after all, this was the perfect opportunity. Moxie was vulnerable, weakened by both physical and emotional wounds. But then, something shifted in Insanity’s expression. His usual chaotic grin faded into something more serious, almost contemplative.
"I don’t see you as an enemy anymore," Insanity said, his voice low but firm. "But I'll grant your wish."
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He raised his axe, but instead of striking Moxie, he buried the blade into the snowy ground beside him. Insanity’s loyalty to chaos and combat was known, but even he couldn’t bring himself to kill his comrade, even if Moxie himself wanted it.
After burying Moxie’s body beneath the snow, Insanity stood over the makeshift grave for a long moment. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, but something about this moment felt heavier than any other battle he’d fought. There was a finality to it—a closing chapter in their journey.
As he turned to leave, he heard a rustling sound among the corpses of fallen angels. Insanity’s eyes narrowed, and his hand instinctively gripped his axe once more. Emerging from behind a pile of dead angels was a lone angel knight, trembling in fear and covered in blood. The knight had somehow survived the massacre, hiding amidst his comrades’ bodies.
Insanity approached him, his steps slow and menacing. The knight cowered in terror, knowing that he had no chance of survival if Insanity decided to strike.
“You,” Insanity growled. “You want to live?”
The knight nodded frantically, his fear evident in every movement.
“Take me to the coldest, most freezing planet in this universe,” Insanity demanded, his voice like ice. “If you do, I’ll spare your life.”
The angel knight wasted no time, his fear overriding any hesitation. “Y-Yes, of course,” he stammered, eager to comply.
As the first light of dawn touched the horizon, Insanity and the trembling knight began their journey. The bloodshed, the grief, the battle—all were left behind in the snow. Moxie’s grave, marked only by the stillness of the frozen ground, faded from sight as they ventured into the unknown, heading for the coldest place in the universe.