Aleph took the initiative. He closed the gap between them in a burst of blue energy, eschewing from using the blade at his hip in order to attack with his fists. His force gauntlets gleamed with mana, lighting up the heart of the black sea. 

He attacked with righteous fury, swinging, swiping and clawing at Lost in a flurry of blows. She deftly blocked with her spear, but due to the distance, was unable to mount a counterattack. And so she was pushed back, forced back step by step until she was blown backwards by a particularly strong straight punch.

“You are finally taking me seriously.” Lost commended as wisps of black smoke started to coalesce around her head to form her helm. She lowered her stance, but kept the casual address. “With some new toys, to boot. Tell me, is that Oblivion?”

“Among other things.” Aleph answered. “Deceit’s here, too. And a few of your emissaries.” He pointed them out as he mentioned them, each heart and horn mounted on his weaponry. He observed her as he did so, suspicious of her intent. Despite her sudden appearance, she was acting way too passive for his liking. It was concerning.

Aleph’s eyes darted out through the black sea, momentarily able to see due to his own outburst of strength. It was already dark out, despite sunset being hours away. Such phenomena were commonplace when dealing with demons, as they grew stronger at night, but this felt different. Now having an idea of what to look for, he felt a massive energy beyond the horizon, inching closer and closer towards them.

Aleph gathered his mana at his feet, preparing to flee. He spotted Vaynard locked in a vicious battle with Superbia, his watery personas cleaved in batches by the King’s swordsmanship. He was doing well, but like Aleph himself, was too far away from victory to prepare for what’s to come. He charged towards his direction with a sense of urgency. Their plan was sound, but it was no longer relevant. At this time, their best move was to regroup.

“No, you don’t!” Lost had caught on, and this time she was the one going on the offensive. His spear was nowhere in sight, this time attacking with an ominous dagger. She went straight for his heart, stabbing with such malice. Aleph gripped the blade as it came, but he came out of it holding nothing. Lost pulled back her strike, twisting the trajectory of the blade to come arcing from above. Aleph chopped at her wrist, deflecting the blade, before driving his elbow into her solar plexus.

…Or at least, he tried to.

Kshhhhh!

Lost turned into his strike,making his armored elbow skid across her, making sparks fly as metal met metal, but was otherwise harmless. Lost used the momentum to stab at his back, but Aleph was one step ahead, arcing his knee upwards to meet her head on. Lost caught the knee with both hands, letting the force carry her off the ground. A red glint in her helmet announced her next attack, a headbutt right into his temple.

Bang!

Aleph struck with his head against hers, cutting the power down significantly. He gritted his teeth as they vied for position, locking into his opponent’s blood red eyes.

Next came a series of parries and strikes, a frantic dance with deadly repercussions. Aleph lost himself in the fight, as Lost was proving she was every bit as adept within close quarters. As the battle wore on, though, he discovered a flaw in her martial arts. She favored a particular spot in her lower belly. She defended it at all costs, even to the point of abandoning her offensive if it meant taking a simultaneous strike in that area.

Aleph made his move. He let himself be pushed, stepping back a few too many times than necessary. Next, he drew a few of his throwing knives and threw them at her stomach. Lost stepped to the side, but the knives turned with her, readjusting their course in an effort to attack her. It forced her to use her hands to block, which Aleph took advantage of. He charged right after he threw the knives, aiming for when she felt forced to block them.

Pow! A gauntleted fist struck the demon king’s face, sending her sprawling towards the ground. Aleph exulted, briefly reveling in a clean attack finally getting through. He returned to his original plan to get out of there with Vaynard, only to find that both he and Lost were in a completely different place.

Lost stood, her cracked helmet returned to the darkness, revealing a bruised up Lost. She spat to the side, running her hands through her long black hair in an attempt to straighten it. Two gems floated about her at this moment, Deceit’s purple one, and a familiar amber one he saw back at the capital. The pair twinkled in their respective lights, with the purple one shying away to reveal a brilliant amber light.

“I borrowed that one from Grief.” She said lightly. Aleph looked around at the familiar, yet not, environment. There were signs of battle, of cracked ground and scorched walls. He looked up to see the dark sky through a circular opening that was clearly man made.

He’s seen this place in his mind: This was where Rayse and the others fought Rage and Conquest.

“Why don’t we stay here?” Lost said, even as her body dissolved into shadow. “I can keep you company until Father arrives.”

Aleph ignored her, frantically boosting himself upwards to escape. At least, he went to what he thought was upwards. He somehow kept running into dead ends despite going in one direction.

“What’s the hurry? Didn’t you want to meet him?” Lost taunted him through the ether. He paid her no mind, just trying desperately to leave. Deceit’s powers had duped him before, but he thought his current self to be above such trickery. The herald’s gem shone brilliantly as it floated below, casting nightmarish shadows against the jagged rock. It crossed Aleph’s mind to destroy it so he can leave, but quickly shot the idea down after a few of his throwing knives passed harmlessly through it.

Aleph had no time for this. The blackened sky, the demons’ rampaging energies, and the massive power headed in their direction. He had experienced them before. But try as he might, he cannot break through the illusion. 

Frustrated, Aleph slowed to a halt. He floated back down to the floor where the shadows were concerging.

The black smoke shifted and turned, morphing into something he couldn’t quite make out. Lost stepped through the chaos, parting it with nothing but a thought, looking thoroughly like a god of war. She pointed her spear, heedless of the changing clouds of smoke around her, and challenged him.

“Come,” She said. “Welcome God.”

__________________________________

The kingdom’s new sun was in a hell of a bout.

“Hyah!”

Vaynard’s blade formed a brilliant crescent as he spun, clearing out two more of the demon king’s images. He turned once more afterwards, making certain that he had finally gotten them all this time. When sure, he struck a victorious pose, fitting of a man of his stature.

“I grow weary of you, human.” Superbia said.

Vaynard turned to the direction of the voice, spotting yet another watery king upon the throne of rock. Superbia lazily raised a hand, sending another jet of water this way. Vaynard let himself be struck, as it would have been unbecoming to dodge while holding a pose. 

“Ack!”

He stared at the blood soaking his armor, wondering if his current form would make for a heroic looking statue.

I should remember this for later, he decided.

“Ah.” He continued, as if he didn’t just impale someone. “Still not dead. As expected.”

Vaynard ignored his opponent’s yapping, preferring to think about what he was missing about this fight.

It had been a while since Lost appeared to take Aleph away from Superbia’s throne room. That made him sad. For one thing, Aleph had always been much more suited to this kind of enemy. And for another, he really wanted to have a go at the one that stabbed his dad into oblivion. Ohhh, would he have loved to have been the one to kill that bitch.

“...You disappoint me.” Superbia said, as if deciding on something. Vaynard hadn’t really been listening. Sparks flowed from several of his wounds as multiple water spikes began to send electricity into his body.

Huh. He blinked, as if just now noticing the many water spikes embedded in his torso. When did that happen?

Bzzzzzt!

Vaynard convulsed uncontrollably as electricity surged through his veins. His jaw tightened, preventing him from screaming as he felt his regrowing skin be burned over and over.

Focus, Vaynard. He scolded himself. That trollop showing up has thrown you off your game.

Using the light from his own body as illumination, Vaynard looked all over the throne room for some kind of clue as to how to beat this pushover.

Even lit up by his magnificence, this place was dreary as all hell. Unadorned bedrock and a dirty pool for a sky? Surely the king of demons could swing for something better.

Anyway, this guy really has unlimited mana, doesn’t he?

Vaynard pored over every single crevice until the demon king decided he had enough.

“Like your people, you are proving a hassle to eradicate.” Superbia noted, releasing him from his electric bondage.

Vaynard dropped on his knees, grateful for the cold and refreshing stone floor. Maybe it was the torture, but he was beginning to appreciate its rustic charms. The rough, irregular stone, the way it stayed perfectly pristine regardless of how much blood he poured out to it, how it stayed exactly the same regardless of how much of it he sliced away. Like, he saw the clash of the demon kings from a distance this past month, and would have thought that even Lost’s attack would have put a dent in…wait…

“...I’ve decided.” Finally, it clicked. Vaynard jumped up, feeling completely rejuvenated. Superbia stared at him with admiration. Maybe it was being stuck with him for a while, but Vaynard was really starting to understand the demon king’s subtle facial expressions.

“Did I finally break you, human?”

“Not at all!” Vaynard said cheerily. He picked his sword back up and regrew his armor, returning to his original, brilliant visage. He kept on talking, as if he wasn’t just interrupted.

I’ve decided that you,” he declared as he struck another pose, “are finished!”