Belial's breath came in ragged gasps, his limbs burning with exhaustion. The endless fight had drained him to his core. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, yet the creatures kept coming. His crimson eyes darted around, searching desperately for a reprieve.
Then he saw it—a massive angelic statue, towering above the battlefield like a silent guardian. The male angel had long flowing hair and a serene, unshaken face, almost mocking the chaos unfolding below.
This will do.
Summoning the last of his strength, Belial lunged, clawing his way up the weathered stone. His fingers dug into every crack, his legs bracing against the structure. Just as he reached the top, a creature lunged at him, but he twisted, barely catching himself before tumbling off.
The beasts were relentless, their twisted forms scrambling up after him, clawed hands tearing into the statue's surface. Time was running out.
Belial gritted his teeth. No choice then.
Placing a hand on the angel's head, he pressed against it, willing it to move. It wasn't enough. Dark purple energy flared around him, his power coalescing into a spectral pillar that braced against the opposite wall. With a final, bone-straining effort, he shoved.
The massive angel groaned under the force—cracks spread across its foundation before it toppled, crashing down with a thunderous roar. The bulk of the creatures below were obliterated, crushed beneath the sheer weight of the stone.
Belial exhaled sharply, his vision swimming. But before he could catch his breath, an eerie energy surged through him. Shadows coiled around his fingers, forming into several phantom swords that hovered at his command. The last of the monsters barely had time to react before the spectral blades tore through them, slicing with ruthless efficiency.
Finally, silence.
Belial leaped down, but the moment his feet touched the ground, his body gave way. He was covered in cuts, his clothes torn, and his arms trembled from exertion. He allowed himself a moment to breathe.
And then—
CRASH.
The ground shook. Dust filled the air as something heavy stepped forward.
Belial's eyes snapped to the right, and his breath hitched.
Standing before him, shrouded in thick black armor, was a Black Ogre.
It was unlike anything he had ever faced. Its muscular frame radiated menace, its heavy armor etched with ancient markings. A long dao blade gleamed in its massive hands, its jagged edge reflecting the dim light.
For the first time, Belial felt something cold settle in his gut.
Yet, instead of fear, his lips curled into a smirk.
"So, you're just gonna stand there, big guy? No villainous monologue? No 'tremble before me, mortal' speech? Nothing?" Belial taunted, rolling his shoulders. "Well, I hope that sword is compensating for something. Like, I dunno… your minuscule brain, maybe?"
The ogre didn't respond. It simply moved.
Belial's instincts screamed—he barely dodged as the monster's blade swung through the air, cutting the space where he had stood just a second before. He retaliated immediately, his scimitar flashing as he aimed for the creature's neck.
CLANG.
The impact jolted through his arms. His blade barely scratched the armor. The ogre hadn't even flinched.
Belial leaped back, trying to rethink his strategy—
Too late.
A massive fist came hurtling toward him.
The force hit him square in the chest, launching him backward. He collided with the cavern wall, stone cracking beneath the impact. Pain flared through his ribs. His vision blurred.
He staggered, barely managing to keep himself upright. His body screamed at him to stop, to give in—but he couldn't. Not now.
The ogre stepped forward, its eyes burning like molten embers.
Belial raised his sword.
...
Xin slashed through the last of the monsters, his breath heavy, his movements sluggish. His arms ached, and exhaustion gnawed at his edges. But as the final creature crumbled to dust, he allowed himself a moment—just one—to believe that it was over.
I made it.
But then—
Something was wrong.
A sudden, paralyzing cold wrapped around him. His very body began to dissolve, fading like the wretched creatures before him.
An icy terror seized him.
"N-No—wait! What's happening?! No, no, no!" Xin gasped, his hands vanishing before his eyes. He staggered, panic surging through him. His breath turned frantic.
"No, please—please! I don't want to die! Not like this!"
His voice cracked, sheer desperation clawing at his throat.
"I still have to find Bel! NO! PLEASE!"
His scream shattered the silence.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
A Second Later…
Xin gasped.
Air rushed into his lungs, and he collapsed, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The cold was gone. The pain—vanished.
Wooden trees surrounded him, the scent of moss and damp earth filling his nostrils. He clutched at his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his torn clothes.
"I'm… alive?" he whispered, disbelief lacing his voice.
A second passed. Then another.
Then he howled.
"I'M ALIVE!!"
His laughter was raw, incredulous, almost hysterical. Relief crashed over him in waves. He was alive. He had survived.
But his elation died as quickly as it had come.
His head snapped around. His breath hitched.
Belial wasn't there.
His stomach twisted.
"He should be done by now. Where is he?" Xin muttered, a creeping dread settling into his bones.
His hands trembled as he activated his Hax, his ability scanning the area for any trace of Belial.
Nothing.
No vibrations.
No heartbeat.
No sign of him.
Xin's blood turned to ice.
"No…" His voice wavered, the horror seeping in. "It… it can't be. No—Bel's not—he can't be… right? Right…?"
His chest tightened, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Tears blurred his vision.
"Absolutely not—no. He's not—no, no, no!" His hands clenched his head, his body shaking.
And then, the final breaking point.
His legs gave out.
He crumpled to his knees, sobbing.
"Why…? Why him?! Why not me?! I was the one who got into this mess—not him! It's my fault. If I hadn't—if I just—"
His voice cracked.
The weight of guilt crashed onto him, suffocating, inescapable.
"No… No, no, no…" he whispered, his voice shrill and ragged. "It's… all my fault."
And as Xin sat there, grief-stricken and shattered, the only thing that remained was the echo of his own torment.
Belial was on his knees on the dungeon floor, his chest pounding. Blood flowed from a multitude of cuts, pooling on the stones below him. He hissed through his teeth as he tried to lever himself up, standing once more, holding his sword before him.
The ogre glared down at him, features twisted in fury. It barreled forward, its big hand up to deliver a kill strike. Belial steeled himself, running thoughts through his head a mile a minute in the search for a hole in the thing's defenses.
He activated his 'Shadow Trigger', and a murky haze coursed through his veins, numbing his ache and bolstering his muscle tissues. Despite the danger, he had no choice. He confronted the ogre's assault by means of swiftly countering the attacks with his sword
The two had been evenly balanced, every blow of the opponent landed with equal strength. Belial had been proficiently dodging the attacks of the ogres' and parrying its strike, yet he would feel its irritation rising as its actions become more erratic and haphazard.
Belial bided his time, giving the ogre a glance at the moment before attacking. Upon closing, he seized the opportunity and unleashed his Phantom Sword, calling upon swarms of dark blades that homed in on his target with deadly precision.
With a roar, the ogre parried each simply with a clashing noise. It charged in the direction of Belial, its considerable body moving the earth under their feet. As it lifted its fist to strike, Belial saw his threat to counterstrike.
He suddenly plunged the sword forward, the glinting blade cutting through the smoky air. The weapon found its target, cutting through the ogre's flesh and bone. In a final, excruciated scream, down the beast fell.
Belial towered over the fallen ogre, his breath coming in heavy gasps that gave way to expand his chest. He taunted the creature, leering down at its useless form. "That turned into quite a war," he stated, as he knelt beside the wounded ogre.
"I must say, I was underestimating your power in the beginning. You really fought bravely.
But his victory was short-lived. As he looked on, the ogre's body began to dissolve into material, turning into soil before his very eyes. Belial staggered backward, his eyes growing wide with shock.
He hadn't in any way seen anything like it before. He looked down at his bloodied hands, and his vision started to blur. "So this is how it ends," He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own disintegration.