The heavens bled red.
Fragments of molten light rained across the broken skies, casting the battlefield in shades of ruin and fire. The air trembled with the clash of two Saints — Noctis and Solvane — their every strike capable of tearing open the world itself.
A vast ruin stretched beneath them, a graveyard of shattered buildings and broken towers swallowed by shadow. Waves of detestation rolled across the landscape as two Transcendent beings met once more, neither willing — nor able — to die.
Noctis stood amid the wreckage, his once-handsome face ruined by battle. The left half of it was mangled beyond recognition, the flesh warped and torn where Solvane's hand had passed through. One of his eyes was gone; the other burned crimson, mirroring the blood moon above. His raven hair, usually lustrous and untamed, was scorched and clumped with dried blood. His breathing was ragged, yet his smile — weary, crooked, almost tender — remained.
Solvane hovered before him, radiant and dreadful. Her beauty was of the kind that broke reason — her chestnut hair floated like silk through the air, streaked with gold from reflected flames. Most of her wounds were unseen, having struck her very soul. Her chest rose and fell as she exhaled softly, the wounds on her arms glowing faintly as they knit back together. Her eyes, suffused with light, reflected only contempt.
Between them, the ground was carved into trenches of molten stone. Every exchange left a scar upon the world.
Solvane sighed, seeming utterly disinterested in the battle.
"Haven't you heard, little pup? Picking a fight with me will do you no good. I recently lost my knife to one of Shadow's kin, you see…"
Her gaze turned slightly hopeful.
"Unless you happened to conveniently come across it, of course."
Noctis tilted his head, his good eye glinting with humor.
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't? Who could say that they are sure about anything in these trying times?"
He twirled his blade — a jagged, luminous weapon forged from something older than light — and lunged.
The air screamed.
Each movement was too fast for the mortal eye to follow, too violent for comprehension. Moonlit sword clashed against bare fists, both unrelenting in their disastrous might.
Solvane's laughter, bright and melodious, rang across the ruin.
"What? You won't tell me where it is? Or do you have it with at this very moment?"
Noctis grinned through the blood.
"A sorcerer never reveals their tricks… I think?"
The two of them lunged forth once more, aiming to rend flesh, tear apart, and bathe in the other's blood.
In the end, the two of them hesitated, for they had a guest.
Solvane raised an arm to the side of her head, blocking a set of claws that imbed to slice through her neck. She was sent skidding through rubble, her gaze shifting to look at the intruder.
A figure — tall, monstrous, with four arms and a body of searing teal plasma — seemed to have crawled from her very shadow, bringing Destruction wherever it went. Its outline flickered between form and formlessness, its steps seeming to threaten the earth itself.
The Devil had arrived.
Its body was roughly humanoid, but no humanity remained. Where flesh once was, there was only radiance and energy; where eyes once had shone, now glowed two suns of molten gold. The world seemed to tremble beneath its presence, not from power, but from wrongness.
Both Saints turned toward it.
Noctis, despite the ruin of his face, blinked — and then barked a rough laugh.
"…Sunless? Is that you?"
The Devil didn't answer. It couldn't.
It only stared.
Something deep within its twisted soul throbbed — an ancient hatred, a buried promise. The shape before it, Solvane, kindled that flame into frenzy.
A shriek tore from its throat — a sound not made for words — and the creature launched forward.
Solvane barely raised her guard before the Devil was upon her.
A blow like thunder struck forearm, sending her flying back through the molten ruins. Noctis took a lazy step aside, shaking ash from his hair, then smiled faintly.
"You won't mind if I sit this one out, yes? My friend here seems to have some things he needs to get off his chest."
The Devil landed heavily, melting the ground beneath its feet. Every motion left afterimages of teal light, fracturing the air. Solvane spun mid-flight, slashing her hand downward like a blade.
Despite being a fair distance away, the Devil recoiled as a slash wound appeared on its body, carving through its chest. It did not let that stop it, however, lunging forth with another onslaught of attacks.
Solvane furrowed her brow.
"You survived, cowardly Shadow. Come for revenge, have you?"
Noctis watched, leaning slightly on his weapon like a man at a tavern door. His ruined face twisted in amusement.
"You look less hideous than usual, Sunless. Unfortunately, not even I could use my charm to distract her, so that won't help you much."
The Devil didn't hear.
It didn't think.
It only moved.
Every strike it unleashed cracked the air like a whip, its power drawn from fury, grief, and whatever was left of the man inside. Solvane countered with elegance born of eternity — her strikes were poetry, her steps divine. Yet the Devil's madness consumed even that grace, smothering it in violence.
Invisible slashes flew through the air, carving through the earth and the uncertain body of the Devil. Yet, none of them seemed fatal… as if they were rejected moments before impact by an unseen force.
Noctis whistled as the intensity skyrocketed.
"Maybe I should move further ba—"
He paused, his gaze stricken with an uncharacteristic seriousness. His gaze burrowed deep into the Devil's soul. Four orbs of darkness — the sign of any proper Shadow Creature — started to shake.
'No…'
A molten gold began to shroud the inky darkness, covering any trace of that which came from the shadows.
In the physical world, the plasma-like body of the Devil began to crack…