First Gate of Hell
The ash settled like snow.
Malphas stood motionless in the still air, Zarkhalem's monstrous blade humming with faint cursed energy in his hand. He glanced down at the disintegrated ashes of Thorne, his once-vicious foe now nothing but a smoldering memory. Then, slowly, he let go of the blade.
Zarkhalem dissolved into a mist of dark ash, its presence fading into the wind.
"You should have just stayed dead," Malphas muttered, his voice low, tired.
He turned away from the remains of battle, shoulders slouched as if finally bearing the weight of the entire infernal war.
"I never wanted to use my soul weapon against you… but I guess this ends the infernal war." He sighed, rubbing a smear of blood from his cheek.
"Phew…" he exhaled, glancing up at the sky as smoke swirled above. "I'm exhausted. I need to eat more of Nena's food to recover…"
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Second Gate of Hell
