The sky of the mental domain had darkened, saturated by the presence of Shaytan, the Princess of Sloth. The battle had been of unheard-of violence. I saw them on a plain of broken mirrors. Kaiser was at the end of his strength, his aura wavering, his body lacerated by the shadow thorns of the demonic princess.
He had interposed himself between Sierra and a mortal blow, blood flowing over his hands while he murmured words of encouragement to the terrified elf. He had nearly died there, in that psychic void, consumed by the demonic essence to save a woman he was only supposed to manipulate. Sierra had clutched him against her, weeping tears of pure mana, and it was this emotional union, this couple's bond forged in agony, that had finally banished Shaytan.
