The sky reacted first. Red lightning froze mid-strike, suspended in the air like jagged crimson spears. The clouds trembled, rippling outward in concentric waves as if the heavens themselves recoiled from what was to come. Even the floating landmasses—drifting like broken continents in the blood-red sky—halted, locked in place by a force older than the Frontier itself.
Then, the kings erupted.
Five pillars of white light shot upward, piercing the red sky like divine lances. The canyon floor shattered beneath them, unable to withstand the overwhelming surge of power pouring from their bodies. The air warped, bending around the pillars as if reality itself struggled to contain them.
Jarfa staggered back a single step—the first time he had moved without choosing to. His countless eyes widened, all of them dilating at once. "What… is this…?"
The pillars raged, shaking the entire region. The floating landmasses trembled violently, some cracking apart under the pressure. Then, slowly, the brilliance died down. The dust settled.
The five kings stood revealed. Their cloaks billowed in a wind that did not exist. Their armor gleamed with a divine sheen, and their blades glowed so brightly that the air around them distorted like heat haze. Every wound was gone. Every bruise erased. And Vareon—the king who had lost an arm—now stood whole, his fingers flexing with renewed strength.
He looked down at his restored limb, exhaled once, and lifted his blade. "Good. I'm not done."
Jarfa stared, the ring of eyes around his head rotating like a halo of burning stars. "You… mortals… should not possess this power."
Daryon stepped forward, aura swirling around him like a blizzard of white fire. "We do now."
Nipolla moved first. He vanished. A streak of white light cut across the canyon, reappearing behind Jarfa with a slash so fast the air cracked. A massive white arc tore across Jarfa's armor, leaving a mark that pulsed like a fresh wound. Jarfa roared, swinging two blades downward with force enough to split a mountain, but Zanders was already there. He raised his hand, a burst of white magic bending the trajectory of Jarfa's strike just enough to misdirect it into the dirt.
Tcil followed, his aura condensed into a razor-thin edge that cut deeper than ever before. Jarfa stumbled, one knee dipping, the ground cracking beneath his weight. Vareon leapt from above, white aura spiraling around him like a comet. He struck Jarfa's shoulder, and the black metal fractured deep.
Jarfa snarled, swinging all four blades in a furious cross-pattern. The air screamed as they tore through it, but the kings were no longer the same men. Daryon stepped forward, raising his blade; a massive white slash erupted from it, splitting Jarfa's shockwave in half.
The kings moved as one, a dance of divine steel. Nipolla redirected a blade; Zanders bent another with magic; Tcil parried a third; Vareon blocked the fourth with a reinforced guard. Then, Daryon struck. His blade carved a white arc across Jarfa's chest, sending the demon skidding backward.
"You dare wound me?!" Jarfa roared, slamming his foot into the ground to send a shockwave of black energy outward. The kings leapt into the air, dodging the eruption. Jarfa swung all four blades in a hurricane of black metal, but the kings countered with a storm of white.
Daryon appeared behind him in a burst of light. "Jarfa!"
The demon turned—too slow. Daryon's blade struck, sending him stumbling. The kings pressed their advantage. Nipolla severed the first arm. A clean, divine strike—the limb fell, crashing into the dust. Jarfa spun, but Zanders and Tcil combined their magic to throw him off balance, forcing him to kneel. Vareon leapt in and severed the second arm.
Jarfa staggered, eyes wide with shock. Daryon appeared behind him, and the third arm fell. Jarfa spun again, fury burning in every eye, but Nipolla and Vareon struck together. The fourth arm dropped.
Jarfa fell to his knees, the ground shaking beneath his weight. His armor was shattered, his aura flickering, his countless eyes dimming. Still, he tried to rise.
Daryon stepped forward. "Stay down."
He swung. A single white slash.
Jarfa's head separated cleanly, falling with a heavy thud. The demon's body remained kneeling, frozen in place, as if still trying to rise even in death.
Silence fell. The kings stood breathing heavily, their blades lowered as their auras faded from divine brilliance back to a mortal glow. The canyon was in ruins—shattered stone and floating debris suspended in the air.
Vareon exhaled, breaking the quiet. "Alright, alright… let's get these blades and drag the body so we can get it to Dyuke."
The kings nodded, sheathing their weapons. Nipolla walked over and lifted Jarfa's massive head with both hands. Zanders gathered the four severed arms, stacking them neatly. Tcil collected the four enormous blades, strapping them together with aura. Vareon grabbed the demon's body by the armor and began dragging it, his boots scraping across the stone.
Daryon took one last look at the kneeling corpse. "Let's go. We're done here."
The five kings turned, carrying the remains of the Great Demon Jarfa as they walked toward the exit of the Abyssal Frontier, leaving the red sky behind.