Sunny did not waste even a fraction of a second lingering on the realization that had just settled in.
The moment the nature of Cocolia's power became clear, he made a decision, and that decision manifested immediately through action rather than hesitation. The Dusk Shard and the Midnight Shard dissolved into motes of shadow in his hands, vanishing as if they had never existed, their presence replaced by something far heavier, far more absolute.
From a torrent of amber flame, the Lance of Preservation emerged.
The weapon did not simply appear; it forced its way into existence, its form coalescing through a cascade of molten light that radiated outward in steady waves. The moment Sunny's hand closed around its shaft, an illusory barrier spread across his entire being, forming a seamless layer of protection that divided itself evenly between his body, his mind, and his soul. It was not merely armor in the traditional sense, nor was it a simple enhancement. It was a declaration, a manifestation of a Path that stood in direct opposition to everything Cocolia now embodied.
Preservation.
He did not pretend to understand the full scope of the Aeons or the way their existence shaped reality, but he understood conflict, and he understood opposition. If there was one thing he had concluded with absolute certainty, it was that certain Paths could not coexist peacefully.
Preservation and Destruction were among them.
One existed to maintain, to protect, to endure. The other existed to tear down, to erode, to end. They were not simply different philosophies; they were enemies by nature, concepts that clashed at the most fundamental level of existence.
And now, that clash was about to play out through them.
Cocolia moved the instant he did.
There was no hesitation on her part, no moment of adjustment as she registered the change in his weapon or the shift in his presence. The corrupted Saint lunged forward with overwhelming force, her black-and-gold spear cutting through the air with a shriek that seemed to carry the sound of something breaking at a deeper level than mere matter.
Sunny met her head-on.
The tip of his lance pressed against the tip of her spear with perfect alignment, the two weapons colliding in a moment of absolute precision. The impact did not explode outward in the same way as their previous clashes. Instead, it condensed, the opposing forces grinding against one another as amber light and corrupted frost struggled for dominance.
Then Sunny moved.
He did not limit himself to simple thrusts, though the lance was designed for it. Instead, he swung the weapon with brutal force, using its length and weight to deliver strikes that blurred the line between piercing and cutting. The blunt edges of the lance carved through the air with enough momentum to slice through condensed ice, each swing carrying a force that distorted the space around it.
Cocolia adapted instantly.
Her second spear manifested in her free hand, forming from blackened ice threaded with golden veins as she spun into motion. The twin weapons moved in perfect coordination, one intercepting Sunny's thrust while the other lashed out toward his side with lethal precision.
Sunny twisted, the amber barrier around him flaring as the attack scraped against it. The moment of contact sent a sharp ripple through the protective layer, the Destruction-infused strike biting into it far more effectively than any of her previous attacks had managed.
He noticed immediately.
Her power was not just stronger in a general sense. It was fundamentally more effective against what he was using. The Path of Destruction did not merely clash with Preservation; it actively undermined it, eroding the very concept of defense that the amber barrier represented.
At the same time, his own attacks were producing results.
Each strike of the Lance of Preservation left behind traces of amber flame that clung to Cocolia's form, interfering with the rapid regeneration that had made her so difficult to damage. The wounds he inflicted did not vanish instantly anymore. They lingered, slowed, the ice struggling to reform under the opposing influence.
It was not enough to turn the tide.
But it was enough to matter.
Sunny adjusted his approach without conscious thought, his movements shifting to account for the new dynamic. He gripped the lance with two of his arms, using it to parry and intercept her spear strikes before they could reach the amber barrier directly. Every deflection was calculated, minimizing the contact between her Destruction-infused attacks and his defenses.
His other two arms, along with his tail, moved independently.
He fought like a beast.
Not in the sense of losing control, but in the sense of abandoning conventional limitations. He dropped low, his movements becoming erratic and unpredictable as he crawled across the battlefield in bursts of speed that defied his size. His claws lashed out in savage arcs, aiming for openings that would not exist in a more structured exchange, while his tail snapped through the air like a whip, striking with enough force to disrupt her balance or redirect her attacks.
At one point, he coiled his tail around one of her spears, attempting to wrench it aside long enough to create an opening. Cocolia responded by releasing the weapon entirely, allowing it to dissolve before reforming in her other hand, her movements never breaking rhythm.
The fight escalated further.
Despite everything, despite the augmentation, the transformation, the Path he had chosen to wield, Sunny was losing ground.
The difference in their existence was too great.
He was an Ascended Devil, powerful beyond what most could comprehend, but she was a Corrupted Saint. Every exchange pushed him closer to his limits, every clash forcing him to expend more effort just to keep up.
Then she found an opening.
It was not obvious, not something a less experienced fighter would have recognized, but for someone of her level, it was enough.
Her spear shot forward with blinding speed, slipping past his defenses in a narrow gap between movements. The tip pierced through his chest, the force behind the attack driving it deep enough to strike something far more important than flesh or armor.
It struck his true shadow.
***
Far below, in the Underworld, the situation had begun to spiral in its own way.
Clara stood before the now-open Nightmare Gate, her expression calm despite the chaos unfolding around her. Svarog moved in front of her, his mechanical form acting as an unbreakable wall against the tide of Nightmare Creatures pouring through the Gate. Dormant creatures fell first, then Awakened ones, their bodies torn apart with precise, efficient movements that left no room for error.
The Fallen followed soon after.
Svarog adjusted seamlessly, his weapon systems adapting to the increased threat level as he continued to hold the line. The ground around the Gate was already littered with the remains of destroyed creatures, their forms reduced to broken fragments under the relentless assault.
Clara watched.
She was not idle, not passive, but waiting.
The plan required timing, and she trusted that timing more than she trusted the instinct to act prematurely. Her gaze remained fixed on the Gate, her focus unbroken even as the battle intensified.
Then something changed.
A red blur shot out from the Gate.
It moved so fast that even her enhanced perception struggled to track it, the creature crossing the battlefield in less than a second. Svarog reacted instantly, halting his current engagement as his sensors locked onto the anomaly.
He turned his head toward Clara, a single mechanical eye glowing as it processed the situation.
"Clara, fourteen units of our forces have fallen to this Nightmare Creature in the past two seconds. Shall I engage?"
Clara's eyes widened slightly, the speed of the report forcing her to reassess immediately. The creature was not just fast. It was devastatingly efficient, capable of dismantling their defenses before a proper response could be mounted.
She clenched her fists briefly before making her decision.
"We won't be able to go after it together. If it's only one, then it will likely be stopped by the automatons guarding the citizens."
Her voice remained steady despite the tension.
"I'll deal with it. You hold this off until the plan begins."
Svarog did not argue.
"Understood. Combat data has been transferred to your implant."
Clara nodded once.
The next moment, she disappeared, a random automaton appearing in her position.
***
Elsewhere in the Underworld, the atmosphere was far less controlled.
Inside a small clinic, the tension manifested in a different way.
Ilya shifted restlessly, his irritation barely contained as he paced back and forth.
"This is ridiculous. We're just supposed to sit here and wait while everything's happening out there?"
Natasha glanced at him, her expression firm but not unkind.
"We're supposed to stay alive. There's a difference."
Her tone carried a quiet authority that made it clear she was not interested in arguing the point.
"We're already lucky that we're this far away from where the Nightmare Gate opened. The people closer to it didn't have the luxury of staying in place. They had to leave everything behind."
Ilya frowned, clearly dissatisfied but unable to refute her logic.
Before he could respond, the door swung open.
Natasha turned toward the sound, ready to greet whoever had entered.
"See—ah, Veliona. I would have thought you'd be fighting with the others."
Veliona stood in the doorway.
Something about her presence immediately set something off in Ilya, though he could not explain why. A cold sweat formed along his back, his instincts reacting to something his mind could not yet process.
Veliona's voice was calm.
Too calm.
"I'm sorry… where is Seele? …I'm sorry…"
Natasha frowned slightly, her expression shifting into mild exasperation.
"Did you leave without telling her again? Whatever will I do with you?"
She shook her head before turning toward the back.
"Well, with what's happening outside, it might be better for you to stay here. Want some snacks?"
She took a step forward.
Veliona followed.
The movement was almost silent, accompanied only by a faint sound that resembled the flutter of wings.
In an instant, she was directly behind Natasha.
"No Seele… I'm sorry…"
Her hand extended.
A single touch against Natasha's back.
Then—
Nothing.
Natasha's body went still before collapsing, her form slumping lifelessly to the ground without resistance.
Ilya stared.
His mind refused to process what he was seeing, the disconnect between expectation and reality leaving him frozen in place.
"Huh?"
Veliona turned her head toward him.
"Seele… where… I'm sorry…"
Her expression did not match her words.
Ilya's voice broke as he tried to speak, emotions crashing into each other in a chaotic surge.
"I… you…!"
"Seele is right here."
The voice cut through the moment.
Veliona turned.
Seele stood in the doorway.
Her gaze was empty as it settled on Veliona, taking in every detail without flinching. Her back and forehead had turned into a bloody mess of gore, the antennas and wings of a moth protruding. Her eyes took on a hollow darkness, compounded with the crimson sheen reminiscent of blood.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Veliona's lips curved into a wide grin.
"Seele! Seele! I'm so, so, so, so sorry! Let's play together, sorry Seele!"
Seele's gaze flickered briefly toward Natasha's body.
A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek before she wiped it away without hesitation.
When she looked back at Veliona, she was smiling.
"Sure."
Her voice was light.
"Let's play tag, little sis."
Veliona moved first.
She warped forward instantly, her hands reaching out as she closed the distance in a blink.
Seele was already gone.
Her form blurred as she activated the same ability, phasing out of reach and reappearing further down the corridor. Without looking back, she accelerated, her movements carrying her out into the Underworld at full speed.
Veliona followed.
The chase began.
They moved like streaks of light through the industrial labyrinth, their forms flickering in and out of existence as they warped forward again and again. The distance between them remained just enough to prevent contact, Seele maintaining the lead as she guided the path deliberately.
She was not running blindly.
She was leading Veliona away.