Black feathers rained down. Gone was the veil of mist and ashes that cloaked the three silhouettes. What was left were the rondo of lightning bolts and flames. The question of what would struck them first, the thunderstorm of the Nether World or the zaps of the demon’s king flamethrower, was uncertain for the fallen angel and the grand duke. But for the two, there was nothing left to lose. Whether they die killing the Demon King or they die trying - it was a fight of no return.
To dwell the concept of death and life was an absurd concept for the fallen angel and the lord of darkness.
“This is it? This is the power of the demon lord who has the only potential to combat me?” Demon King Lucifer the Prideful on his full glory cackled. Embers of black and red spewed from his fang-filled mouth
