"Come Archon…" Haylock whispered. "Let's show this world what pain really is."

Fauna sent a stream of magic bolts at his face. He blocked with a blood curtain again. But this time the spell was lesser – Ethan could sense the gradually diminishing magic in the Doctor's defenses.

He fought to keep his mind focused. He fought to stay in control. He could feel the same red rage he'd felt in Sentinel burning up again.

But instead of succumbing to it, he launched it all at Haylock:

[Spectral Snipe]

[Twilight Edge]

[Petrification Coating]

"Everyone," he said. "Stand. Back."

The party did as commanded, and in the next second, just as Haylock launched nine spears of crimson straight at him, a miasma of burning sapphire erupted from Ethan's claws.

They broke through the Doctor's attack completely, slammed into his wall of blood, and pushed right through.

Ethan saw the light strike him slap bang in his chest and he fell back, spurting blood that was, this time, his own.

"Yes…" he whispered. "YES!"

He jerked back up in the next second. To Ethan's horror, even though there wss now a gaping, sizzling hole in his chest, the lunatic was still smiling.

"That's it!" he howled like a wolf. "Show me – show me MORE!"

What is this fight..? Ethan couldn't help but think. Is…was this all just a game to you?

His companions were not in the same mood.

"Oh, we'll show you more, alright!" Klax bellowed.

Snarling, then wolfman charged again with Tara beside him, her speed augmented by a spell of Fleetfoot from Fauna. The two attacked simultaneously: Tara's daggers streaked downward in a rapid series of jabs aimed at Haylock's abdomen, while Klax went for a raking slash at the man's face.

The result was chaos. Blood sprang up again around the Doctor's body, forming multiple swirling blades that whipped outward to intercept each strike. Sparks flew where Tara's daggers met those living blades of blood. The clang of impact was dull and wet, reminiscent of steel striking raw meat. Klax ducked beneath a slash and lunged for Haylock's chest, only to be slammed backward by a burst of pressurized gore that erupted from the floor. He fell into a cluster of half-formed hybrids, toppling them with a sickening chorus of squelches and thuds.

"Watch it!" Ethan yelled, frustration mounting. Haylock was pinned against the far wall, but not cornered. He had enough space to maneuver, and the environment itself—a labyrinth of vats, tables, and rotted remains—made it nearly impossible to coordinate the perfect strike.

Lamphrey's illusions continued to dance, and Fauna's vines tried to keep weaving around Haylock's legs. But each time they gained ground, that infernal blood magic seared them away. Choking clouds of steam rose from the floor. The stench of heated gore was stomach-turning.

Ethan crouched and prepared another ability. His eyes darted to a vantage point overhead: a metal catwalk near the top of the cavern, possibly used by the Doctor's minions to observe experiments. With a powerful flap of his oaken wings, Ethan leaped upward, landing on the grated walkway. The structure groaned under his weight, but it gave him a higher angle.

Below, Fauna was trying to keep Klax from lunging blindly once more. "We can't just rush him!" she cried. "We have to do it together!"

"Don't you tell me how to avenge her!" Klax snarled, tears in his eyes. Tara grabbed his arm and forcibly turned him to meet her gaze.

"We're all furious," she said. "But if you charge alone, you'll die! And I'm not letting you die. Not now!"

Lamphrey, breathing in ragged gasps, tried to approach the giant vat behind Haylock. It was, after all, Jun'Ei's last living piece. But the Tialax stiffened, her mind assaulted by the presence of that swirling contraption. Something about its vile energies was pushing her back, like the worst sort of mental feedback.

Ethan inhaled and let the dryness of the upper air fill his lungs. He was ready to combine his next moves. If the ground approach was too crowded, he would strike from above. "Sys," he whispered in his mind, though he never expected an answer at a moment like this. "Let's do this."

He launched himself into a headlong Dive from the catwalk, the force of it rattling the metal behind him. He folded his wings tight to reduce drag, hooking in a downward arc that aimed right for the Doctor's center mass. Haylock's gaze flicked up in alarm.

Just as Ethan was about to collide, he snapped his wings open with a savage Wing Buffet that sent an explosive gust at the Doctor's defenses. The surge of air parted the swirling blood barrier—briefly. Ethan twisted his body mid-air and unleashed a second Ice Barrage at point-blank range. Four compact spheres of frost crashed into the swirling red shield, cracking it with searing cold.

A startled grunt escaped Haylock's lips. He thrust a hand forward, controlling the gore as best he could, but Ethan's third follow-up was already coming: Wintherbreath, a freezing exhalation that coated the shield with a second layer of ice. The combined spells slowed the blood's movement drastically.

"Agh—!" Haylock hissed as slivers of frost burrowed past the barrier and bit into his forearms. His black robes stiffened, frozen in multiple places.

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Tara saw the opening. She lunged in low, blades glinting. Klax, spurred by a second wind, came in from the side, muscle coiling for a sideways tackle. Fauna flung an arc of shimmering healing-laced projectiles that sank into the floor, regenerating some of the missing chunks of stone. The space around them steadied, giving them better footing.

It almost looked like they had him. And in that moment, something changed in the Doctor's eyes. A vile hatred mixed with a maniacal zeal.

"Not enough," he spat, voice colder than the frost creeping around him.

Blood from the central basin erupted like a geyser. It splashed downward onto the party, scalding hot with necrotic energy. Tara shielded her face with a forearm but cried out as droplets burned through her sleeve. Fauna stumbled backward, choking on the stench. Ethan's wing was splashed, sizzling like acid. The searing sensation forced him to jump away, hissing in pain.

And then Haylock's defensive barrier flexed outward. Shards of congealed blood shot across the room like red-hot shrapnel. Tara twisted aside to avoid being impaled, but a few shards sliced her left arm, leaving trailing streaks of crimson. Klax raised his arms in a protective cross; shards slammed into his bracers. The clang of impact left him reeling.

Haylock was panting, but he was far from finished. He found his balance and aimed a gnarled finger at Ethan. "You are indeed strong, Archon. But do you really think you can best me in my own domain? Surrounded by my artistry?"

Ethan ignored the burning pain radiating in his left wing. He quickly swapped to Spectral Snipe once more, focusing the swirling energies into a single point. If he could just get a clean shot—

Suddenly, one of the abominations in the vat to Ethan's right shuddered violently. Its half-formed, many-limbed body lurched up against the glass, sending thick fluid sloshing over the rim. With a wet splatter, it crashed to the floor. The creature let out a wheezing hiss, fixating on Ethan with bulging, milk-white eyes.

Fauna froze. "Focus on Haylock!" Ethan snapped, but he was already forced to step away as the abomination advanced, four mutated arms scrabbling along the stone.

Tara flanked the monstrous creation, driving her dagger into its side. It howled, no sense of self-preservation left, only the mindless aggression of Haylock's creation. Blood spilled from the wound in sluggish streams, yet the creature pressed forward.

"Come on!" Tara shouted, her voice more to keep herself steady than to rally others.

Ethan turned his attention back to Haylock. The Doctor had seized that moment to reposition toward the center of the room—away from the outer vats, away from the walls, as if daring them to attack him in open ground. He still had that mocking grin on his face.

Klax locked eyes with him, chest heaving. The sight of Jun'Ei's floating brain in the background fueled his rage, but this time he didn't charge blindly. He drew a deep breath, evidently recalling Ethan's warning about staying cohesive. He moved closer to Ethan, Tara, and Fauna.

"Enough theatrics," Ethan growled. "I'll end this."

He tapped into the dregs of power in his Spirit Core. He was nowhere near empty, but the repeated spells and collisions had gnawed away at his reserves. Sparks of blue light crackled along his wooden forearms. The acrid smell of sizzling blood still clung to the air from the overhead splash.

Haylock tilted his head. "So serious," he mused. "And yet, you haven't even begun to understand what I've achieved here."

With a snarl, Ethan launched himself forward again, readying a combined strike of Ice Barrage and Wing Buffet. Klax and Tara mirrored his approach from either side, forging a trident formation that left no room for the Doctor to escape. Fauna held back, staff raised, ready to heal or bind as needed.

Haylock's eyes flicked from side to side. Red arcs of energy crackled around him, swirling with black tendrils. The stench of rotting iron filled the air. With a guttural hiss, he summoned another wave of blood from the central basin, shaping it into twisting serpents that lashed out at Ethan's group.

Ice collided with blood in a spray of steam. Ethan's Wing Buffet hammered the serpents back, forcing them to spatter against the floor. Klax roared, diving through a gap to aim a savage strike at the Doctor's midsection. Tara rolled beneath a flailing tendril and came up with both daggers stabbing upward toward Haylock's ribs.

For a split second, it looked like the man was pinned. Then his entire shape flickered with unholy speed. A swirl of black magic enveloped him, and he slid just out of range—only to take a dagger graze on his left arm. Tara's blade sliced flesh, and dark blood spattered the ground.

Haylock hissed in pain, forced to stagger backward. His movement ended when Ethan's fist slammed into his chest with a satisfying crunch. The blow sent the Doctor reeling. Momentum carried him into one of the tables, which toppled over. Instruments clanged and scattered.

Coughing, his robes torn and dripping black-red fluid, Haylock glared at them. "Quite," he murmured, voice trembling. "Quite the performance."

He pressed a shaking hand to the fresh wound on his arm, dark eyes flicking to the swirling blood across the floor. The party closed in around him, forming a loose semicircle. Lamphrey, quietly determined, had inched her way behind the group, her gaze never leaving Jun'Ei's vat. But now, even she stepped forward with a burning intensity in her eyes.

For a moment, no one spoke. The torches flickered, illuminating the carnage: the half-formed creatures, the broken tables, the reek of gore that stuck to the back of the throat.

Haylock finally smiled—the same cruel, unnerving expression that made Ethan's stomach churn. He wiped a strand of congealed blood off his chin. "Well fought," he said softly, almost kindly. "But you're too late, you know. You can't save her. You ca-"

"SHUT UP!"

Klax surged forward with a final, decisive strike. His fists clanged together and the sounds of bones breaking apart as he slammed them into the doctor's face.

Haylock erupted in a burst of laughter as his head went flying clear off his body, trailing a geyser of blood after it.

The entire battle stopped abruptly. Everyone stopped and stared at the bloody fountain spurting from the doctor's decapitated body before it crumpled and fell to the ground like a paper doll.

And yet his head rolled towards the center of the sanctum and just kept on laughing.

Klax couldn't even look at him. With the doctor down, and the wolfman's fists covered in viscera, he was forced to look upon the sight of Jun'Ei floating in her vat. He trembled. Ethan saw his fur spike on his back.

Meanwhile, everyone else was looking at the Doctor's still cackling head.

"There is sadness at first," he said. "There is sorrow in seeing what we all really are – just puppets of flesh. Sacks of blood, bone, and bulbous organs all bundled up together in such a delicate little frame."

Ethan growled. He began walking towards the Doctor's still speaking head.

"But that's the truth of our existence, don't you see?" he was saying, like a preacher sermonizing from his last pulpit. "In the end, we are merely flash bags and nothing more. Because that's what He made us. Kaedmon's Law – the whole theatre of our lives – it's all just a shield from the truth."

Ethan stopped abruptly before him, seeing his eyes squelch as they flew to look up at him.

"The truth is, Ethan Hawke, we're made…to die."

Ethan felt his claws clench of their own accord.

"I knew men like you back on earth, too," he said. "Plenty of men like you have existed throughout time. In the end, you all say the same thing. You all say that life is meaningless."

He raised his leg, ready to stomp out the Doctor's existence forever.

"It's a bad excuse," he told the cackling cranium. "A bad excuse for wasting your own life."

But Doctor Haylock only smiled wider at the sight of his approaching end.

And suddenly, the entire room began to shake with the strength of some great beast dredging itself up from the depths of hell itself.

In the center of the room, the black oval trapdoor began to open.

And a single, massive claw emerged.

"My entire life has led me to this, Ethan Hawke," Doctor Haylock whispered. "It's time to see if the Archon can face my greatest creation of all."

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