"Fuck you," she spat, literally—blood-mixed saliva hitting his face.

The Reaper cleaned the spit off his face with one hand, his expression unchanged. "Fair enough. I respect that. Defiant to the end. You died like a warrior should."

His sword rose higher, catching the light. The blade that had killed twelve demon lords, that had ended countless lives, that had never failed to claim its target.

It began to descend—

In the Central Spire

Satou had been watching through the scrying orb, his hands clenched so tight his claws had drawn blood from his own palms.

He'd watched Seraphine fight with everything she had. Watched her unleash power that made the earth shake. Watched her actually wound The Reaper, make him bleed, force him to release a limiter.

And then he'd watched it all fall apart.

Watched as The Reaper adapted to everything. Watched as he turned Seraphine's own abilities against her. Watched as the gap between them became insurmountable.

Now he was watching her kneel in her own blood, watching that sword rise for the killing blow, and something inside Satou snapped.

"No," he whispered.

The plan. The strategy. Waiting for the perfect moment. All of it evaporated in the face of watching someone die when he could prevent it.

"No!" Satou roared, and his aura exploded.

Void Fang materialized in his hand as he sprinted toward the door, his speed enhanced by Shadow Step, Void Step, every movement ability he had pushing him faster.

"My Lord, wait!" Cassius appeared in his path, vampire speed allowing him to intercept. "If you go now, you'll ruin the plan! The opening isn't ready! You need to—"

"Let me go, Cassius," Satou said, his voice carrying a tone that hadn't been there before. Not anger exactly, but something colder. More absolute. His eyes had shifted—one glowing with draconic gold, the other swirling with void-darkness. The bloodlust radiating from him was palpable, a physical pressure that made even Cassius hesitate.

"My Lord, please," Cassius tried again, but his hands were already loosening. The sheer presence Satou was emitting—this wasn't the young demon lord he'd been assigned to protect. This was something else. Something that recognized no authority, accepted no restraint when someone under his protection was in danger.

"I said," Satou repeated, his aura intensifying until cracks appeared in the floor beneath him, "let me go."

Cassius's hands released completely, his instincts overriding his orders. This was a predator's killing intent, and every survival instinct he had was screaming not to get between it and its target.

Satou was gone in the next instant, moving faster than he ever had before. Shadow Step and Void Step combining, allowing him to cross miles in seconds.

Cassius stood alone in the hallway, watching his lord disappear. Then he smiled—a genuine expression of respect and admiration.

"This is why I chose to continue serving you," he said quietly. "You always put others over yourself. You can't stand to watch someone die when you have the power to save them." His smile widened, fangs showing. "Well then, it looks like it's time for me to join the fight as well. Can't let you have all the fun."

He dissolved into mist, following at his own incredible speed.

The Reaper's sword descended, aimed perfectly to sever Seraphine's head cleanly. She'd given him a good fight. The least he could do was make her death quick and painless.

Then his instincts screamed.

DANGER.

The Reaper twisted, his sword changing trajectory from execution to defense, bringing it up to block—

Three sword shockwaves carved through the air, invisible blades of compressed force moving faster than sound. The Reaper's block deflected two of them, but the third—he'd sensed it a fraction of a second too late.

The shockwave caught his cheek.

For the first time in the entire battle, The Reaper felt pain that wasn't immediately adapted away. Reality itself had been cut, and his face was caught in that cut. Blood—his blood—sprayed from a diagonal slash across his right cheek.

The Reaper's hand went to his face, coming away red. His eyes widened in genuine shock. Someone had hit him. Someone had wounded him. Not through overwhelming power like Seraphine's paradox strike, but through perfect precision and timing.

He turned toward the source of the attack.

Standing where the sword shockwaves had originated was a figure that hadn't been there moments before. Shorter than The Reaper but radiating presence that made even the hero take notice. One eye glowing draconic gold, the other swirling with void-darkness. Iridescent scales catching the light. And in his hands, a sword that looked wrong—not poorly made, but fundamentally wrong, like it existed partially outside reality itself.

Satou stood there, holding Seraphine in one arm while Void Fang rested in his other hand. His entire body was tense, coiled like a spring, every muscle ready to explode into motion. His aura was unlike anything The Reaper had encountered—not overwhelming power, but something else. Something hungry. Something that looked at The Reaper and saw not an invincible legend but prey.

The cut on The Reaper's face wasn't healing. Not immediately, anyway. The wound resisted his regeneration, fought against his adaptation, because it wasn't just a physical injury. Void Fang had cut not just his flesh but the concept of his invulnerability, leaving a mark that would need time to properly adapt to.

The Reaper touched his bleeding cheek again, then looked at Satou with an expression that was equal parts surprise and delight.

"Well now," The Reaper said, his smile returning despite the blood running down his face. "This just got interesting."

Mist coalesced beside Satou, reforming into Cassius. The vampire's crimson eyes assessed the situation in an instant—his lord facing The Reaper, Seraphine bleeding out, and the legendary hero sporting a wound that wasn't healing.

"Should I have the honor to fight with you, my lord?" Cassius asked, his tone respectful but urgent. "This isn't an opponent you can fight alone."

Satou's head snapped toward him, fury still blazing in his mismatched eyes. For a moment, Cassius thought he might be rejected—told to stay back, to protect Seraphine, to not interfere. But then Satou's expression shifted. The rage was still there, burning like dragonfire, but his mind was working through it. Calculating. Strategic.

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