Isla watched the exchange between Calimitrin and Meissier. His description of the Demon King stunned her. Monster. The word echoed within her. She had heard the word used before, far too often, but why now?

Yet, the usage fell short for his reaction shocked her the most. Here she stood, staring at the man who revolted against such a decree. Her gaze remained fastened upon Calimitrin as he laughed at Meissier, his face souring at the Demon's insanity.

Calimitrin reined in his laughter and the lines framing his face hardened. The fire dwelling within his crimson irises brightened, fueled by disorder. His defiance against all returned, stronger and deadlier than the norm, shaping his raw hatred.

Yet, his anger was directed. Not upon Meissier, the soon dead God, but the Gods altogether.

Calimitrin flipped the polearm, grabbing the hilt. With a strong arm, he flung Meissier's weapon, the blade driving into the far wall.

Without sparing a distraction, he raised his greatsword and launched a swift slash to Meissier's head, ending the God.

Time snapped his last emotion. Framing the picture was his white, stricken skin and wide frenzied eyes. If the light never faded from his amber eyes, and the pool of blood from his severed neck never appeared, she would have thought he would move.

Still, just another God.

"Isla?" Lucifer questioned.

She flinched and her gaze shifted from Meissier to him. He stared back, his hand grasping the narrow stair railing leading to her father. Beyond Lucifer, Calimitrin's black cloak peeked from the corridor before disappearing.

Isla sighed, her breath's long release stretching her side. Her free hand brushed the shallow ache, her fingers bearing her red life. She rolled the sticky substance, feeling the consistency give. An odd trouble, considering her normal constitution, but where did the fault lie?

She searched the room, narrowing on a forsaken blade The inscriptions still glowed without their user. The symbols contained blood and time in sequential order. From there, they linked to the core. The two combined cracked her current conundrum. But how long would this last?

Keeping pressure on the cut, she walked towards Lucifer. "I'm fine, let's go."

They increased their pace, returning to Calimitrin's side. The corridor extended straight, the walls empty, sullen and shadowed. Yet, a vivid flare directed their path forward, the ball floating and distant, but never reachable.

The fluctuating glow diminished then transformed the corridor from darkness to light. The shift transferred their party into a wide circular room. Tapestries blanketed the room, their colors vibrant against the standing army of one.

But the colors and decorations failed to soften what sat behind the army—her father.

Unlike their first meeting, he wore platinum studded armor, but the light reflected off his attire much like a refined gem. Stunning really, if she ignored his murderous and manipulative nature, and how he ordered the death of an entire city of innocents to reach one child.

Even worse, as if chained, both Skye and Rein protected his sides. Had their earlier betrayal been swept away, or did he scheme further, planning to face them against her?

"Quite the party here," Lucifer mumbled, pulling her attention from the cold chill crawling up her spine.

She smirked. "You're starting to sound like Asterick."

"Someone needs to keep his spirit alive."

"He isn't dead yet."

"True."

Osiris interrupted their minor conversation with a slow, continuous, clap.

He paused his display, standing up with regal movements. "Such power. You've made our defenses seem inadequate and frail. We must thank you," he declared with a slight bow.

He waited, expecting some kind of retort or response to his outlandish claim. However, Calimitrin remained silent, his greatsword propped on his shoulder. Lucifer followed suit and merely shrugged.

"We see a proper conversation is beneath us," Osiris voiced before changing topics. "Isla, your recklessness has impressed us. After following your movements for so long, we hadn't expected such an irrational decision."

"People change, but you should know that best," she taunted.

"Ah, yes, quite true. Some would say like mother like daughter. If the first betrays you the second will as well."

Isla clenched her jaw, her body tensing. How she would give to scream obscenities.

"Now Isla, our kindness extends far and wide, there's still one chance for redemption. The foul creature beside you, kill him, and we'll consider your childish defiance null. The Demons are not to be trusted, remember the cost."

Calimitrin chuckled, driving his Zweihänder deep into the floor.

"A foul creature, huh?" Isla mocked and threw her head in Calimitrin's direction. "At least he doesn't hide behind his men, or a child."

Osiris straightened his stance, the welcoming air dissolved. "There's nothing dirty about using numbers Isla, the weak fight together, we must in order to survive. And even so, you alone could have faced me, but you abandoned that chance. Now look at us here, how does this scene before us make you and I any different from one another. We are similar, my daughter."

His dramatic act continued to unfold, laughable at best, but laughter forsook his sham.

"Insane," Lucifer muttered, his irises burning bright.

Isla shifted, staring at the final obstacle—the army of Gods. They returned her look with dead paned faces and distant gazes. No emotion flooded their constitution or challenged their actions, an appearance of complete surrender.

Osiris relaxed, his back nestled against the large throne chair atop his pedestal. "Kill them."

Isla watched the order overtake the Gods, their swords drawing and bodies charging. She moved herself behind Calimitrin alongside Lucifer, defending the flank.

In waves, the Gods launched themselves at their weakened group of three. She fended off blow after blow, their weight encumbering each attack. The pulsing strain sent a probing force to her shallow wound, the cut throbbing non-stop.

Her body moaned and creaked. With each slash, her arms numbed further. Left, right, down, up: the never ending motions desensitized her mind and reactions. Her eyes became entrance, following the glowing weapon tips.

But a blue-hued sword glinted past her face, the strike glanced past her foot, an inch clear. She shortened her motions, her attacks minimal, but her breathing hitched and her body swelled.

The next downward slash nicked her sword arm. She winced from the slight sting but countered the strike. Yet, her attack ended mid-swing, transforming to defense. Her shift happened one second late as a blade sliced her leg, driving deep.

Her frantic gaze searched for relief. One opening. One distraction. And she could breathe, but blows still rained upon her, crumbling her defenses.

Another sword grazed her cheek. She parried the next, but their weapons blurred together. Her weak defenses bore the brunt, small flicks coating her body.

Water arched over the enemies heads, the magic carrying momentum. She forced aura out, but the trickling stream failed to meet her needs. Isla threw her weapon up as the water whizzed towards her. But her body lurched sideways before impact, the water evaporating into steam.

The white cloud encapsulating her cleared and her gaze shot right. Lucifer kneeled on the ground, bent over with one arm grasping his weapon for support and the other covering his side.

She scrambled towards him, pushing his hand away. The compressed water tore through the skin and muscle of Lucifer's lower chest. The magic created a red mangy gouge, the skin flaking away.

"Why?" she croaked.

"You know why," he murmured. Creases marked his face and shadows underlined his eyes.

A rim of fire surrounded them, stopping the immediate attacks. Beyond the flimsy barrier, the Gods watched the exchange without a riot of action. She could feel their eyes questioning her actions; why should a God feel sympathy for a Demon?

Calimitrin backed into her, standing close to shield against range attacks. Holes and cuts ripped through the once perfect cape he wore. Even from the side, she could see the droplets of blood hailing the red smeared floor.

"How touching. Get it over with," Osiris commanded from his throne.

Lucifer wobbled upright, using his longsword for support. "Let me patch myself and I'll be ready. It's not over yet," Lucifer voiced.

"You're quite positive given the situation," Isla mused.

Her father's command forced his allies to break the fire ring, their bodies diving through the flames.

"Well, it could be worse."

Isla chewed her lip. It could be worse, but right now, worse looked right. Surrounded, outnumbered and with no way out, how much more was worse?

A/N: Almost at the end! Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter.