Lyra's breath hitched as she felt the unmistakable presence of her sister. A warmth spread through her chest, a sensation she had not felt in what seemed like an eternity. Her emerald eyes widened for a brief moment before a fierce grin stretched across her face.
"Nerina…" she whispered, gripping her green sword tighter. "You're here."
Hope surged through her veins like wildfire. The weight pressing down on her, the relentless waves of demon generals, wyvern knights, and the crushing might of the Demon Kings—none of it seemed so daunting anymore.
She surged forward, her movements turning sharper, faster. Her blade carved through the air, slicing into the enemy ranks with a renewed vigor. The winds obeyed her call, forming deadly spirals that slashed through the approaching forces. Her strikes no longer held only the desperation of survival but the burning desire to push back, to reclaim control.
The five Demon Kings sensed the shift. Their monstrous eyes narrowed as they realized their mistake—allowing her hope to reignite.
"She's gaining ground!" one of them snarled.
"Then we strike her down before the other Godgear user arrives!" another commanded.
Two of the Demon Kings, who had been observing the battle from the shadows, now entered the fray, joining the five already pressuring her. Seven in total now focused their full wrath upon her.
Lyra's movements became a blur of steel and wind, dodging, parrying, countering—but the sheer ferocity of their combined attacks was overwhelming. She bit her lip as a sharp claw tore into her side, another blow knocking her back. Blood dripped onto the battlefield, but her grin never wavered.
Across the battlefield, Nerina's heart pounded as she saw her sister struggle. The weight of their reunion, the shock of seeing Lyra after all these years, was nearly overwhelming. But she had no time for sentimentality.
"The 2000-unit squad, return to the city immediately!" Nerina ordered, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Reinforce the gates, and prepare for the next wave. I will assist Lyra."
She didn't wait for a response. The moment her orders were given, she charged forward, her lance tearing through enemies like a storm given form. Her presence was a force of nature, a tidal wave that crashed into the battlefield.
The city's defense towers fired upon the horde relentlessly, providing cover fire for the retreating troops. Explosions rocked the battlefield, sending debris and demon bodies flying.
But none of it mattered to Nerina. She had only one target.
Her sister.
She saw Lyra, barely holding back the relentless assault of the Demon Kings. A surge of power filled her veins, and with one swift motion, she cast a massive water spell.
A torrential wave surged forward, slamming into the back of one of the Demon Kings, sending him sprawling to the ground. The massive being roared in pain as the divine-infused water sizzled against his dark flesh.
"I'M HERE, SISTER! HOLD ON!" Nerina's voice rang through the battlefield.
Lyra turned, eyes wide, before a grin stretched across her face.
"Welcome back, Sister."
Back-to-back, they stood together, two forces of nature ready to bring ruin to their enemies.
Nerina smirked. "I missed this."
Lyra chuckled, spinning her blade. "Then let's make them regret standing against us."
The Demon Kings hesitated.
"The Divine Duo… together again?!" one of them hissed.
"This wasn't in the plan! We need reinforcements now! If we don't, our assault will fail!" another growled.
"The Silent Death Duo…" the third muttered in horror.
It had been centuries, but the legends remained. The two sisters, once feared across the realms for their seamless coordination and devastating attacks, were now reunited. And the battlefield would tremble beneath them.
Meanwhile, deep within the dark fortress, Jareth's battle had reached its climax. The abomination he faced was unlike anything he had ever encountered. It twisted, reformed, adapted—an entity of pure nightmare.
But Jareth had found its weakness.
The floor beneath them was slick with its essence, its dark tendrils spreading across the walls like a living virus.
Jareth closed his eyes, focusing. Heat swirled around him, the very air igniting from the sheer intensity of his power.
"DRAGON'S WRATH!"
A blinding inferno erupted from his form, consuming the entire chamber. The heat rivaled the sun, turning the battlefield into a hellscape of fire and destruction.
The abomination shrieked as the flames devoured it, its body melting away, its screams echoing through the cavernous halls.
As the flames subsided, Jareth stood amidst the destruction, his body glowing like molten lava, the aura of Bahamut surging through him.
A deep chuckle echoed in his mind.
"You remind me of my youth, Jareth," Bahamut mused.
Jareth smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Then let's keep pushing forward."
With renewed determination, he sprinted toward the next floor.
Back at the battlefield, the sky darkened as a new presence loomed.
More reinforcements were coming.
But now, the enemy was afraid.
For the first time in centuries… the Silent Death Duo had returned.
And the war had only just begun.