The light around them cracked.
Not shattered—peeled. Folded back like paper soaked in stars. Caelus felt gravity reverse, then vanish. His flag flared once, and the world rearranged.
When the light dimmed, they stood at the center of an impossible field.
Flowers stretched endlessly beneath their feet—petals white as bone, swaying despite the still air. The earth was broken into platforms suspended in nothing, stitched together by threads of light that pulsed like veins. Above, not sky, but reflection—a mirrorworld of the field turned upside down, unmoving.
Alaris muttered, "Tacky."
Kairos laughed, voice light. "You say that like you weren't sobbing the last time we stepped into one of these."
"Sobbing because you fell and nearly took me with you."
Caelus ignored them both. His right eye flicked once—ticking. Clockwork lines etched faintly along his iris, ticking clockwise as if tracking a storm yet to begin.
Magic didn't work here.
His flag floated beside him, inert. His vision, however, did not rely on laws.
"This place is a veil," he murmured. "Unreachable even to Equilibrium now. I can't cast here."
"Good," Alaris said, drawing two daggers. "Been a while since I had to rely on muscle."
Kairos spun his silver spear and planted it on the ground with a grin. "Same."
Then something laughed.
It echoed from nowhere and everywhere.
"You came anyway," the voice said. Smooth. Slow. And ancient. "Even knowing what this place is."
From the far end of the floating field, petals scattered.
A figure walked forward.
Not massive. Not twisted. Just… off.
They wore armor made of mirrored scales, reflecting the three Aelenevs in broken images. Their cloak dragged behind them like oil-stained velvet. Two horns curved back from their head, and their hands ended in long claws. A scythe—jagged, asymmetrical—rested across their shoulder, the blade fractured like it had tasted too many worlds.
Their eyes were black voids rimmed in fire.
"I remember you," they said. "I remember the way you fought during the first war. I remember your flaws."
Caelus' grip tightened. "You shouldn't have access to those memories."
"They're not mine," the demon replied. "They are Varenth's. And They remember you very well, Caelus the Broken Flag."
Alaris tilted his head. "Wow. First name basis already?"
Kairos exhaled, stepping forward. "No need to explain anything. We've fought worse."
Caelus didn't blink. "No, we haven't."
The demon smiled.
"And yet you walk into this domain willingly. Stripped of your god-given strength. No magic. No teleportation. No miracles. Only steel and instinct."
Alaris rolled his shoulders. "Good thing I'm very good with steel."
They stepped forward in sync—Caelus with his flag-haft angled like a staff, Kairos with his spear spinning once, and Alaris loose-limbed but coiled.
"Very well," the demon lord said, voice lowering into something more guttural. "Let the trial begin."
The demon lord moved first—but only by a breath.
A dagger shot toward them, whistling like a meteor. Alaris had already flung it before the demon even finished speaking. It spun end over end, catching the firelight and reflecting the twisted sky. It didn't aim for the chest. It angled for the eyes.
The demon blinked.
Metal kissed bone.
The blade struck—but didn't pierce. It lodged in the left eye socket and hung there like a splinter in stone. The demon didn't flinch. They only raised a claw and snapped the hilt off.
Alaris whistled. "That usually kills people."
"We're not people," the demon replied calmly, hurling the broken dagger back.
Caelus caught it mid-air with the shaft of his flag, twisting sideways as the demon lunged forward. The scythe hissed in their grip, blurring through the air. Kairos met them head-on.
His spear swept low, then high—striking in arcs meant to unbalance, to read momentum. The demon moved like water, but sharper. Each block sang like cracked crystal.
Alaris rushed around the side—another blade already in hand, the broken handle still smoking on his belt. He didn't aim to kill. He aimed to tilt the fight.
Their formation was fluid.
Caelus didn't move much. He didn't need to.
His right eye ticked forward, the world flashing a second ahead. A flick of claw—blocked. A leap to strike—dodged. The scythe arced left—
"Kairos, back!"
But too late.
The blade sliced shallow across Kairos' neck.
Silver blood spilled—thin, glowing, already closing. He hissed in pain but twisted with it, using the force to launch his spear backward. It caught the demon in the hip. Not deep—but enough to crack the mirrored armor.
"Got you," Kairos muttered.
"No," Caelus corrected. "You will."
Five seconds passed.
Then the crack deepened.
The demon snarled for the first time.
Alaris danced around them, blades carving fast patterns in the air. He never stayed close for long—each strike followed by retreat. "Clock still ticking, Caelus?"
"Three seconds," Caelus replied.
"Good. That's all I need."
The demon turned, faster than before. Their scythe blurred—striking where Alaris had been. Only mist remained.
Kairos took the flank, spear snapping into their back.
Alaris reappeared above—his next dagger already drawn.
Caelus' eye ticked one last time.
"Now."
The flag swept upward—not magic, not cast, just raw momentum. It knocked the demon off their feet just as Alaris' blade came down.
It struck the cracked armor.
Shattered it.
The demon hissed in surprise, smoke curling from the wound. Their claw lashed out, but the three had already pulled back—reforming their stance.
"You fight," the demon said slowly, "like you've done this before."
"We have," Kairos replied, wiping blood from his neck.
Alaris smiled. "Try harder."
The ground didn't tremble.
But the air did.
The demon lord straightened. Black smoke curled upward from the crack in their armor. Not blood. Not flesh. Just void-stuff—coiling back into their form like it had no intention of escaping.
"You've improved," they said. "But you've grown soft."
They spun the scythe once, then let it go.
It didn't fall.
It floated—hovering midair—then rotated like it knew who to kill first.
Caelus' eyes narrowed. "They're shifting forms."
The scythe screamed through the air. No wind. Just noise.
Alaris ducked under the first pass. Kairos batted it aside with his spear, sparks blooming as it deflected. It vanished—then reappeared again, inches from Caelus' throat.
He leaned back.
Barely.
The scythe missed by less than a breath.
Caelus exhaled slowly. "Two seconds late. No—two seconds early."
The next throw would adjust. The demon was learning his pattern.
The scythe curved back toward the demon's outstretched hand.
Alaris cursed. "I hate when they get clever."
"Don't let it hover," Caelus said. "Force it to ground."
"How?"
"Distract them."
Easy to say.
Harder to do.
Kairos charged first this time, spear glowing with built-up heat from friction alone. His strikes weren't fast—but timed. He aimed for the demon's blind side, the edge of their broken armor.
Alaris circled left again, slicing deep across the ribs.
The demon let them.
Their smile never faded.
"You left us," they said—quiet enough that only Caelus heard.
Caelus' step faltered.
Just slightly.
"You vanished when the skies split," they continued. "When Trailblaze screamed and Equilibrium fell."
His grip on the flag tightened. "You weren't there."
"We were," the demon said. "All of us."
The scythe spun again—and this time, it struck Kairos in the thigh.
He dropped to one knee, jaw clenched.
"Kairos—" Alaris started, but the demon stepped forward, speaking louder now.
"You remember the fire?" they asked. "The citadel burning?"
"No," Alaris snapped. "Shut up."
The demon's voice twisted into something layered—male and female and neither. "And you, Kairos. You remember the walls. The screaming."
Kairos threw a knife of light.
It phased through.
Caelus raised the flag—and with a sharp motion, brought down a field of spears. They rained from above like falling stars, forcing the demon to move. Not dodge. Move.
It broke their rhythm.
The scythe dropped to the ground.
Kairos lunged and kicked it away, staggering slightly from blood loss.
The demon paused. "You want silence, Caelus?"
Caelus didn't respond.
They tilted their head. "Then why did you bring them?"
No answer.
But inside—something shifted.
Caelus' right eye ticked again.
Not forward this time.
Not five seconds.
But inward.
The trial is watching me.
The realization hit like cold water. The landscape wasn't just dead—it was reactive. Not alive. Not sentient. But purposeful.
This fight wasn't just a test.
It was a memory being weighed.
The demon's body contorted.
Not broken—expanded.
Spines grew like twisting thorns from their back. The scythe, now recalled, extended into a double-bladed staff. Their legs no longer bent like a person's. Their arms split once, then again—four in total, all gripping a different form of weapon: blade, chain, staff, claw.
Kairos muttered, "They're evolving."
"No," Alaris said. "They're remembering."
The air cracked. The flowered ground blackened where the demon stepped, floating islands quivering in orbit. Each footfall pulled the field slightly inward, like gravity had shifted.
"Why haven't we used our spells yet?" Kairos asked. "We've fought worse."
Caelus didn't respond.
Because he knew.
This domain wasn't just suppressing magic. It was rewriting it.
Anything cast was twisted. Bent toward entropy. Even the weapons they conjured came at a cost.
Kairos lowered his spear. "It's watching."
Alaris narrowed his eyes. "The trial."
The demon didn't speak anymore.
They moved forward—slow, deliberate, letting their new weight carry dread in its wake.
Alaris flicked his wrist, daggers forming midair—but instead of flying straight, one veered. Another dulled mid-flight. The third struck the demon—but instead of piercing, it melted like wax.
Kairos tried to intercept—but his spear stopped mid-motion.
Frozen. Not by the demon.
By the space itself.
"Rules," Caelus muttered. "That's how this domain works. No spells. No miracles. No rewritten fate."
Alaris gritted his teeth. "Then we're walking toward death."
"No," Caelus said, eyes glowing now—his right eye like a ticking star.
"We bend rules," he continued. "I break them."
The air responded.
Not with warmth.
With resistance.
The ground pushed back. The mist around them solidified like hands, trying to hold his feet still. But Caelus raised his flag—slowly, with one hand—and light bled from the sigils etched into its shaft.
"Magic's disabled," Alaris said sharply. "You said it yourself."
"I know," Caelus replied. "But I'm not casting."
The flag struck the earth.
A pulse burst outward—not flame, not lightning, but sound.
The very field shuddered.
The trial shuddered.
The demon screamed.
Not in pain—but in fury.
"You cheat!" their voice split the air. "You defy this domain!"
Caelus' voice was quiet.
"I defy many things."
Cracks formed along the horizon.
The sky shimmered.
Alaris' eyes widened. "You're breaking the Bleak…"
Kairos stepped beside him. "Is that even possible?"
"No," Caelus said. "But I'm doing it anyway."
And with that, he raised the flag again—one more swing—and the ground beneath them fractured like glass.
The demon launched forward as the cracks deepened—its voice a chorus of screeching wills. Each step pulled gravity tighter. The field warped.
But before it could reach Caelus, two blurs cut across its path.
Alaris first—daggers flung wide in a spiral, forcing the demon to dodge. Not to wound. To redirect.
Then Kairos surged low, spear sweeping beneath the demon's legs and striking the floating ground. The impact sent a shockwave up through the beast's limbs.
The demon roared.
"You shouldn't exist!" it screamed. "None of you should!"
"We get that a lot," Alaris muttered.
Caelus didn't speak.
His eyes were closed.
The sigils on his flag dimmed, flickered, then reignited—turquoise light pouring upward in ribbons. Around his body, the air grew still. Almost sacred.
Kairos turned. "He's doing it."
Alaris tensed. "The Pneuma…"
The demon charged again, now reckless, maddened by the breaking rules.
But the two stepped in unison.
They didn't need orders.
Alaris cut the beast's shoulder—his daggers, now glowing faint brown, sliced without touching. Judgment through measure.
Kairos thrust the spear into its gut—silver aura flaring. Momentum without pause.
And behind them, Caelus raised the flag high.
"Don't let it touch him!" Alaris shouted.
The demon, shrieking, launched chains toward Caelus.
Kairos broke one mid-air.
Alaris shattered the other with a precise throw.
And in that breathless moment—
Caelus opened his right eye.
The ticking stopped.
A single second bloomed into five.
He saw everything. The collapse. The beast. The threads of future breaking.
And he chose one.
With his final ounce of strength, he raised the banner high.
And whispered—
"Pneuma: Dying Light."