Zero's Perspective
Every clash left his arms heavier, every breath shorter. The first warden pressed relentlessly, claws a blur of pale light as if he intended to shred even the air itself. Sparks screeched against his blade with each parry, the sound grating in his ears, rattling through his skull. The corridor seemed to shrink around them—stone walls closing in, the torches guttering, every escape cut off by those relentless strikes.
Zero's hands trembled against the pressure. Sweat stung his eyes, yet he did not falter. He wasn't fighting to endure—he was waiting. Waiting for the one opening that would tip the scales.
A heartbeat later, Lilith's shadows snapped across the corridor like living serpents, tangling around the warden's wings and ankles. The devil roared, ripping through them with brute force, but that momentary hesitation was all Zero needed.
