Black water lapped gently against a broken throne, rippling around the figure that sat upon it. The air here was still, heavy with the weight of something unsaid. Sunny's posture was strangely calm—too calm for what he had just done. The Devil's shape was gone; he was once more human, or close enough to pass as one. His skin was pale, his eyes dark and hollow, and his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet enough to seem fragile.
"Whatever our souls are made of, hers and mine are the same."
His tone was neither angry nor mournful. It was flat, as though the words had been memorized long ago and repeated far too many times. He was staring into the distance, where the horizon curved and melted into darkness. There was no light here except the faint, silver shimmer that danced on the surface of the black sea.
"I used to think that I was something beautiful. Perfect, even. Not like Solvane, who could only find solace from suffering. But what am I, one who could only survive on a raft of corpses?"
No answer came, but Sunny continued speaking, as if someone sat beside him. His hand moved through the water, fingers twitching faintly, almost searching for a phantom presence.
"You know, I thought I hated her for killing Elyas. But I think I hated her before that, too."
He smiled faintly. It wasn't warm.
"She was too much like me. Too willing to see everything burn just to make it out of the fire herself."
He looked down at his reflection. The water below did not show a face — it showed the blurred, indistinct image of a man dissolving into ripples.
"I told myself it was vengeance. That's what Elyas would've wanted. And I'm definitely right. When am I not?"
His voice lowered, turning bitter.
"But that's not the kind of creature I am. All that I do is to satiate myself, and to do so, I would gladly allow others to starve. There's no space for two of me, so she and I were bound to kill eachother eventually."
Silence followed. The air felt heavier now, the horizon darker. He closed his eyes for a long moment, as if listening to someone speak. He sighed.
"Yeah, it'd be a pain to die just to kill her. I still have plenty to do and deal with."
He paused again, then laughed under his breath — a sound filled with exhaustion and something close to relief.
"But you didn't let me fall all the way, did you? Thank you for that. For not letting me drown."
A faint tremor ran through the black waters, and his body flickered, the edges of his form beginning to blur. The shadows around him pulsed, then began to fold inward, as though the world itself was being swallowed. His head tilted slightly, his gaze rising once more toward that nihilistic, endless horizon.
"Yes… I guess I'll just… continue to dream…"
***
Far away, in the realm of battle and ruin, the Devil hung suspended in the air like a dark effigy. Its limbs were stretched wide, four arms bound by invisible chains. The air trembled around it, reality bending beneath the sheer force radiating from its soul. The world below — the shattered fragments of the Chained Isle — shuddered in response, their the sky seeming as if it would fall.
Noctis stood at a distance, watching quietly. His once-beautiful face was marred with scars and old blood, one eye closed forever. The surviving one burned crimson beneath the glow of the dying moon.
He took a step forward, resting a hand on his sword, though he did not draw it. There was no point. The Devil was beyond saving, and if Noctis intervened now, he would be wounded so terribly… that he may have to live out the rest of his immortal life as a small bundle of cells.
In the distance, Solvane was kneeling amid the ruins, her face pale and bloodied. Her right arm seemed to have disappeared at some point, its whereabouts unknown. The mark of the Saints' battle scarred the entire sky. The wind howled, carrying with it the smell of burning stone.
Noctis grimaced.
"You mad fool… if you lose control, the Isles will go with you."
The air split open with a deafening crack. A surge of energy burst from Sunny's body, tearing through space itself. His three remaining Shadow Cores shattered one by one, their remnants dissolving into streaks of black and teal that streamed into the heavens. The fourth trembled violently, on the verge of collapse.
Noctis raised his hand to shield his face. His voice softened despite himself.
"Truly… unstylish until the very end, are you?"
The light intensified. For a single, terrifying moment, it seemed as though the Devil would explode into a sun of pure Destruction. And then…
Everything stopped.
The world fell into eerie stillness.
Within an unseen abyss, a violet four-pointed star gleamed. Its light dimmed for a split second, before violently blooming into a crimson supernova. From deep within the Devil's soul, traces of crimson lightning cleansed the saturated stains of Destruction, purifying the Shadow once more.
In the physical world, it seemed as if a bolt of red lightning stuck down as if it was a heavenly tribulation, striking one back down to the mortal realm.
Noctis's eye widened.
"What—"
Before he could finish, the Devil's body convulsed. The corrosive energy evaporated, leaving behind a flickering, barely coherent figure. The creature fell to its knees, its limbs shaking, smoke rising from its molten skin.
Then, something appeared beside it — a Memory.
It was a chest, ornate yet grotesque, its surface carved with a thousand hungry teeth. The Covetous Coffer shuddered, its lid creaking open with a sound like laughter.
Noctis stared, disbelief breaking through his usual calm.
"Doesn't it somewhat look like…?"
The Devil reached into the chest with a trembling hand, drawing out four gleaming knives — Ivory, Wooden, Ruby, and Obsidian. Even through the haze of Destruction, they shone with impossible clarity.
Noctis recognized them instantly.
Without hesitation, the Devil hurled the knives toward him. They cut through the air like streaks of light, finding themselves at Noctis's feet. The Coffer snapped shut, letting out a low growl before vanishing into the ether.
Noctis crouched down, picking up one of the knives. His reflection stared back from its edge — the same scarred, weary man he had long ago become.
He closed his eye for a moment, then looked back up at the Devil… no, just another human.
"Rest, Sunless. You've done enough."
Sunny swayed on his knees, suddenly seeming much too feeble for his monstrous body. He shrugged, throwing up a hand gesture Noctis had never seen before — one that involved only extending his index and middle finger while slightly spreading them apart.
Unsure, the sorcerer returned said gesture in kind.
Sunny sent him a thumbs-up, before inevitably collapsing.