The darkness felt suffocating, a thick, oppressive veil that weighed heavily on Hope's chest. His breath came in ragged gasps as he slowly fell from the shadows, his legs crumpling beneath him as he hit the cold, stone floor with a muted thud. The black smoke that trailed from his wounds swirled in the air, dissipating into the void, but even Hope could feel it—he was running low, his essence nearly exhausted. His body was battered, his strength nearly depleted, and the pain was nearly unbearable, every breath a struggle.
Yet, even through the haze of exhaustion, Hope's eyes locked onto the figure standing before him. The devil. It stood there, towering over him, its armor cracked and scarred from their battle. Black smoke poured from its wounds—wounds Hope had inflicted. The creature was bleeding, but not blood. No, its body was disintegrating in a way that made Hope realize that they were both running out of time. The devil was fading just as he was.
A grim smile twisted across Hope's face despite the blood pouring from his cracked lips. If I die here, it won't be for nothing, he thought bitterly. I'll make sure you go down with me, you bastard.
The devil's eyes glowed faintly through the slit in its helmet, the eerie red light flickering. It stared at him, its expression unreadable, but there was something in its movements now that suggested fatigue, a slowing of its usual grace. Hope could see it. The thing was no longer as fast, no longer as fluid. Its once terrifying speed had become sluggish, its every step a struggle. It was clear: the devil was running out of time too.
Hope exhaled, lifting his odachi with a strained, but steady grip. The weapon felt heavy in his hands, but the weight of it grounded him in the present. He couldn't afford to lose focus. Not now. Not with this chance.
Come on... come at me... Hope's mind screamed at the creature, a fire igniting in his chest, fighting back the crushing exhaustion threatening to drag him into oblivion. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the odachi, and he let out a slow, labored breath.
He looked the devil in the eye and called out, his voice hoarse, but defiant, "Hey, bastard! You tired yet?"
The devil said nothing, but its gaze locked onto Hope as it took a single, deliberate step forward. Hope's heart skipped a beat as the air thickened with tension, the distant sound of his own labored breathing cutting through the silence between them.
Without warning, the devil surged forward, its great sword raised high, its motion slow but deadly. Hope's pulse quickened as he moved to intercept, his odachi raised in preparation. The devil's massive sword came down in a crushing arc, its edge glowing faintly with malevolent energy. Hope barely managed to dodge, twisting his body to the side, his movement desperate and haggard.
The impact of the devil's blade left a shockwave that rattled Hope's bones, but he didn't let it throw him off. He retaliated immediately, slashing his odachi upward, aiming for the devil's side. The strike hit its mark, and the devil let out a deep, guttural roar as the blade scraped across its dark armor, leaving a jagged gash. The black smoke poured out from the wound like a sickly mist, but still, the devil didn't falter.
Hope gritted his teeth, his legs shaky beneath him as he staggered back, his hand throbbing from the force of the clash. His entire body screamed for relief, but he couldn't stop. Not now. He couldn't afford to show weakness.
The devil, too, took a step back, its body pulsing as though the blow had drained it. But it didn't retreat—no, it was a predator, a force of nature, and despite the pain, it would never give up the fight.
Hope could see it now. The creature was slower, its movements more methodical and deliberate, as if every swing of its sword drained more and more of its strength. It was still dangerous, still deadly, but it wasn't the unstoppable force it had once been. That was his opening. That was the crack in the armor he had been waiting for.
Hope surged forward, pushing himself past the exhaustion, moving as quickly as his battered body could allow. He struck again, his odachi slashing through the air. The devil attempted to parry, but its response was sluggish, its sword only catching Hope's blade with a half-hearted swing. Hope used the momentum to twist, slashing across the devil's armor once more. This time, the strike was deeper, carving a visible line across its chest.
The devil staggered, its sword lowering slightly, the impact of Hope's blade weakening its stance. Hope didn't give it time to recover. With a snarl, he lunged again, his blade cutting through the air. The devil tried to raise its sword to block, but it was too slow. Hope's odachi found its mark once more, slicing into the creature's side with a sickeningly sharp sound. The black smoke poured from the wound, but it wasn't enough to heal it. Hope could see it now—the devil was hurt. Real damage was being done.
The creature grunted, its steps faltering as it tried to pull back, but Hope was relentless. He was on it in an instant, slashing and cutting, each strike finding its mark. His movements were no longer the perfect, elegant strikes of a skilled warrior—they were savage, born from desperation, each one powered by the burning fire of a man who refused to die. The devil's movements were slower now, more erratic, and Hope took advantage of every slip.
With every hit, the creature seemed to weaken, its once majestic armor now marred by Hope's relentless assault. Black smoke poured from every wound, a steady stream, as if its very existence was being torn apart.
But Hope couldn't stop. He couldn't slow down. If he hesitated, if he gave the devil any time to recover, he knew the outcome. His heart pounded in his chest, the blood pulsing through his ears, and every breath felt like it could be his last. His legs were unsteady, his vision blurry, but he pressed forward, gritting his teeth through the pain.
The devil's sword swung down once more, but it was weak, its timing off. Hope sidestepped and, with one final, powerful movement, brought his odachi up into the devil's ribs, sinking the blade deep into its side.
The creature let out a strangled howl, its body jerking violently. Hope stood there, panting, his hand shaking as he pulled the blade free. The devil staggered back, black smoke pouring from its open wounds, but its movements grew sluggish. It was still trying to raise its sword, but its strength was gone, its once terrifying presence now a flickering shadow of its former self.
Hope could feel it, too. His vision was starting to blur, and the pain from his injuries was unbearable, but he couldn't afford to stop now. He was close. He had to finish this.
In a final, desperate surge, Hope raised his odachi and rushed forward, his feet pounding against the stone floor. With every ounce of strength left, he drove the blade deep into the devil's chest, his body following the motion until his forehead was pressed against the creature's cold armor. The devil gave one last, ear-splitting roar, and then, with a final tremor, it fell.
The air grew still.
Hope stood there, panting heavily, blood pouring from his wounds. His body screamed in protest, but he didn't move. He just stared at the fallen devil, his vision swimming as he fought to stay conscious. The creature was finally down, but Hope knew he was barely holding on.
And then, as the shadows began to fade from his eyes, Hope's body crumpled to the ground, darkness swallowing him whole.
He had won.