The city burned.
Flames licked at the sky like vengeful spirits, casting long shadows across the blood-soaked cobblestones. In the heart of the chaos, Commander Nui stood over the broken bodies of his own soldiers—men he had trained, fought beside, and now slaughtered. Their faces flashed in his fractured mind, their voices pleading in his ears even as his mutated claws crushed another skull.
His armor groaned, its plates buckling against the grotesque swell of muscle and bone. The man who had once led these soldiers was gone, buried beneath Medusa's corruption. But for a fleeting second, as his remaining eye fixed on a sobbing private crawling through the gore, something human flickered in the crimson ichor of his gaze.
"Commander...?" the boy choked out, recognizing the insignia on Nui's twisted pauldron. Tears, snot, and drool spilled down his face as he whimpered, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps.
Thud. Thud.
Nui's footsteps echoed like funeral drums as he stalked forward, his monstrous claws flexing. He reached down and hauled the soldier up by his collar, bringing him face-to-face with his own nightmare.
"Ahhh!!!" Medusa moaned in ecstasy, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Oh, you sweet, stubborn thing. Still hoping for mercy?" Her nails traced his cheek, drawing blood. "Your commander begged too, before I remade him. Would you like to hear how he sounded?"
"P-please... please..." the soldier begged, his voice cracking. A snout-like protrusion burst from his nose, the first sign of his body rebelling against Medusa's corruption.
"Shhhh." She pressed a finger to his lips, her smile widening. "Don't do that. You'll make me mad."
"Do you want to make me mad?" she whispered.
The soldier choked back his sobs, his body trembling.
"Let's play a little game," Medusa crooned. "Do you want to be like Nui? Or do you want to die?" She giggled, as if the question were a child's riddle.
The soldier's lips moved soundlessly. He had no answer—only terror. It was either the devil or the devil.
"Too late," Medusa sighed.
"Pop his head, Nui."
Nui raised his clawed hand—
SCHLICK!
A violet scythe carved through the air, severing Nui's arm at the shoulder. Black ichor sprayed in an arc as the limb thudded to the ground.
GRAWWWL!
Nui let out a guttural roar, clutching the stump where his arm used to be—his regeneration failing to activate.
Nui's roar of pain shook the ruins.
Then—
BOOM!!!
The earth quaked as Lord Rikash Grimmjaw landed amidst the carnage, his armored boots cratering the street. The violet scythe returned to his grip, its edge dripping with Nui's blackened ichor. The sight of Cliffhaven's ruins—his city, the one he'd sworn to protect after stealing it from his brother—sent a fresh wave of fury through his veins.
"You are all despicable," he growled, not just to Medusa, but to the ghosts of his own failures.
Medusa's smirk returned. "Yet you dined with us, Lord Rikash. Shared wine. Swore oaths." Her laugh was a razor drawn over bone. "Does the Hand's brand still burn on your skin, or did you carve that out too?"
Rikash's left hand spasmed—the scar beneath his gauntlet throbbing. A mistake I regret with every fiber of my being.
The aura around his scythe intensified, the weapon humming with a sound like a dying man's last breath.
"Too late for regrets now," Medusa sneered.
She flicked her wrist. "Kill him."
Nui hesitated.
For the first time since his transformation, the beast flinched. Its remaining eye fixed on Rikash—on the aura of death that clung to him like a shroud.
Medusa's smirk vanished.
"What—?"
Then she saw it.
The stump where Nui's arm had been wasn't regenerating. The flesh was blackened, the edges curling like burned paper.
Rikash's power wasn't just cutting. It was erasing.
---
Nui charged, his remaining claws slashing in a frenzy. Rikash pivoted, his scythe flashing in a violet crescent. The blade bit deep into Nui's chest, and this time, the wound stayed. Black ichor bubbled as the edges of the gash withered.
Medusa struck from the shadows, her fingers elongating into razor-tipped lances aimed for Rikash's kidneys.
Rikash's aura flexed. A shroud of violet energy erupted around him, and Medusa's fingers rotted on contact, the flesh turning black and crumbling. She recoiled with a shriek, her regeneration stuttering.
Nui barreled into Rikash like a siege engine, slamming him through a crumbling watchtower. Stone and timber rained down as they grappled in the rubble. Rikash drove his knee into Nui's gut, then yanked his head back by the horns.
His scythe swept upward—and Nui's jaw tore free, spinning through the air before disintegrating into ash.
Medusa, her hands now restored but twitching, ripped a chunk of the earth free and hurled it. The massive slab of stone and mortar shattered midair as Rikash cleaved through it, the fragments dissolving before they could strike.
Nui, half its face gone, lunged again. Rikash sidestepped, his scythe carving through its remaining arm. The limb hit the ground—and dustened.
Medusa screamed in frustration. Her body convulsed, her skin splitting as dozens of bone spikes erupted from her flesh. She flung them like arrows.
Rikash spun his scythe, the blade humming as it deflected each projectile. One grazed his cheek—the wound festered instantly, his skin graying. He growled and pressed his palm to the injury. The death in his aura consumed the corruption, leaving only a scar.
Nui, furious and desperate, launched himself at Rikash, jaws wide open, trying to swallow him whole.
Rikash didn't move. Instead, he extended his free hand, palm outward.
[Reaper Art: Dirge of the Fallen]
A pulse of violet energy exploded from his palm, slamming into Nui's chest. The shockwave tore through Nui's ribs, leaving them hollowed and brittle.
The beast collapsed, coughing black ichor.
"This is your fate, my friend," Rikash said. "To rot from within."
Medusa retaliated with a flurry of razor-sharp bone daggers, conjured from the corpses littering the battlefield. They rained down like hail.
Rikash spun his scythe overhead, creating a vortex of violet wind that shredded the projectiles.
Then, with a single leap, he was upon her again.
"No more tricks," he growled.
He slashed diagonally across her chest.
She screamed from the pain. The wound blackened, the edges curling inward as if burned.
"Impossible," she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. Her regeneration wasn't working.
Nui, barely alive, tried one last surge of strength. He summoned the remnants of his demonic power, attempting to merge with the shadows and strike from behind.
But Rikash turned without looking.
"I see your desperate attempts, old friend," he said. "They're fraying."
Then—
[Reaper Art: Final Death]
With a final motion, he swept his scythe in a perfect arc.
SNAP.
Nui's scream was cut short. His body disintegrated into ash, scattered by the wind.
Medusa staggered back, bleeding from multiple wounds that refused to heal. Her breath was ragged, her confidence shattered, her eyes widening in fear.
Rikash raised his scythe—
Then—
CRACK!
A fist like a battering ram sent him hurtling through three buildings. Falkore landed beside Medusa, cracking his neck.
"Took you long enough," she spat, clutching her wound.
Falkore grinned, his filed teeth glinting. "Had to finish my snack."
Rikash emerged from the rubble, his armor cracked, blood dripping from his brow. But his scythe still burned violet.
Falkore cracked his knuckles. "Let's dance, Reaper."