Beyond the temple ruins, a crimson storm raged, as if the entire night sky had been ignited by Ileia and Casas's union. Shattered stars plummeted from the vault of heaven, burning through the cloud-shrouded night. Obsidian walls cracked and trembled, a sign that the old gods' order was collapsing.
Ileia stood, her naked body draped in the lingering spirit fire of Casas's soul. Every inch of her skin burned; every sense had been remolded at the intersection of desire and power. She was no longer a trembling heir to a kingdom, but a flame queen who had detonated prophecy with passion.
Casas stared at her, his gaze hollow yet divine: "You have offered your flesh to me, Ileia. Now you shall ignite the true war."
She did not reply, only tilted her head back and pressed her burning fingertips to her collarbone. Flames surged into her flesh, searing pain exploding in her bones like thunder. It was the mark of the phoenix scion, fully awakened through love and summoning.
"She is remaking herself," Ares muttered from the shadows in the distance, watching this unfathomable miracle with cold eyes. He licked his lips, a blasphemous light flickering in his gaze. "A queen worth conquering."
He waved his hand, and the Cracked Moon King's holy mission emerged from the night mist—seven figures cloaked in purple and black, each wielding a silver blade for sacrifice. They were the deadliest hounds of the netherworld, offering unbridled desire and fallen gods to their lunar king.
Casas spun suddenly, his gaze hardening: "Dare you trespass on my domain?"
Ares stepped forward without fear: "You are but a lingering spirit. And she shall be my blood wedding sacrifice."
Before the words faded, the holy mission surged from the shadows. Divine arts and curses intertwined into a purple moon ring, seeking to imprison Ileia. Her body still trembled with the aftershocks of climax, knees weak, yet in an instant she spread her arms, flames erupting from within like a dance of death.
"I am no one's gift," she . Flames converged into a spear, slicing through darkness to pierce the mission's heart.
Casas snorted, his warrior spirit solidifying again, molten greatsword in hand. "You're too late, Ares—she belongs to flame now."
The battle blazed as fiercely as passion. Ileia, cloaked in fire and silver light, weaved between spears and spells. Sweat on her skin steamed into mist, and her pupils reflected the pleasure of slaughter. Each strike released the tension of heightened desire, a dance between love and death.
Ares finally revealed his true form, his cloak transforming into a nest of snakes whose fangs spat illusion poison at Casas's soul. He had no intention of leaving alive. He only sought to push this "Blazing Moon Sacrifice" to its climax—to make the phoenix maiden tremble, moan, and fall in his palm.
Ileia rolled sideways, spear tip stabbing at Ares's chest. The man laughed, seizing her wrist to pin her beneath him. His kiss was like a blade, aggressive and ferocious. His aura, unlike Casas's flames, was cold, sickly, yet dreamlike. His tongue invaded her mouth as if to steal her very soul.
"Insolence!" Casas roared, sword energy splitting the sky like thunder to drive Ares back.
But Ileia did not flinch.
She licked blood from her lip, her gaze burning like purgatory: "I won't flee—not from either of you. None shall control me."
Naked, she stood between the two divine beings, flames and moon shadows clashing around her. She spread her arms like a true sacrifice, yet she was the mistress of this erotic chaos.
She pressed her lips to Casas, then her body to Ares. The entanglement of fire and ice was no longer possession, but a dominion ritual she commanded.
"If this chaotic world must be ignited by me, let it begin tonight," she murmured, her eyes filled with desire and destruction.
Behind her, the old gods' murals crumbled completely. A hybrid phoenix feather drifted down on the wind—a sign she was no longer 's exiled outcast, but a queen who plundered fate itself.