The Saint struck with the fury of a thousand broken oaths—a devastating force of power and precision, the embodiment of a moral paradox.
Marius, the Black Cardinal, met the charge with a surge of raw demonic energy, unleashing thick, writhing Shadow Tendrils from his staff. But the Cardinal was prepared for the Executioner, not for the Truth.
The Saint shifted the balance of his fused blade, focusing the shimmering white light of Veritas. The terrifying purity of the blade instantly countered the demonic shadows. The Shadow Tendrils didn't just burn; they recoiled, as the pure Truth found the flaw in their chaotic power.
The Saint unleashed a blinding sequence of strikes. He was not relying on raw strength, but on the flawless, elegant geometry of the combined blade. He moved faster than Lyra could track, forcing Marius to defend against an attack that blended Judgment with Truth.
"You are flawed, Executioner!" Marius shrieked, backing away from the terrifying blade. "Your Veritas is tainted by your sin! You cannot win!"
"My sin is my choice!" the Saint roared, pressing the attack. The crimson of Sanctus was now dominant, striking the ground with a focused Judgment Wave that vaporised the Serpent's Altar into dust and bone fragments. The remaining cultists scattered, their fanaticism dissolving into panic.
Lyra realised the crucial weakness. Marius's true self—his demonic essence—was protected by the fanatical energy of his mortal vessel. A killing blow would be unjust murder, fracturing the Saint's moral integrity and his core, but merely disarming the vessel would allow the demon to flee and report to Lucifera.
He needs to break the vessel without committing the sin.
"Azael!" Lyra screamed, pushing past the debris, running toward the fight. "Use the Truth! Shatter the shell! Don't claim the soul!"
The Saint heard her. He saw the logic of her command—a surgical strike that was morally sound and strategically lethal. He needed to be the Executioner who refused the final, sinful act.
He abruptly checked his movement, drawing the raw power back from the blade's edge. He focused the energy entirely on the white light of Veritas.
With a final, terrifyingly precise strike, the Saint brought the unified blade down, not on Marius's body, but on the serpentine staff—the conduit for the demon's power.
The white light of Veritas met the dark metal, and the staff exploded in a silent, blinding burst of crystalline fragments. The shock was too great for Marius's mortal shell.
The Black Cardinal staggered, his face contorting in an expression of pure, agonising defeat. His mortal body began to dissolve, collapsing inward. A thin, black wisp of smoke—the demonic essence—shot upward, escaping the destroyed vessel.
"You have won a reprieve, Executioner," the demonic voice echoed, thin and mocking, carried on the wind. "Lucifera knows the Fragment's vessel. And she knows your name. This is not over."
The essence vanished into the high atmosphere. The empty robes of Marius crumpled to the ground, the final physical remnant of the Black Cardinal gone.
Silence descended upon The Threshold, broken only by the wind whistling through the shattered metal of the bridge. The Saint stood over the remains, the powerful energy that had fueled the duel beginning to recede.
He took one step, then staggered, his core protesting the catastrophic power consumption. The crack, which had been perfectly sealed by the energy cells and Lyra's touch, threatened to rip open again. He lowered the heavy, unified blade to the deck, his silver eyes dulling with exhaustion.
Lyra reached him instantly, rushing past the debris and the smoking remains of the altar. She didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around his waist, pressing her body against his chest, holding him upright.
The physical contact was an immediate, overwhelming torrent of reciprocal sensation. The cold fire of the forbidden flame erupted, but this time, it was different. Lyra channelled her focus, her entire will, not just to stabilise, but to mend. She pushed the pure, healing power of the Fragment into the core, driving it deep into the fissures left by the battle.
The Saint gasped, his great body trembling. The agonising pain was immense, but beneath it, the fissures—the single flaw that had threatened his very existence—sealed.
His silver eyes snapped open, blazing with pure, focused power. The core was whole. Not permanently healed, as only the Fragment could do that completely, but sealed, stable, and surging with power.
"It is done," Lyra whispered against his armour, her own body shaking from the spiritual exertion. "You are whole, Azael."
He held her tightly, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair. It was a raw, desperate embrace—not a lover's kiss, but a binding of two souls who had fought and bled together. The terrifying intimacy of their shared survival was the only truth that mattered.
"You saved me," the Saint murmured, his voice thick with raw emotion. "From Heaven, from Hell, and from myself. You are my only truth, Lyra."
The intimate moment was shattered by a flash of light on the horizon. Lyra's stolen comms unit began to blare.
"Azael! We have major energy signatures converging!" Lyra pulled back, her journalist's instincts taking over. "Seraphiel. He tracked the energy spike from the duel. The Archon teams are closing in on The Threshold."
The Saint didn't hesitate. He was energised, whole, and armed with the power of both Sanctus and Veritas.
He picked up the unified blade, which no longer struggled against his touch. It was now a stable, devastating force. He looked at Lyra, a fierce, terrifying focus in his eyes.
"The Threshold is compromised," the Saint stated, the Executioner fully in command. "The Black Cardinal has fled, and we have the ledger. We did what we came here to do."
He threw a grappling hook over the shattered rail toward the toxic wasteland below. He lifted Lyra into his arms, the action now easier, less draining.
"The war is no longer in the shadows, Lyra," the Saint declared. "We are now the clear targets of Heaven's full might. We descend into the Outskirts. We use the data you stole, and we prepare our final defence."
They swung out over the terrifying emptiness, leaving the ruins of the bridge behind. Act 1 was complete. The Executioner was whole, the alliance was cemented, and the war against Seraphiel was about to become tot