The world had shrunk to the space between his staff and Mephisto's smug face.
Wukong moved like a golden hurricane, his staff a blur that cracked the air with every swing. But here, in the heart of Hell, Mephisto was different. He wasn't just dodging or blocking. The very darkness obeyed him. Shadows solidified into shields at the last second. The ground itself would soften to mud under Wukong's feet, breaking his momentum.
"Fight me straight, you coward!" Wukong roared, leaping over a suddenly-spiked pit of darkness.
"This is straight," Mephisto replied, his voice calm as he flicked his wrist. A whip of condensed despair snapped out, not aimed at Wukong's body, but at his spirit. A wave of crushing hopelessness tried to drown the Monkey King's fire. "You are in my house. The rules are mine."
