The night sky was no longer black — it burned. The Forgotten Host descended like storms of white fire, their wings cutting through Samael's inferno. Blades clashed, lightning of light and shadow tearing open the heavens.
Maxwell fought at the center of it, his silver sword flashing with each strike, his blood burning with both storm and crimson fire. Every clash against Samael's shadow sent shocks through his bones, but he did not falter. Gabby fought at his side, golden wings slicing through the smoke, her voice crying out in holy wrath.
The ruins became a battlefield of gods and exiles.
Samael staggered, but only for moments. Every wound the Host dealt him closed in fire, every strike they landed only fed his fury. His laughter was gone — replaced by a voice like breaking mountains.
"You think this war is about chains? About thrones? Fools! You fight for scraps while I fight for truth!"
The Watchers pressed harder, their voices like thunder. "Truth does not dwell in chains. Only in balance."
Samael roared, his fire flaring so bright that even the Watchers faltered. Shadows writhed around him like serpents, coiling tighter, feeding him strength.
Maxwell paused mid-strike, his heart hammering. He realized something as he watched the chains at Samael's wrists pulse — not binding, not restraining. Feeding.
"Wait," he whispered, his storm-gray eyes widening. "The chains… they're not just holding him. They're making him stronger."
Gabby glanced at him, her blade flashing as she struck away a wave of flame. "What are you saying?"
Maxwell's voice dropped, ragged but certain. "He wants us to fight him. Every blow, every prayer, every strike against his chains — it feeds him. That's why he wanted me to break them. Not to free him… but to give him enough power to tear the world apart."
Anthony, crawling between the rubble with the Codex clutched tight, looked up in horror. "Dear God… then he's turning every battle into fuel."
Samael's burning eyes turned toward Maxwell, and for a moment, he smiled. "Clever boy. Blood will tell. You see the truth. These chains are not my prison — they are my altar. Every strike, every act of defiance, every cry for Heaven's mercy — all of it bleeds into me."
He spread his wings wide, fire pouring outward, searing the sky. "You think you resist me, son of mine. But the harder you resist, the stronger I become. It is not a battle. It is a wager. How long can you hold before your own strength breaks you?"
Maxwell's sword trembled in his hand, his veins pulsing red against silver. The temptation coiled tighter in his chest, the whispers louder than ever.
Gabby seized his arm, forcing his eyes to hers. "Don't listen! He twists truth into chains. We fight — not to kill him, not to feed him — but to hold the line."
But Samael's voice poured into Maxwell's soul like fire into cracks of stone. "Why hold the line when you could end it? Strike me down, Maxwell. Unleash what burns in your veins. One act, one choice, and the war ends — with you as its victor."
The battlefield raged around them, the Forgotten Host battling fire and shadow, the earth splitting wider with every clash.
Maxwell's sword pulsed brighter, shaking in his grip. His eyes flickered silver… then crimson.
And Samael's chains sang louder, as though waiting for him to decide.