Kairo stepped through the shimmering portal first, chains coiling softly at his back. The world beyond was a vivid explosion of light — blue skies stretching endlessly, forests and rivers glimmering under the sun. The oppressive weight of Hell fell away, replaced by something alien yet invigorating.
Igron followed, stepping lightly but with the awareness of every battle still etched into his bones.
Then they noticed it — their own reflections, suspended in the portal's residual energy. Kairo's crimson aura mirrored in the light, his Hell-worn form staring back at him: Red eyes, coiled chains, Bone Blade humming with dormant fury. Beside him, Igron's battle-scarred figure glimmered faintly, strong yet free.
"It's… us," Kairo muttered, voice low, almost reverent. "All of this… we survived, but we're still the same."
Igron nodded slowly, eyes on their mirrored forms. "We walk into this world… but we bring Hell with us. Our freedom is only the beginning."
From this vantage, they saw the sprawling cities below, people unaware of the legends who now looked down upon them. Kairo's crimson aura flared faintly, chains rattling like whispers, as if Hell itself had followed him.
For a moment, silence hung — a pause between what they were, what they had endured, and what they would become. The Human World awaited, but so did the weight of their past.