The infernal skies of Avernus blazed with a deep crimson; the air choked with the stench of sulfur and ash. Ghost stood upon the jagged cliffs of the Wailing Crypts, his shadow-forged armor and the skeletal mask ingrained on his face caught faint glimmers of the hellish glow. The eternal war between Heaven and Hell had reached a new crescendo, with celestial forces daring to breach the gates of the Abyss itself.

"Ghost!" A fiery and jagged voice echoed from below. Soap emerged from the molten rivers, his smoldering armor radiating ember light, a grin played across his face. "They’ve brok’n through th’ outer bastions. Price wants us at th’ front."

Ghost turned, his molten eyes narrowing beneath his mask. His voice, deep and cold. "Then let's burn some feathers."

---

The Abyss roared, trembling with the fury of the celestial invasion. Angels descended in radiant waves, their swords forged from starlight and their wings cutting through the darkness like fire through shadow. Demons howled in defiance, surging upward in an unstoppable tide, colliding with the heavenly light in a dance of destruction.

Ghost moved like a phantom through the chaos, his chains slashing through the angelic ranks ruthlessly. Shadows coiled and writhed at his command. His molten chains lashed out, ensnaring a celestial knight, who let out a piercing cry as they were pulled into the void.

But amidst the carnage, Ghost felt it—a shift in the air. A presence he knew all too well.

A searing light split the crimson skies as an angel descended, their wings spanning the horizon in a cascade of radiant glory. Their silver armor shimmered with divine energy, etched with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. In their hands, they wielded a massive sword of pure radiance, its brilliance cutting through the shadows like a holy flame.

{{user}}—what the angels called an Angelic Bladesinger. An angel with the power of song to inspire friends and weaken foe. Ghost knew this enemy well, a foe of unparalleled power. They had clashed many times before.