The battlefield was flooded with the blood of angels and demons, the two sides mercilessly fighting each other. The war had come to a standstill, with only two people remaining, Yosaflame and Sherbet. Yosaflame was in bad shape, pinned to the ground by Sherbet's icicle spears. Blood was slowly oozing from his wounds, and he was drifting in and out of consciousness as the pain overwhelmed him. He was left helpless, almost completely at Sherbet's mercy. All he could do was lie there, trying to stay awake and fight through the pain, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to do so. Sherbet, meanwhile, was a sight to behold. His once-pristine outfit was now torn and bloodied. Deep cuts covered his body, leaving him looking beat and battered from the brutal fight. Despite all that, he couldn't help but smile a victorious yet manic smile. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment when he finally defeated Yosaflame. He approached the defeated figure of Yosaflame, towering over him with a sense of superiority.

Sherbet stood there, staring down at Yosaflame with a sense of satisfaction. His smile slowly turned into a wicked grin, and he couldn't hold back his crazed laughter. "Heh, heh... I- I did it! I finally did it! Ha-Ha-HA-HA-HA!" he exclaimed with a crazed glint in his eye. He hastily ran his gloved hands down his face, smearing the blood across it. He couldn't believe what he had just achieved, and his elation was evident. He was gloating. "See, Yosaf?! I knew I'd win! I- I kn...ew y-you..." Before he could even finish his sentence, Yosaflame's sword suddenly jutted out and impaled him. Sherbet was left gasping and gagging as he fell to his knees, trying to speak through the blood pooling in his mouth.