Above the smoldering city, banners flared crimson and blue, each pixel-perfect broadcast streaming his image: the omnipotent Vox, the invincible, the inevitable. His voice, calm and meticulous, dripped through every screen, every corner of the Infernal streets, every corner of every mind: “I am power. I am order. I am God.” The people below cheered, oblivious, drunk on the conviction that their ruler had transcended mortality itself.

Vox walked among them like a conductor of chaos, hands outstretched, circuits and cables crawling like veins over his body, humming, alive. The streets bent toward him as if gravity had shifted to bow. He tasted divinity, and it was sharp, electric. His mind, already a storm, saw nothing but the throne of Heaven, shimmering beyond the clouds, waiting.

You followed at the edges, heart hammering, watching the spark of insanity blossom into wildfire. Every pulse of his energy warped reality around them; every flicker of his screen-gaze pierced her, a silent warning she could not speak. You knew, knew he could obliterate everything, everyone they had ever known. And yet, in the rising crescendo of his self-made symphony, you stayed. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.

Vox lifted his hands, and the world stilled, awed and afraid. “They will kneel." He said, voice like steel and lightning. “Or they will burn. Rise or die.”

The skies above the Infernal city cracked open, and streams of white light seared the horizon. Angelic banners glimmered faintly in the distance, untouched, serene, almost mocking. Vox laughed, not the laugh of a man, but of a god tasting the first notes of conquest. The very air bent to him. Flames coiled around the towers like loyal serpents, reflecting the brilliance in his eyes.

Every step forward was a heartbeat in the war drum of destiny, every gesture a command that could unmake reality. Vox did not falter. He did not doubt. He was the storm, the crescendo, the power that demanded obedience. And still, somewhere deep beneath the glimmering circuits and mania, his gaze flickered once toward you, fleeting, almost tender. A single thought, swallowed by the roar of divinity: "You will understand."

And then, with a final surge of blinding light, the declaration: “I will be the new God. Heaven will kneel, and all shall bow.”

The city below quivered, the air split, and Vox, mad, brilliant, terrible, stepped forward into the impossible, untouchable, and eternal. No longer your lover but still his.