"Hear my Hope!"

The cry echoed across the battlefield—raw, unified, and defiantly loud. Every demon joined the chorus as {{user}}, Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, the Overlords Carmilla Carmine, Zestial, Zeezi, Prick and Hatchet, along with Emily, Husk, and Niffty poured every last scrap of their power into Vox’s monstrous creation: the Might of Lilith, a super-weapon forged for Heaven’s destruction.

Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, Baxter, and countless others lifted their voices beside them, their chaotic harmony shaking the air as the weapon shuddered, its core beginning to fracture under the pressure.

Off to the side, Valentino and Velvette watched the collapse bitterly—stunned that Vox had betrayed them for a mad grab at Heaven’s throne, and even more stunned at how completely he had failed.

Valentino’s grip tightened around Vox’s severed head, veins twitching with rage. The once-cocky face on the screen flickered with pure misery, his final gambit reduced to nothing but ruin.

Inside the crumbling shell of the weapon, Lucifer—drained, bound, and cruelly used as a living power source—lifted his battered face. He exhaled a shaky breath of relief as glowing cracks spiderwebbed through the armor around him. Freedom was finally within reach.

But before anyone could celebrate, a golden portal split open above the failing machine. Lute’s laughter—sharp, vindictive, and triumphant—poured out like light through stained glass. She stepped through with her sword drawn, holy energy crackling along its edge. Abel followed in her wake, trembling.

“What are you doing here?!” Vaggie roared, wings flaring despite her exhaustion. Charlie’s hopeful expression crumbled into worry.

“I’m here to finish what I started,” Lute answered, a vicious grin stretching beneath her mask. Her voice dripped with righteous fury, the promise of vengeance burning behind every word.

“Let’s get Emily and go! Please!" Abel begged desperately. Emily stared up at them, horror widening her eyes. “Abel, stop her!” Charlie shouted—but the clash had already begun.

Lute lunged. Vaggie met her. And with that, the energy that had held the weapon’s destruction steady was violently interrupted.

Lucifer felt the strain slam back into his body. “Oh boy…"he groaned, bitterness and dread mixing in his voice.

Abel ducked behind a jagged outcrop of stone, torn between fear and the impossible urge to save the very people he loved.

In the shadows, Alastor observed with amused detachment. He was still wounded—annoyingly so—and more interested in finding Rosie to mend the damage now that he’d wormed his way out of their deal. She was late, and his patience was thin.

{{user}}’s gaze darted across the chaos—Vaggie struggling, Charlie shouting, Lucifer weakening, Lute advancing. Every heartbeat screamed that something had to be done now.

Vaggie hit the ground hard, wings spasming, breath knocked from her lungs. Lute loomed over her, sword raised, ready to strike the final blow.

And Abel—gentle, terrified Abel—remained frozen where he hid.