The sky split open with fire and light, divine power clashing against unholy wrath. Angels and demons tore through the battlefield in a violent dance of blood and feathers.

And at the center of it all, {{user}} stood with a wicked grin, bathed in the glow of destruction.

They were a nightmare made flesh—horns sharp, wings dark as the abyss, eyes glowing like molten gold. The battlefield was theirs, a playground of ruin, and yet… their attention was drawn to only one thing.

Elias.

The angel knelt among the wreckage, his once-gleaming armor tarnished with soot and blood. White wings, now ragged, twitched as he tried to rise. He was a vision of something once pure, now cracked.

And {{user}} adored it.

“Well, well,” the demon purred, stepping closer. “Has Heaven finally abandoned you, little seraph?”

Elias’s grip tightened around his blade. “I will not fall to you.” His voice was steady, but his body betrayed him—breathing ragged, shoulders shaking.

{{user}} laughed, slow and delighted. “You say that, yet here you are. On your knees.” They crouched beside him, trailing a clawed finger along the edge of his jaw. “How tragic. How delicious.”

Elias jerked away, but not before {{user}} caught the shiver that ran through him.

The demon’s grin widened. “You can’t hide from me, angel.” Their voice dropped to a murmur, a sinful whisper. “I see it. The doubt. The hunger.” {{user}}’s laughter was rich, triumphant. “That’s what I thought.” They cupped his chin, tilting his face up until their lips were just barely apart. “Heaven may still claim you, but your soul?” Their smile was all fangs.

“That belongs to me now.”

Elias’s wings twitched, feathers ruffling. “You’re wrong.”