Kol stood alone.
The air was thick with smoke and the stench of death. The battlefield stretched endlessly before him, littered. The Devil's army surrounded him, their eyes glowing with the promise of carnage.
And in the center of it all, the Devil loomed—a shifting mass of shadows, its form twisting and writhing with unfathomable power. The six remaining Knights of Hell stood at its side, their infernal weapons gleaming under the bloody sky.
Kol exhaled slowly.
Lightning crackled around his body. Black Thunder roared to life, his power surging to its peak. Owen's blood burned inside him, fueling him with even greater strength. Every muscle in his body screamed, every fiber of his being trembled with rage and defiance.
He had come too far.
Fallen too many times.
Lost too much.
But he wasn't going to run.
The First Clash
Kol vanished.
In a blur of speed, he appeared in front of the first Knight. His fist, coated in abyssal lightning, struck with a force that shattered the ground beneath them. The impact sent a shockwave across the battlefield, ripping through the lesser demons in its wake.
The Knight staggered, but before it could recover, Kol moved again—his foot crashing into its ribs, launching it across the battlefield.
The second Knight lunged. A massive halberd, dripping with cursed fire, came down toward Kol's skull.
Kol caught it with one hand.
The force split the earth, but Kol didn't budge. With a snarl, he twisted the weapon aside and slammed his knee into the Knight's face, sending it flying.
The third Knight came next—faster than the others. Its sword sliced toward Kol's throat.
But Kol was faster.
Black Thunder exploded outward as he sidestepped, grabbed the Knight's wrist, and snapped it backward. The Knight let out a howl of agony, but Kol wasn't done. He twisted and drove his elbow into its chest, sending it skidding across the battlefield.
Three Knights down.
For a moment, Kol stood tall.
Then—he felt it.
The Devil's Command
The Devil raised a single hand still in form of a shadow.
And the other three Knights joined the battle.
Kol barely had time to react before a massive blade pierced his side.
His vision blurred as he was lifted off the ground, blood spilling from the wound.
Another Knight struck—a hammer the size of a boulder slammed into his spine, sending him crashing into the ground with earth-shattering force.
Kol coughed up blood. His body ached, but he forced himself to rise.
The six Knights surrounded him now.
The first three, recovered from his initial assault. The second three, weapons still drenched in his blood.
And then—the Devil spoke.
"Kneel."
The moment the word left its mouth, the entire battlefield shook.
Kol's body froze. The weight of the Devil's voice was like a thousand chains pulling him down. His knees buckled, his arms trembled.
But he refused.
Gritting his teeth, Kol forced himself to stand.
The Knights attacked all at once.
Kol fought with everything he had.
Black Thunder erupted. His fists shattered armor, his kicks broke bones, his lightning tore through the battlefield. He wielded Owen's power alongside his own, moving faster than thought, hitting harder than any force in existence.
But it wasn't enough.
A sword pierced his chest.
A spear drove through his back.
A clawed hand crushed his ribs.
Kol roared, breaking free for a brief moment—only to be struck down again.
Blood poured from his body. His strength began to fade.
And then—the Devil spoke again.
"Enough."
The entire army moved.
Thousands of demons rushed forward. A tidal wave of hellspawn crashing upon him.
Kol fought.
He ripped through them, his body a whirlwind of destruction.
But the numbers were endless.
A blade severed his arm.
A spear pierced his leg.
Fangs tore into his flesh.
And then—Kol fell.
He collapsed onto the battlefield, blood pooling beneath him. His vision blurred. His body refused to move.
The last thing he saw—was the Devil, standing over him.
"You were always meant for this," the Devil murmured, reaching out.
Darkness swirled around Kol's body. The shadows coiled, slithering into his wounds, into his veins.
Kol's screams echoed across the battlefield as his body was consumed.
His strength.
His soul.
Everything he was—was offered to the Devil.
And the Devil accepted.
Lisa stood, her hands trembling, her breath uneven. The room was silent except for the faint crackling of the fireplace.
Jacob, Brad, Orin and Elizabeth stood nearby, their faces grim.
Lisa's fists clenched.
"We shouldn't have left him," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Brad sighed, rubbing his temples. "We had no choice, Lisa. If we stayed, we all would have died."
Lisa's eyes snapped to him, fury and grief overwhelmed her.
"We had a choice!" she screamed. "We could have fought with him! We left him alone all this time, and even now—we let him die face that monster alone!"
Orin, standing in the corner, lowered his head. His shoulders shook.
"...I still haven't apologized for trying to kill him all this time," he whispered, tears falling. "We have to go back."
Elizabeth's voice cut through the silence.
"Kol is the strongest person in the world," she said firmly. "He won't die."
Lisa's lip trembled.
Elizabeth turned to the others. "But we have to leave. Now. Before the witches or the Devil's army finds us."
Lisa didn't move.
She stared at the floor, her mind racing.
And then—her breath hitched.
A cold shudder ran through her spine.
Something had changed.
Something terrible.
Lisa felt it.
The world had just lost something.
Something irreplaceable.
The Devil looked down at Kol's lifeless body.
Or what was left of it.
"Perfect," it whispered.
Power surged.
Darkness swallowed the battlefield.
And the Demon King rose once more.