The cavern thrummed with a deep rumble, an echo of the titanic battles tearing apart the arena far above. Luminescent crystals embedded in the walls cast a sickly green glow, throwing distorted shadows across the survivors. Gills leaned against a stalagmite, wiping blood dripping from his arm, his red flames flickering faintly in his dark eyes. Soehpt, on his knees, clutched his lacerated shoulder, his spiritual blue flames crackling like a dying candle. Kira, breathless, adjusted her Cestus of Astrugg, a burn streaking her shoulder where an angelic beam had struck. The Styx Reapers formed a wary circle—Tyrnat stroked his shadow sickle, Yulius gripped his blood-sticky Massacre, and Nera clutched her cursed doll, her pale eyes scanning the darkness. Bhaadon and Solom, their mystical cloaks tattered, stared at Gota, who stood beside Natass, her ash-flecked white wings trembling in the damp air. Orak, solitary, held his broken ice lance, watching silently, while the masked warrior, slumped against a wall, gripped his bleeding stump, his black rune-etched blade resting at his feet, its glow dim.
Natass Magna XIII shattered the silence, slamming his cane against the ground with a sharp crack that echoed through the cavern. "Listen up, you pack of Grand Tyrans!" he shrieked, his shrill voice quivering with rage and desperation. "My brother, Fregass—that filthy dog in Satan's service—stole the Black Flames Crown from me! He's taken it to the Forge of the Abyss—a hell where damned souls are melted into weapons for the Monarchs. If we don't catch him, Satan will wear it, and your miserable little lives won't be worth a damn against him—angels or not!"
A murmur of defiance rippled through the group. Tyrnat narrowed his eyes, his voice cutting the air like ice. "Why trust you, imp? You've already led us into this trap." Nera nodded timidly, her shadow threads quivering around her doll, while Yulius growled, his sword poised to strike. Gills straightened, his imposing frame steady despite his wounds. "He's right about one thing," he said, his voice rough but firm. "If Satan gets the Crown, we're all dead. We've got no choice." He glanced at Soehpt and Kira, who nodded, their faces etched with exhaustion but resolve.
Bhaadon stepped forward, his tonfas clenched in trembling hands, his piercing eyes locked on Gota. "You…" he murmured, his voice breaking with old pain. "You died in Hysteria. I saw you vanish, swallowed by those cursed illusions. How are you here?" Solom, levitating slightly, his lightning crackling faintly around his Ivory Staff, added sharply, "Speak, Gota. We need the truth. Now."
Gota lowered her gaze, her fingers brushing a jellyfish-shaped scar on her arm, pulsing with an aqueous glow. "I survived… thanks to my last Turritopsis infernalis," she said, her voice soft but heavy with weariness. "A resurrection jellyfish. When Hysteria broke me, it brought me back, restoring my body, but I was too weak to rejoin you. Natass found me in the circle's wreckage, barely conscious. He hid me in a pocket dimension, a refuge where I watched the tournament through his eyes—your struggles, your betrayals, the angels' arrival. I came back to help, because I couldn't abandon you again." She lifted her head, her eyes shining with fragile but earnest determination.
A heavy silence settled, swiftly broken by Natass' mocking cackle. "Touching, isn't it? But enough sappy nonsense! We've got a Crown to reclaim!" Gota raised a hand, and a luminescent water jellyfish materialized above her, its tendrils floating like veils of pure liquid. "Let me heal you first," she murmured. The tendrils extended, brushing each survivor. A soothing warmth flooded Gills, sealing the gashes on his arm; Kira's burns faded, her breathing easing; the masked warrior's stump stopped bleeding, though his gaze remained haunted. Orak, wary, reluctantly accepted the healing, his icy skin regaining some color. Even Tyrnat, with a grunt, let the tendrils erase a wound on his side.
But mistrust lingered, thick as the mist rising from the floor. Tyrnat stepped forward, his smirk slicing through the tension. "An alliance with you, imp? Fine. But when we get the Crown, it's mine." Nera murmured her support, her eyes fixed on him with silent devotion, while Yulius growled, "I want it too." Gills crossed his arms, his red flames flaring brighter. "We retrieve it first. Then we settle scores." Soehpt, still shaken, whispered, "Together… we have to stay together." A guttural voice echoed in his mind—Volgurax: "Your mortal brother speaks true, little one. But watch for their blades in your back…" The masked warrior, still apart, lifted his black blade and murmured, almost to himself, "Satan must not have it. No matter the cost."
Natass, impatient, struck his cane again, and an unstable portal flickered open in the cavern, revealing a red glow and a metallic rumble. "The Forge of the Abyss calls, my precious ones!" he declared, his malice barely masking the fear in his eyes. The survivors exchanged suspicious glances but stepped forward, crossing the portal one by one. The air turned scorching, thick with the acrid stench of sulfur and molten iron. They emerged in a vast industrial cavern, its walls lined with rusted chains and roaring furnaces spitting orange flames. Screaming souls, encased in metal shells, were hammered into demonic weapons—Soul Blades, automatons with white-hot swords, pivoting toward them with menacing clanks.
"Forward!" Gills shouted, his red flames surging in a blazing wave that repelled the first automatons. Soehpt followed, his spiritual blue flames forming a shield around Kira, who dove into the fray, her Cestus of Astrugg smashing an enemy in a burst of sparks. Tyrnat summoned Ombrailes, the winged demon swooping into the ranks, while Nera cast shadow threads to bind their movements. Yulius, with Massacre, cleaved an automaton in two, its demonic blood splattering the searing floor. Bhaadon levitated debris to crush attackers, Solom blasted with lightning, and Orak froze circuits with ice shards. The masked warrior, despite his missing arm, danced between blades, his black sword glinting with runes as he beheaded a foe with lethal precision.
Far off, on a platform suspended above a bubbling lava lake, a figure emerged—Fregass, his round glasses gleaming in the red light, the Black Flames Crown pulsing in his ivory-gloved hands. "Too late, my dear Grand Tyrans!" he sneered, his honeyed voice carried by the scorching wind. He struck the ground with a golden cane, and a tremor shook the forge. A colossal form rose from the lava—Ignis Carcerem, a golem of metal and magma, its massive fists dripping liquid fire, its incandescent eyes fixed on the survivors.
The colossus slammed a fist down, forcing the group to scatter amid shouts and explosions. Gills unleashed a red flame storm to slow the attack, but the intense heat pushed his flames back like a gust of wind. "We can't beat it like this!" he yelled, his voice drowned by the golem's roar. Fregass, seizing the chaos, neared a portal at the platform's edge, the Crown shimmering in his grasp. Bhaadon, levitating above the fray, shouted, "He's escaping! We have to choose—the golem or the Crown!" Tyrnat sneered, "The Crown, fool!" But Kira growled, her cestus blazing, "If we let him go, he'll come back with worse!"
Time seemed to slow, each survivor weighing the stakes in a brutal moment of tension. Fregass reached the portal, a smug grin on his lips, and leapt through, the Crown vanishing in a golden flash before anyone could stop him. A cry of frustration tore from Gills, his red flames flaring with rage. But before the group could react, Natass appeared at the forge's center, cane raised, Gota at his side. "I'll handle the golem!" he roared, his shrill voice cutting through the din. "You—catch that mutt Fregass!"
Gota summoned a giant jellyfish, its watery tendrils coiling around Ignis Carcerem, slowing its movements as lava hissed against the moisture. Natass waved his cane, and a series of unstable portals flickered open before the survivors—Gills, Soehpt, Kira, Tyrnat, Yulius, Nera, Orak, and the masked warrior. "Go!" Gota cried, her eyes blazing with fierce resolve. But Bhaadon and Solom held back, their faces taut with pain and determination. "We won't abandon you again, Gota," Bhaadon murmured, levitating debris to bolster the jellyfish's defenses. Solom nodded, his lightning crackling, "We hold here. Go!"
Natass shot the others a final glance, a wicked smirk on his lips. "And use your Rings of Tyranny… Try combining them!" He couldn't resist a dark chuckle, a glint in his eyes as the portals sucked seven survivors—Gills, Soehpt, Kira, Tyrnat, Yulius, Nera, and the masked warrior—into a whirl of light and shadow. Behind them, Ignis Carcerem roared, shattering the jellyfish's tendrils, and an angelic light beam struck the platform where Natass, Gota, Bhaadon, and Solom faced the colossus, leaving their fate uncertain.