We did it.

The words echoed in Tucker's head as a faint smile emerged. He held out his fist to Ray. "Damn right we did."

"That's my Commander." Ray lightly bumped Tucker's fist. "Though, I gotta say, you surprised the hell out of me there. Since when did you believe in God?"

Tucker softly laughed, noticing that Alex was also curious about the sudden development. He grabbed his left glove and took it off, revealing a silver band on his ring finger. "Someone I know gave this to me."

"Someone you know?" Alex brushed the ash off his shoulder before letting out a sigh. "I suppose that's one way to refer to your spouse."

"Spouse?" Tucker stared off into the distance, but soon closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, far from it. I doubt I'll live long enough for that to happen."

"Don't worry," Ray said. "I'll make sure you do."

Tucker glanced at Ray and smirked. "You have a hard enough time keeping yourself alive."

"It's a work in progress, sir." Ray stood up and held out his hand. Once Tucker grabbed on, he pulled him up. "Believe it or not, I owe you a lot for what you've done for me. Hell, the same goes for Luka too, and I'm sure if he were still around, he wouldn't want you saying those things."

"I couldn't agree more with the lad," Alex said. "You saved my life a few times as well. Whatever we're facing, we tackle as a team. Not as one."

Gale landed on Tucker's shoulder as if agreeing with the statement. They were right. All other times they would have run, but for once they held their own. Each one of them stood their ground and contributed to the battle in their own way. This victory wasn't won by one person alone, but as a team. And for that, he couldn't be any more grateful.

"You're right," Tucker admitted. "No man left behind. From here on out, we fight as one, and if we get separated… well, I'm sure we'll find each other."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Alex walked over and patted Tucker's shoulders. "Now, let's resume the mission. How much time do we have left?"

Tucker reached for the silver pocket watch. "About nine minutes left. Just enough time for us to make our exit."

Ray stared at the exoskeleton before them. "What about that thing? Do we just leave it?"

"When we take the city, we can come back for it," Alex said. "But for now, we need to make our way back to the surface."

Tucker placed the silver pocket watch back in his leather pouch, swapping it for a small crimson vial. As he brought it to his lips, he could feel the slow effects of the potion course through his body. It was just enough to reduce the pain in his limbs. Even though he didn't feel any fatigue, the first-degree burns on his body from Ray's Spirit Reflux had left their mark.

Yet as the last drop from the healing potion touched his lips. A faint shimmer on the exoskeleton caught his attention. Tucker raised a brow and focused on the light shining without a care in the world. He drew closer to what remained of Serevoth's body.

"What is it?" Ray asked.

"It seems like something was left behind in the demon's body," Tucker replied.

Alex immediately frowned, hand sliding to his sword's hilt. "It's not calling to you, is it?"

"Doesn't seem like it." Tucker examined the center of the exoskeleton, staring at a tiny black shard wedged where the demon's ribs connected. "There's a crystal here."

"Good, let's destroy it." Ray pulled out his obsidian dagger. "I don't want another demon to pop out of thin air on us." He glanced over the two. "Not that we couldn't kill it of course."

Alex chuckled. "I doubt we'll be able to break it. That crystal survived your Spirit Reflux. If it can withstand that heat, then the odds of us destroying it are slim." He narrowed his eyes. "Can it fit within that vial?"

Tucker glanced at the vial as Ray tossed him his dagger. He gently held the glass container beneath the fragment and pried it free with a simple twist of the blade. With a soft clink, it slid to the bottom. "Done."

"Should we call your priest friend to investigate?" Ray asked, stepping closer.

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"I suppose we could." Tucker flipped the dagger, catching it by the end of the blade, and held the hilt towards Ray. "Thanks."

"No problem. Now let's get the hell out of here." Ray sheathed his dagger, following behind Alex as the old man took the lead into the tunnels.

Tucker placed the vial into his leather pouch and glanced at what was left of Serevoth. He touched his chest, feeling the aura stars within burn with a fleeting warmth. Earlier, he had felt a searing sensation course through his veins, but now it was gone.

"Was it because of Ray?" he muttered.

No, it couldn't have been.

Tucker held onto his sword, which was back in its scabbard, and gazed at the dagger on his waist. He took the dagger and called out to Ray. "Here."

Ray glanced back, catching Tucker's dagger. "It's a bit impractical for me to use two daggers."

"Better to have a backup just in case." Tucker walked past Ray and patted his shoulder. "Let's get the job done."

Together, the group entered the tunnels leading to the depths of the sewers. The sound of their footsteps grew fainter with each passing second as they sprinted through the winding tunnels. All that was left behind in the chamber was the crumbling wooden bookshelves with ashes of tombs and Serevoth's exoskeleton. Yet as their figures vanished, a quiet splash hit the fragmented tiles.

Bits of ichor hidden within the cracks and grooves of the ground moved, threading like tiny veins from the abyss. Each trickle left a soft hiss towards the remains, dragging itself across the stone. It wasn't rushing like a stream but a slow, deliberate crawl as if it was making its way home.

The gurgling sound of ichor finally reached the exoskeleton, filling the ashen veins with a newfound life. Serevoth weakly opened its teal eye. Unable to move its limbs as its hand dug into the scorched stone. The effects of the flame watchman's Ignition Reflux had left their mark. Ichor quivered as it touched the ruined body and evaporated into smoke.

Serevoth had lost the battle to the watchmen. Just like its brethren had in the olden days. But the new generation of spirit contractors was inexperienced. They lacked the precision and perfectionism of the past. A fault Serevoth would take full advantage of. In a couple of hours, the demon would have enough ichor gathered from the corpses to replenish its strength. But for now, it needed to recover the strength it had lost.

The black ichor began to settle within Serevoth's body. A trembling sensation loomed in the air. The rancid scent of sulfur filled the demon's nostrils. Serevoth's gaze slowly crept upon the broken stone cracks, towards the familiar swirl of flames pulsing several feet before it. A sharp snarl escaped its broken lips.

Within the flames was an orange and crimson light. A summoning circle seared into the tiles themselves, runes twisting and holding in impossible geometries from a long-forgotten language. Sparks cascaded upward like hands seeking salvation. Only for the very heat to ripple outwards in rings, burning what remained of the wooden structures.

In its embrace was the hulking form of another monstrosity. Two horns broke through the wall of flames as they jutted from the side of the demon's ashen head. One was sharp, curved like a scythe, while the other had been cut off from the midsection. Its fingers wrapped around the hilt of a single, jagged object. A large blade that was as dark as the night with an orange hue that licked the edge. The chaotic tune humming from the cleaver was one Serevoth would never forget.

The anthem of the demons that had betrayed their kind.

The same ones who had stripped them of their freedom, imprisoning their kind in the Infinite Gloom. A place that the foolish referred to as a realm when it was really a sentence. A place that was carved into existence for one purpose alone. To hold the demons in a darkness that eroded their minds.

It was a land where hope died, even for souls like Serevoth. A plane without a sky or horizon. An endless chasm of shadow where distance meant nothing. The only ground for them to stand on was their own aura. A brittle surface that floated on top of a deeper darkness. Every step echoed for an eternity and then repeated in noises that weren't your own.

Serevoth held its tongue, unable to utter a word in the presence before it. The Hellspawn in front of it wasn't just any fiend it could take out. Not in its current state at least, and from the inscriptions on the cleaver, Serevoth could tell that it was a Warden of Hell.

"Did you enjoy your… brawl with those I have marked?" the two-horned demon asked with a crooked grin.

Serevoth snarled. "Is that how thou hast found me, Warden?"

"Indeed." The Warden's grin widened. "I'll admit, I never imagined a demon as prideful as thyself would stoop to confiding in… humans…" It snickered, raising its cleaver so the edge caught the dim embers of the flames. "And look at thee now, reduced to nothing more than a broken puppet with its strings cut. Though I must wonder… how did thou escape? Demons imprisoned in the Gloom cannot form contracts, much less venture out of that domain."

Serevoth met the fiend's gaze with a low, rasping chuckle. "Dost thou truly believe I would reveal our secrets?"

"Nay," the Warden replied, stepping closer. "But there are far crueler punishments than merely existing within the Gloom."

The Warden looked down at Serevoth before plunging its cleaver through the center of the scholar's chest with a crunch. Flesh was torn and ichor painted the tiles. Slowly, the Warden leaned closer. "We will have our answers…" it whispered. "One way or another."

The black ichor from Serevoth's body crawled towards the blade, drawn to the runes etched along its surface. The very same ancient sigils that suppressed demonic will and devoured aura. Chains of spectral iron erupted from the ground as a void tore open beneath Serevoth. Each one bound the fiend, digging through the exoskeleton, and wrenched its body downward.

There was no escaping the Warden. No reprieve for those who defied the Hellspawn's decree, yet as Serevoth sank further into the abyss, its ruined lips curled upward into a mocking grin.

"For thou to take so long to hunt me… means that even the revered Hellspawns are at their limits," Serevoth said. "Thou art losing this war."

The violet light in the Warden's eyes dimmed upon hearing Serevoth's words, but only for a fraction of a second before a cold glare personified. Flames coiled around its frame as the summoning circle at its feet thrummed with renewed heat. "We shall see."

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