The demonic horde, heeding Lucifer's command, surged forward with renewed vigor, their ghastly forms creating a tide of malevolence. Azrael and Michael, standing firm, prepared to face the onslaught, knowing that the safety of Luna depended on their ability to withstand this infernal assault.
Azrael swung his Death Scythe with precision, cutting through the demonic ranks as Michael summoned celestial blades of light to intercept their advance. The clash of weapons and magic reverberated through the air, creating an intense symphony of battle.
In the midst of the chaos, Lucifer, his wounded arms slowly healing, watched with a malevolent grin as his minions attempted to overwhelm the defenders. His eyes fixated on Luna, the sacrificial soul glowing within her, a prize he coveted above all else.
