Lily had finally mustered the courage to approach Azaroth. She found him in the throne room, sitting upon his dark seat of power. The flickering torches cast deep shadows across his features, his eyes as cold and unreadable as ever.
She stood before him, nerves fraying, ready to speak her truth when suddenly—
The throne room doors burst open with a deafening crash.
Arthur stormed inside, his sword gleaming like fire in the dim light. His eyes locked onto Lily, his breath catching for a moment. She looked so different—her once radiant skin now pale, her flowing gowns replaced by dark armor that clung to her newly forged form. But to him, she was still the girl he was destined to marry—the innocent princess who had been stolen from him. And all he saw now was his duty to "save" her.
"Lily!" Arthur called, his voice thick with relief. "I've come to take you home."
For a moment, Lily stood frozen, heart pounding. Arthur was here, standing before her, the embodiment of everything she had run from. The world she once knew—the world she had rejected—was right in front of her, sword drawn, ready to whisk her back into its confines. But as she stared at him, his noble armor gleaming in the torchlight, she realized she didn't want to go back. She no longer belonged to that world. Not since she had come to the demon kingdom. And certainly not now, after all she had endured and learned.
She wasn't the helpless princess he thought she was rescuing.
"Arthur... why are you here?" she asked, her voice uncertain but edged with the quiet strength she'd gained since her time with Azaroth.
Azaroth remained seated, his dark armor reflecting the soft glow of the room's embers. His cold, unreadable eyes narrowed as he observed the human prince, and tension crackled in the air. Outside the throne room, the sounds of battle could be heard—Arthur's soldiers clashing with Azaroth's demon army. But inside, there was nothing but a suffocating silence.
Arthur ignored Lily's question, his attention solely on Azaroth. He raised his sword and pointed it directly at the Demon King, his voice laced with righteous fury. "Release her, demon!" Arthur growled, stepping forward.
Azaroth rose slowly from his throne, towering over the prince. His wings unfurled in a menacing display, black as night and crackling with dark energy. His own sword, wrapped in a blood-red aura, appeared in his hand—a blade as black as his soul. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble, filled with menace and killing intent.
"Release her?" Azaroth repeated, his words dripping with contempt. "She isn't your possession to reclaim."
Lily's heart raced. The inevitability of what was about to happen dawned on her, but her body felt as though it was hammered to the floor. She opened her mouth to speak, to shout, to stop them—
"Stop!" she screamed, but her voice was drowned out as the clash of swords filled the room.
Arthur struck first, his blade glowing with golden light, moving with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior. But Azaroth was no less skilled. His movements were as swift as shadows, blocking Arthur's strikes with ease. Their swords met with a blinding flash of gold and red, the sheer force of their blows sending shockwaves through the throne room. Lily could barely see anything beyond the flickers of light and the sounds of clashing metal.
Azaroth parried Arthur's blows with deadly precision, his strength unrelenting. Every strike of Arthur's sword was met with an equally powerful counter from Azaroth, the Demon King's black eyes burning with focused fury. Each swing of his blade seemed to tear through the air with the weight of a storm, and yet, Arthur fought with a blind righteousness that made him relentless.
The ground shook beneath them, and cracks began to form in the walls. Parts of the roof crumbled and collapsed, and Lily had to dart aside to avoid being crushed beneath the falling debris. She could feel the raw energy radiating from their battle—Arthur's golden light, fueled by self-righteousness, clashing violently with Azaroth's dark power, steeped in centuries of rule and survival. It was a battle of light and dark, of two opposing forces that could never coexist.
But as the fight raged on, Lily began to see the truth. Arthur's attacks were reckless, driven by pride and a need to prove himself. He was fully engrossed in his own righteousness, too blind to realize that in his frenzy, he was putting her life in danger. If she had still been the weak, fragile girl he believed her to be, she would have been crushed under the weight of his crusade.
He didn't care for her—not really. He cared for his ideals, for the image of her that he had built in his mind. But the real her? The person she had become? He was oblivious to that.
As the battle reached its peak, the room became a blur of shockwaves and destruction. The throne room was collapsing around them, and Lily could only watch, struggling to stay alive amid the chaos. And then, it happened.
The final blow came with a devastating burst of golden light. Arthur's sword sliced through the air, radiant with power, and struck Azaroth with a force that shook the entire castle. The throne room was consumed by blinding light, and for a moment, everything was silent.