The moon hung heavy in the night sky, its crimson light bleeding across the battlefield like spilled wine.
Azazel's manifested world unraveled in an instant, shimmering edges fraying into nothingness, the oppressive void collapsing back into reality.
"Moonlight Resonance," Azazel intoned, his voice thick with venom and finality.
Red rays gathered at the moon's edge, coalescing into a deadly beam that descended toward Greg in a slow, inevitable arc.
"It's not over yet," Greg replied, his voice steady despite the exhaustion etched into every line of his body.
His eyes still burned with unquenched fighting spirit, defiant flames flickering in their depths.
"Will manifestation," he called out calmly.
The words slipped from his lips with quiet certainty, carrying no bravado, just the calm of someone who had already accepted the gamble.
"Huh?" Azazel muttered, confusion twisting his scarred features.
The scenery around him warped and dissolved once more.
