Amidst the choking smoke of Hellspire, where the air tasted of ozone and burning oil, two metal titans fought for dominance. The Eradicator Mark 3 buried a massive fist into the Contemptor's chassis with the force of a falling star. The Calamity machine emitted a deafening, distorted whine—a sickening scree-oomm—before using its massive bulk to ram the Eradicator back into a muddy trench.
The Eradicator let out an animalistic growl of static. Lunging from the dirt, it struck with such ferocity that the Contemptor's armor shattered like glass. There was no mercy; the Eradicator leaped upon the wreckage, its metal fingers tearing the machine apart limb from limb. Black oil sprayed across the victor's rusty frame like a dark, grim baptism.
The machine stood tall, letting out a roar of triumph that was abruptly silenced. A terrifying boom and a high-pitched shriek pierced the sky. Something heavy plummeted from the atmosphere, striking the earth with enough force to kick up a mountain of dust. As the haze cleared, a silhouette of nightmares emerged: the Corrupted Eradicator Mark 2 had arrived to reclaim the field.
The Empty Vessel
Back within the castle courtyard, Azret loomed over the Knight. Though the demon possessed no mouth, his voice vibrated through the very stones of the fortress—a bottomless, demonic sound.
"You think you're worthy..." the voice echoed. "Only the weak or strong... all will die."
In a blur of terrifying speed, Azret vanished. He reappeared inches from the Knight, but the silent warrior was ready. His rusty blade met the demon's massive claws in a rhythmic storm of sparks and steel. With every strike, Azret grew visibly larger, his body swelling as he fed upon the physical manifestation of his own rage.
With a surge of strength, the demon seized the Knight and hurled him across the courtyard. The Knight smashed through a reinforced stone wall, his body tumbling into the dirt in a cloud of debris.
The Knight forced himself to his feet, his ancient armor spider-webbed with cracks. He raised his sword high, the metal beginning to pulse with a jagged, holy radiance.
"THE DIVINE EXTOSURE!" he bellows, his voice cracking the air.
A grid of brilliant light-beams sliced through the atmosphere, striking Azret and sending the demon reeling. But Wrath is a persistent god. Azret recovered instantly, closing the gap in a heartbeat. His claws tore through the Knight's chest plate, digging deep for a heart to crush—but the talons found only hollow space and bleached bone.
The Knight was an empty vessel, a ghost bound to iron.
The Sacrifice of Bone
Azret let out a frustrated, demonic shriek. His six lidless eyes swiveled, focusing on the Tunic Artifact. Nearby, John and General Leah had reached the relic; their fingers were inches from its pulsing power.
To the demon, the world turned a predatory, blinding red. A blood-red aura flared around the two mortals, marking them as prey in his sight. Azret lunged, his claws descending like falling guillotines—but he did not find flesh.
The Skeleton Dragon threw itself into the path of the blow. The demon's claws tore through the ancient bone, and with a final, hollow roar, the dragon disintegrated into a cloud of gray ash. It was a final sacrifice to save the mortals.
Azret snarled, raising his claws for a second strike to finish the job, but the Knight was there. He caught the blow with his sword, the rusted metal groaning and bending under the demon's impossible weight.
The Knight's voice was no longer a tomb-whisper; it was a roar of ancient, primal fury that shook the castle to its foundations.
"You little scumbag! DON'T MAKE ME MADDD!!?"