I dangled from the cross, spikes of light impaling my hands and feet. Blood streamed down to be drank by the parched sand. The sun baked down on my black scales, heating my body and cooking my flesh.

I fought against the restraints that held me in place. My hands slid up the spikes, leaving a coating of red to stain the light. However, all my progress was eliminated as a strong magnetic force pulled my arms back to their resting position.

Fuck it, if I'm going to get rid of any ability, it's going to be this one.

"Ah, you've finally arrived here too," a voice chimed in from behind me.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to turn my head around to catch a glimpse of whoever was behind me.

"I'm afraid that I am in the same position as you," the voice replied calmly. "Our crucifixes are standing back to back. I cannot see you just as you cannot see me. I am the Chivalrous Demon."

"Ishmael."

"I know who you are, Dragon who Heralds the End," the Chivalrous Demon said in a sardonic tone. "You're the one that Yoshitsune is so fond of. The one who constantly destroys and kills for no other purpose than to destroy and kill. Tell me, what is the fate of the one who tried to believe in you even though you are such a hopeless creature?"

"Sleeping somewhere inside of Mikha'el," I replied bitterly. "At peace, whatever that means."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Welcome to repentance," the Chivalrous Demon greeted. "I imagine that we will remain here until Mikha'el completes his designs for the future."

"Aren't you counting me out a little early?"

"Are you not dead?"

"No," I answered. "I was placed in here to reflect upon my actions. See reason or die upon my return. It's something that a thing known as Grace mandated."

"Grace."

The Chivalrous Demon's voice dropped into a guttural growl in response to the utterance of Grace's name. I set Control's ability to the side, curiosity getting the better of me.

"You know her?" I probed.

"We met. Once," the Chivalrous Demon answered. "I had forgotten until I was exiled here, who I had met when I escaped from my personal Heaven."

"You forgot?"

"No, you're right; forgetting isn't the right way to describe it. That information was carved from my mind. Even that piece of information is but a tiny scrap of the great scars that run like valleys through my mind. As I wandered the sterile halls of some bizarre construction, I met her. I do not remember what we spoke of, but I do remember that she made me an offer; one that I ultimately rejected. One that forced me back into my room to relive the hallucinations until I tore them apart myself. I should have known that someone like Mikha'el would have met her as well."

"What is she?"

"Who knows," the demon answered with a sigh. "Something reminiscent of the Follies, but not exactly. I know that she wasn't human. That's as far as I can recollect. Perhaps my actions have been in service of further rejection, though I no longer know the cause."

"That rebelling didn't matter, you lost in the end."

"That is true," he conceded. "His strength far surpassed what I had imagined. When the Eight-mouthed Liar told us that you and Wrath had killed each other, we thought our numbers would be enough."

"Your soul persists here. You can still do something."

"No," he denied. "Unlike you, I am truly dead. My body was ripped apart by his lance. Though I still have power remaining, as soon as I breach this realm, I would die."

We hung in silence for a moment. Whatever Grace seemed to be, it was not going to affect the outcome or change what I would do if I gained victory. Now, my eyes shifted to a different prize.

"How badly do you wish to prevent Mikha'el's future to pass?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"To speak more plainly, would you prefer my victory or Mikha'el's? A dirty soul like me or someone in the pocket of Grace?"

I could hear the Chivalrous Demon's teeth grind as he was forced to choose between two unsavory options. It was though I asked him if he'd rather eat rotten meat or shit. Both would do terrible things, but one had to be chosen.

"How do you plan to win?" He asked.

"I have an ability that allows me to temporarily nullify any ability my opponent has. I'm hoping that there is a specific ability that I can sever. In the worst case, I can remove one of his more potent combat abilities and try to overpower him."

"And what will you do if you win?"

"Not sue yet, depends on my mood. I might keep everything as is, I might change it all to suit me best, or I might destroy it entirely."

"I have had a chance to think at great lengths since I've been down here," the Chivalrous Demon said. "I've wondered about what purpose such a place as this serves. Is it really just the mismanagement of a creator? A failed system meant to punish with an unequal hand? Or, is it meant to serve some other purpose, one that we may never truly understand?"

I tilted my head to the side. I had given it sporadic thought myself. It was not created by fair hands. It has been clear for a long time that punishment was only a byproduct of amusement. We were ants in a terrarium, being observed by things we couldn't truly know.

"I don't think we were ever the purpose," I concluded.

"If this place cannot be rehabilitated; if it can only exist under the thumb of creators that don't care about us, it must be destroyed. I will allow you to use what power remains within me."

I could feel a cool air waft from behind me. Mana poured into my body; not just a small percentage, but the entirety of the Chivalrous Demon's power was consumed by me. Still, it was not enough to remove myself. I would need to proceed with my plan.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I summoned Control's gift. It asked me what I wanted to remove from my opponent. It had to be an ability, there was no other way that they could exist in this place without the Follies noticing.

"Sever Mikha'el's connection with Grace. I want him to feel that isolation that he abhors so much."

The prompt closed instantly. For a moment, I sat there under the false sun, baking in the heat. It appeared as though nothing changed. However, a smile crossed my lips that I could not remove. I could not open the ability again.

It had worked.

A scream of anguish washed over the desolate dunes, filling my ears with the gorgeous tones. I could feel my body being pulled off of the cross. The sands melted away into the black floors. The sun was swallowed into darkness.

"What have you done?" Mikha'el demanded.

I bent backwards to avoid the cross from shattering my head. I flicked at his planted foot with my tail, knocking him slightly off balance before crushing him across the face with a maximum power punch.

"Bring her back to me," he hissed.

Mikha'el shook it off in an instant before pressing me with a brutal assault. Crosses and lances and bursts of light that could boil my eyeballs rained down with reckless abandon. It was as though he were dropping an entire nuclear arsenal upon me in the hopes that evaporate from this world.

That also meant he was getting sloppy.

There were openings that didn't exist before; places that I could weave in punches and kicks and spells where I couldn't in the past.

Another advantage quickly rose; the room was black. My obsidian-colored mana could appear from anywhere to surprise Mikha'el if he wasn't looking.

I leapt up into the air to avoid a stabbing lance. I formed an [Obsidian Spike] right above me. I rotated my body, planting my feet firmly on the spell before rocketing down upon Mikha'el to clobber him with a clean hit.

"Are you so incapable without someone telling you what to do?" I taunted as I ducked below a return strike.

I swung upwards and struck the cross with my hands. The added power I got from the Chivalrous Demon allowed me to knock the weapon out of his hands. His torso remained wide open for me to hit him with a devastating return hit. I knew that it wouldn't kill, but he had to feel it.

Mikha'el was nearly hyperventilating. The light that shone off of his armor illuminated his crazed eyes. Gone was the composure that he had shown before; only fear and madness remained.

"Do you know what it's like to experience the greatest day possible?" Mikha'el asked. "Can you picture the most beautiful day that you could ever imagine, surrounded by those you love most; perfect in every conceivable way as the divine crafted it specifically for you?"

"I can't say that I have," I said as I threw a punch that was met with a skewering strike. My middle finger popper off my right hand.

"Imagine, you fall asleep. Satisfied. Happy. At peace. Just as your joy could not get any greater, you wake up to that day restarted. You might not notice it at first, your euphoria too great to be pierced by reality. However, that knowledge begins to creep into your brain. You're the only one that realizes it. Nothing, nobody other than you are real. You can try to convince others of the reality and they may even believe you, but they are made to forget. Only you carry that truth to the next day. You are the only person that's real. Even in a room full of people, you are locked in a cage. Can you ever call that Heaven?"

"I'd call it shit."

"Grace freed me from that endless torture disguised as bliss," Mikha'el said with a shaky voice. "She told me that all was not right; that our creator was missing and that the world, humanity, all suffered with me. She told me that I could change things, save them from the prisons they reside in. By descending into Hell, I could build a real Heaven."

"Why not change Heaven directly?"

"Heaven doesn't have a System, I can only surmise that suppressing rebellion is the primary reason. I will need to bring it there myself. But, that can only be done when I have control over the System itself."

Was that Grace's plan; usurping Heaven by first usurping Hell?

"Is that all she wants? Are you certain that you aren't being used?"

"You dare question my savior? Do not worry, Grace, I will get you back immediately."

Mikha'el began to speak in rushed Latin. Phrases spilled out of his mouth. The words took form, turning to light and assailing me.

I jumped out of the way, but the projectiles turned to follow me. They riddled my body with stinging wounds, allowing my blood to flow out of the puncture wounds. My health tumbled to dangerously low levels.

I swooped in to take a refreshing bite out of the angel. My teeth sunk into his flesh, filling my mouth with his blood.

"Get off of me!"

A sharp sensation pierced a spot under my jaw. The scales and flesh provided no resistance as it ripped a hole in my tongue, went through my soft palate, and through my snout. All the health I had gained and more went away in and instant. All that was left was [Too Angry to Die] which had ended its cooldown while I was locked in the desert.

Mikha'el let go of the lance, keeping it lodged in my face while he kicked me away and attacked with the rest of his abilities at range.

The clock of my life quickly ticked down. One hundred seconds. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight.

I tried to reach for the lance, but he wouldn't let me. A barrage of words and his cross of light gave me no opening to get my mouth opened again. Dodging would not help me. I only had one course of action remaining.

A frenzy.

I allowed every attack to hit me in every conceivable way as long as it meant that I could counterattack. It was sloppy, all of it. A demi-god made of pure light having a panic attack because he could hear his goddess faced off against a dragon with his mouth sealed shut who acted like a punching bag to give one powerful strike in vengeance.

Seventy-two. Seventy-one. Seventy. Sixty-nine.

Mikha'el continued to crash into me. He could wait it out, but he wanted to leave no room for my survival. After what I had pulled the last time, I was certain the he knew I had to be gone entirely if he wanted to secure his victory. Each attack was met with a counter attack. My left arm was dislocated in exchange for a punch to the knee that left the angel hobbling. A shot of words to the eye for an [ICBM] to the chest.

Forty-eight. Forty-seven. Forty-six.

As we fought, it felt like Mikha'el's light was dimming. Was that due to the damage he had accumulated or his loss of connection to Grace? I had no time to debate the nature of his waning power, just pounce on it like a beast.

However, the terror spelled across his face made me believe it was the latter. His power was not local to Hell, the cut connection was like a car with its fuel line snapped. Eventually, the engine would sputter and die.

Thirty-six. Thirty-five. Thirty-four.

We were both on tight schedules. I threw haymaker after haymaker into his armor as he kept smashing his holy power into mine.

His armor was failing. His magic was failing. The room grew darker and darker as his breath grew more and more ragged. The darkness was drowning him. Invisible walls were closing in on him. The lost connection with Grace had gone on for a couple minutes and he was spiraling worse and worse.

Mikha'el tried to fend me off, keeping me at bay while simultaneously trying to keep me from retreating. It was not a game you could win. His footwork was falling apart.

His leg finally gave and he started to fall to one knee. I stepped in, my fist burning with the mana of every creature I had ever killed or consumed. Thousands of bodies and hopes and dreams and fears bubbled and surged to create the strongest punch I could ever deliver. It ripped towards Mikha'el's neck; the last effort for victory.

"Grace, forgive me."

[Bomber]

Mikha'el's throat exploded. His head popped off his shoulders and rolled along the ground.

Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

That did not stop my problem. I was still dying. I expected the Follies to show up and stop time. They did not arrive. Were they that mad that I wrecked their little playground?

Fine, I'd save myself.

I wrapped my hands around the lance. It did not budge; the holy power within it was far too great. It melted my fingers. I tried to regrow them, but they kept dissolving as soon as they came back. My tongue had been rendered into butter. The scales on my snout had sloughed off like a wet scab. Passion's unbreakable body was rendered useless in the face of something that wasn't crafted here. Did they know that these powers were not of this place?

I opened my inventory and got out some potions, but the lance in my mouth made it hard to absorb the contents. Anything that did slide down my throat burned away from the lance's powers.

I laughed and blood shot out of my mouth. This was the first time that anyone had managed to do this to me. Though, I didn't feel angry. I felt something more akin to serenity. What would I have done if not a single being down here was my match? Would I have been pleased or emptier than I had ever felt?

It did not matter, I had won and had to deal with the headache that came after it. At least I could have this short nap first.

As the timer hit zero, I felt my body go limp and begin to fall forward. My vision went black and all of my senses vanished.

I was dead.

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