Present Day

"Demon," Elara said, her voice cold with controlled fury as she stood amid the wreckage of her phoenix entrance. Flames still licked at the edges of the room, casting dancing shadows across her uncle's familiar features. "What have you done with my uncle?"

The thing wearing Nicalo's face smiled, no longer bothering with perfect charade. "Your uncle? He's been dead for years, dear niece. I've been taking such good care of his legacy."

The words carried cruel amusement, each syllable designed to twist the knife deeper.

"Where is he?" Elara's voice cracked despite her control, hope and desperation bleeding through her anger. "Is any part of him still..."

"Still hoping?" The demon's expression shifted to mock sympathy. "How touching. No, child. I devoured him completely. Every memory, every skill, every last scrap of his pathetic existence serves me now."

Elara's rage exploded like a solar flare.

Elara's fire blade erupted into existence with a sound like thunder, crimson flames wreathing the weapon as she channeled every ounce of her fury into a devastating overhead strike. The heat radiating from her weapon was so intense it turned the air itself into shimmering waves, and her crimson aura flared around her like the birth of a star.

The demon wearing her uncle's face didn't dodge or flinch, instead, it summoned Nicalo's own heavy sword with casual precision. But this was a mockery of the weapon she remembered, corrupted and enhanced beyond mortal limits. The familiar steel now glowed with infernal heat, shadow-flames dancing along its edge in patterns that hurt to look at directly. When it moved, the blade left trails of darkness in the air, as if reality itself was being cut.

Their weapons met in a collision that shattered windows throughout the ruined mansion. The clash of steel rang out like a cathedral bell struck by lightning, and sparks, both crimson fire and abyssal shadow, erupted outward in a shower of conflicting energies that scorched the walls and ceiling.

Elara pressed her attack with relentless fury, her blade work a masterpiece of precision and power. But with each strike she threw, the demon countered with Nicalo's own techniques, the defensive forms he'd taught her as a child, the combination attacks they'd practiced together, even the subtle footwork adjustments he'd helped her perfect over years of training.

It was like fighting a corrupted mirror of her own education, every cherished memory of their training sessions now turned into a weapon against her.

"Give him back!" Elara screamed, her fire blade clashing with the demon's enhanced weapon in a shower of sparks that illuminated the destroyed room.

She fought with everything she had, but part of her still searched for any sign of her real uncle. Some trace of the man who'd taught her swordplay, who'd supported her dreams, who'd loved her unconditionally.

In a moment where the demon's blade nearly took her head, a single tear of grief fell from Elara's eye onto the creature's hand.

For just an instant, the demonic corruption flickered,

A translucent hand touched her shoulder from behind. Count Nicalo's true voice, warm and loving, whispered: "Become the Archon once again, my dear. I believe in you."

The spirit faded like morning mist, but its message was clear. Her uncle was gone. Had been gone for years.

Elara's hesitation vanished. Her flames burned brighter as grief and rage merged into something pure and terrible.

"You're not him," she said, her voice carrying the finality of judgment. "You never were."

****

Seeing his deception exposed, the demon dropped the loving uncle act entirely. Nicalo's features twisted into something alien and cruel.

"Clever girl. Yes, your precious uncle has been dead for four years. I've been wearing his face, walking in his skin, planning your demise." The thing that had been pretending to be family gestured mockingly around the destroyed mansion. "My name is Azaroth Pyron, the Inferno Knight. Your death serves a purpose greater than you could ever imagine, little Archon."

The girl doesn't need to know about the Supreme Curia's plans, Azaroth thought with satisfaction. Or Abyssus Nullara's role in the Mother's resurrection. Let her die ignorant of the true scope of what comes for this world.

"Kill the blessed of fire, weaken the blessed of sun," the demon continued aloud. "With you gone, the Sun Empress loses her greatest weapon. The Wrath of God dies with you, dear niece."

As Azaroth spoke, his stolen form began to change. Nicalo's familiar features stretched and distorted like wax in a flame. Skin darkened to charcoal black, eyes multiplied into burning coals, and the beloved face melted away to reveal the nightmare beneath.

What emerged defied mortal comprehension, the towering entity of shadow and fire from the dungeon four years ago. Jagged black feathers formed wing-like appendages that scraped the mansion's ceiling, a single burning red eye replaced human features, and crimson energy wrapped around the creature like a vortex of blood and flame.

The transformation's completion launched both combatants through the mansion's roof in an explosion of debris and hellfire.

****

High above the burning capital, Elara and Azaroth clashed in mid-air like fallen stars. Her fire blade carved burning arcs across the night sky while the demon's molten claws and shadow-fire wings spread wide like a blot against the constellation.

Citizens throughout the capital pointed skyward in awe and terror as gods battled above their heads. Each collision of their powers sent shockwaves that shattered windows for miles, sparks and embers falling like meteors to illuminate the faction warfare below.

Elara's greatsword sent crescents of flame the size of buildings at the demon. Azaroth blocked with jagged wings, retaliating with torrents of shadow-fire that turned clouds to steam and air to superheated plasma.

Their final aerial clash sent both plummeting to the ground like twin comets. They impacted in a massive crater, the shockwave flattening nearby buildings and sending tremors through the capital's foundations.

Both rose from the smoking ruin, battered but unbroken.

****

The ground battle began immediately.