It's a Hell of a fight - literally. Champion against Champion, Zerxus against a fighter he remembers hearing of, once, but whose identity is now lost to him; they are but an enemy for him to fight, though he supposes, in the back of his mind, they could have been friends. So many of those he fights, he could have been friends with, but for the simple fact that these are not his fights to choose; he is bound to Asmodeus's command, to his soul contract, for what may as well be eternity.

It already feels like eternity, though it seems like only yesterday that Avalir fell. That the Calamity began. That day of revelations, of trust given and broken, and belief that damned him - belief he still holds, for if it is one thing Asmodeus cannot overwrite, it is what makes Zerxus Zerxus. Be it hubris or faith, Zerxus holds on to it, even as he loses consciousness from the next merciless strike to his head.

Good, is his last thought. For while he fights for Asmodeus, no one doubts the fact that his heart is elsewhere. Forever searching the stars for its soulmate, just as that soulmate reaches out for him, in turn. One day, they may even be reunited.

This day, though, he falls. And when he wakes up, he is surprised to find himself not back in the Hells- and moreso to find that the chokehold he has felt on his very being, his soul, has lessened. He sits up, a hand flying to his forehead, and- no. Those are still there. But-

But the battle is over. There is nothing here but the dead, he realizes, as he looks around and sees the crows picking at those left.