Pure and Vile

Hemera had completed her task and was now scouting the surrounding area for any remaining threats, just as her lord had ordered.

Looking down at the ruined, lifeless valley below—littered with the corpses of mutated beasts—she let out a sharp screech and descended.

It wasn't even a fight. The majestic phoenix unleashed her divine light, and everything impure was reduced to ash in a brilliant blaze.

Master will be happy... I finished early this time, she thought cheerfully, shaking her wings and soaring back into the sky, chirping softly to herself.

But then, she froze mid-flight.

Her eyes widened as a sudden sensation washed over her—an urgent command from her lord. A call for help.

What happened!? Who dares to harm—

Her thoughts burned with righteous fury, but now wasn't the time to let emotions cloud her judgment. She needed to find Loki, regroup immediately, and fly to their master's side.

And she did, flying straight to where Loki was without hesitation. She dove from the sky like a blazing comet, then spread her wings just before touching down, landing softly on the ground.

Looking around, Hemera took in a scene of utter carnage. Hundreds of Abominations lay dead, their shattered souls scattered around. Atop the soul shards, Loki reclined comfortably, clearly enjoying himself as he admired his amassed treasures.

Hemera was stunned for a moment, but her confusion quickly gave way to irritation. She knew Loki had felt the same call for help, yet he had chosen to ignore it—preferring instead to indulge his endless greed.

A burst of light radiated from her as her voice, deep and furious, echoed from her beak.

"Loki! What do you think you're doing?!"

Loki glanced at her nonchalantly. The loathsome bird seemed completely unfazed by Hemera's anger. His golden eye narrowed, and a sound that resembled a laugh escaped him.

"Oh? What are you doing here, chicken?"

Hemera snorted, clearly not in the mood for his antics.

"You know something's wrong. We need to help Master. Let's go—now or many lives might be lost!"

Loki stood, spreading his wings, and replied simply:

"Nah."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. He can die if he wants. I don't care. Unlike you all, I never wanted to become his spirit. I was forced. So you guys can go fuck yourselves. I don't give a damn."

Hemera stared at him in disbelief. Before Klaus became Master, she had been weaker than Loki—but not anymore. Now, she was stronger than him, not just as an Awakened Terror, but as an Ascended Terror.

Spirits were like that. It was one of their unique traits. Since their very existence was tied to their master's spirit, if their master ascended, so would the spirits, because they were linked. That meant Klaus was forcing them to grow stronger by growing stronger himself.

When laying the foundation for creating spirits, Klaus used a spell's trait that forced those infected by it to awaken, using nightmares as a trigger. That same trait became the foundation of spirits as creatures—and instead of nightmares, it was Klaus himself who served as the trigger for their evolution.

Which meant that now Hemera was equal to Loki in rank, since they were both Ascended. But even so, she was still stronger—after all, she was a Terror, a higher class than Loki, who remained a Devil.

"Don't think you're still the stronger one here," she said coldly.

But Loki, as arrogant as ever, didn't even acknowledge her as a threat.

"And you don't seem to realize," he muttered, lounging on the soul shards, "that I don't give a damn if you are. Now shush—you're disturbing my hour of rest."

He spoke mockingly, still lazily counting soul shards.

But in the next instant, the temperature spiked—a wave of heat rippling through the air as Hemera shot toward him, cloaked in blazing fury.

Loki glanced at her, unfazed.

In a flash, he vanished, trading places with a fallen Abomination by stealing its spatial coordinates.

The soul shards spiraled around him, like memories orbiting soul core—until they were drawn inward, absorbed into his spirit through his attribute:

[Gluttony of the Gilded Cave] — a bottomless vault for stolen wonders.

He lowered his head, mockery dripping from his tone.

"You really wanna do this?

Well... not Christmas, but I'll enjoy the turkey."

And then, two majestic birds soared into the sky—one blazing with divine light, the other cloaked in malice and theft.

Hemera unleashed a sea of golden flames, lighting up the heavens with holy fire. The sky shimmered as her radiant inferno surged toward Loki. But in the next instant, he stole the water from the nearby river and hurled it upward, clashing with her flames.

The water hissed and boiled away—it wasn't strong enough to snuff out the flames of a phoenix.

Loki lost the exchange, but he wasn't out of tricks. With a wicked glint in his eye, he dove toward her, activating [Dream-Eater] in an attempt to steal her very resolve.

Hemera, however, was his equal in rank and resisted the mind attack… though it left her momentarily dazed.

That was all Loki needed.

With swift precision, he struck. Using attributes stolen from his earlier victims, his talons crackled with unstable energy. When they touched her, they detonated, blasting Hemera from the sky in a burst of light and sound.

Hemera rose from the shattered ground, fury blazing in her eyes as she glared up at the vile bird circling above.

But something felt… off.

Like she was forgetting something.

What is it…?

Wait...

Her eyes widened as she sensed it—there was a corpse behind her.

Too late.

In a blur, Loki stole its position, reappearing behind her with a wicked gleam. His beak sank into her flesh, and in that instant, she felt it—her intent, her resolve, her skills, even her attributes—being torn away, siphoned by the gluttonous force of his power.

But Hemera was no helpless prey.

With a cry of rage, she ignited herself, golden flames erupting from her body in a divine blaze. Loki hissed and retreated, smoke curling off his feathers.

She clutched her side, panting, eyes still locked on him.

This is dangerous… she thought grimly.

How is he still stronger than me?

But while Hemera guarded everything she thought mattered—her skills, her power, her will—she missed the true threat.

Loki had deceived her.

He made it seem as if he was going for the obvious: her attributes, her resolve, her combat prowess. But his true target was far more vital. In the chaos, with masterful subtlety, he siphoned away her essence.

Hemera staggered, her body trembling as she felt the drain. A cold emptiness gnawed at her cores. Across from her, Loki hovered, his presence now overwhelming—far more dangerous, more monstrous than he had been before.

She had never fought him. Klaus had never allowed it. And now she understood why.

Facing the Vile Thieving Bird—this creature of greed and malice—felt like fighting a nightmare that should not exist.

She was no longer the radiant phoenix she had been just moments ago. The battle had bled her dry. And now, without her essence, she was a hollowed version of herself.

And yet… she fought.

She rose, only to fall.

She stood again—bloodied, burning, unyielding—only to be struck down once more.

And again.

And again.

But still, her spirit refused to break.

Loki, frustrated by her unbreakable will, screeched in fury. His voice cut through the air—bitter, cold, and venomous.

"Just stay down! Who do you think you are?! I am the most loathsome being in all of creation! The vilest, the most wicked! You think you can stand against me?! Me?!"

He paused, his wings flaring as mocking laughter escaped his curved beak.

"Ah… I remember now. That pathetic line of yours… 'Where I have passed, life will bloom again.'"

He leaned forward, voice a cruel whisper, filled with spite.

"Well then… let me offer my truth: 'There where I have passed… the grass shall never grow again.'"

Across the battlefield, Hemera rose once more. Her feathers were scorched. Her body trembled. But her eyes—those golden, sunlit eyes—held something strange.

A flicker of quiet sorrow. And an undying spark of defiance.

"Who am I…?" she echoed softly. Then, her voice rose like a hymn.

"Loyalty to justice defines my very soul. I am Hemera, Child of Daylight! And I do not strike with hatred... I burn with justice, drawn from the fire of the divine!"

For a moment, the scorched earth seemed to shimmer in her light.

Loki sneered, his golden eye narrowing in disgust.

"How convenient... to be born from flame of desire. But remember, little phoenix... I was born to steal even that."

Hemera looked at him, something in her gaze shifting—deeper now, more understanding. A flicker of sorrow appeared in her eyes as she lowered her head. But when she raised it again, her golden eyes were no longer filled with just pain.

They burned with hope.

"You're not wicked or vile, Loki… I don't care what the world says. No one is born evil. There's no such thing as inherent darkness."

She stepped forward slowly, her voice steady and sincere.

"We are all shaped by the world around us—by the pain, the cruelty, the fear. We adapt to survive in a broken world. Even you…"

Her light shimmered gently, not in judgment, but in quiet understanding.

"And that means… even you can change."

She spoke, her voice strained from pain, golden ichor dripping down her battered form. Yet even as her body faltered, her spirit stood tall. Hemera had not lost hope. The fury that once burned from injustice had settled, transformed into something gentler—deeper.

Her heart, even now, burned with love and kindness.

"You were hated just for existing... because of the blood within you. But there's nothing wrong with simply being alive—truly."

Her eyes met his, steady and unwavering, filled not with pity, but with sorrow and warmth.

"You lost your freedom... your wings... everything you once cherished... all because your ancestor stole the divine flame."

She stepped closer, her voice soft as a whisper, yet stronger than any flame.

"But it was never your fault. Not then. Not now. And now… you're free."

Loki stared at her blankly, the fury and bitterness smoldering in his golden eye. Then he spat on the scorched ground with cold disdain.

"You're just a naive fool, Hemera. Clinging to childish dreams. I'll crush you... and your foolish hope along with you."

Hemera tilted her head, her body trembling as she struggled to rise to her feet again. Even bloodied and broken, her voice was gentle—steady.

"I won't fall... not until you find the redemption you deserve."

Loki's eye twitched. He narrowed it with cruel amusement before letting out a bitter laugh. Then, with a snarl, he struck.

His talons slashed down in a savage arc. His beak tore through her shoulder. Wings—those radiant, divine wings—were ripped from her back in a spray of golden ichor.

Hemera collapsed, her light dimming.

Drenched in her sacred blood, Loki snorted and turned away, his voice quiet and cold as he walked off the battlefield.

"Die with your hope, Phoenix."

But then… he heard a voice.

Faint, ragged, yet defiant.

Trembling with fury, Loki turned his head sharply—only to freeze.

Hemera's broken body was moving.

Shaking, drenched in golden ichor, her wings torn from her back and one eye missing, she was still… standing. Somehow.

She lifted her head slowly, barely able to speak.

"S-see...? I'm still... standing..."

And then—she collapsed. Not falling, but fainting upright, her body refusing to kneel even in unconsciousness.

Loki stared at her, unmoving.

His rotten heart twisted in confusion and something darker. Something he didn't want to name.

His wings twitched.

He stepped forward, rage burning behind his eyes, preparing to finish it—to silence her light once and for all.

But then... he froze.

He couldn't do it...

No matter how much he wanted to. He just couldn't...

Why? Why? Why? WHY!?

He stood there for a long, bitter moment. Then exhaled slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

"Stupid chicken…"

And with a sharp beat of his wings, he turned away—soaring into the sky, leaving her broken but unbowed on the battlefield.

***

Whoa! That fight was insane, huh? I absolutely loved writing the dynamic between Loki and Hemera—there's something so tragic and beautiful about it. My girl may have lost the battle, but definitely not the war. Even as he was tearing her apart, she still tried to save him... Hemera is just too pure and kind for a world like Shadow Slave, seriously.

I was so hyped for this fight, I ended up finishing it today—five chapters in one day! I didn't even realize until I looked back and was like, "Wait, when did I write all this?!" Totally drained now, but it was worth it.

Anyway, the most important thing is that you guys enjoy it—so have fun, and let me know what you think!

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