The first step was slow.
Lucifer didn't rush. He walked into the center of the open space, the sound of his boots on the obsidian floor echoing in the stillness. Gluttony's king rolled his shoulders, each movement making his armor groan like it was alive. The black crystal cleaver in his hand pulsed with a dull red glow, runes crawling along its edge.
"You're going to regret this," the king said, voice like grinding stone.
Lucifer didn't answer. His claws flexed once. His tail—shadow and flame braided together—uncoiled behind him. The heat in the air climbed, not from the room, but from him.
The king made the first move. One step, and the floor cracked under his weight. He swung the cleaver in a wide arc, black fire screaming from its edge like a tidal wave. The blast tore across the hall, splitting the floor and shaking the walls.
