Five years had passed in the Black Eden, a crucible of shadows and blood where Lilith sculpted the Great Tyrants—Gills, Soehpt, Kira, Tyrnat, Yulius, Nera, Bhaadon, Solom, Orak, and Razhïel—like rough gems tempered in infernal fire. The inner gardens, a labyrinth of razor-sharp thorns and trees bearing rotten apples, stretched beneath a twilight sky where purple clouds swirled in a hypnotic dance. Blood-filled streams wound through beds of roses with cutting petals, and an enchanting mist hung in the air, heavy with the scent of wilted roses and damp ashes that clouded the mind.
On this day, the survivors stood in a central clearing, their bodies marked by five years of trials—scars, hardened muscles, sharpened gazes. Their armors, still crude compared to those they would later wear, gleamed with a dark luster, adorned with nascent runes etched by Lilith's succubi. The Rings of Tyranny—Intimidation, Seduction, Satiation, Property, Channeling, Calculator, Wrath, and Tyrant—glinted on their fingers, each pulsing with a distinct energy, but their glow seemed to flicker, as if awaiting a metamorphosis.
Lilith dominated the clearing from a dais of black stone veined with red, her scarlet dress rippling like a living stream, accentuating her curves with infinite grace. Her silver hair, shimmering with a lunar glow, cascaded in endless waves, and her amber eyes fixed on the Tyrants with an intensity blending pride and menace. Beside her, Morningstar stood with arms crossed, his six shadowy wings folded, his black armor adorned with pulsing runes glinting in the dim light. His red eyes, glowing beneath his helm, scanned the survivors with a mix of irony and curiosity, as if evaluating still-imperfect weapons.
"Five years," Lilith began, her velvety voice sliding through the air like a poisoned caress. "Five years breaking your weaknesses, polishing your souls. Today, you take a step… a fusion." She raised a hand, and the blood-filled streams around the clearing stirred, their flows converging toward an obsidian altar at the center. "Your rings—Intimidation, Seduction, and the others—are but fragments. They will become one. The Ring of Tyranny… your key to the Crown of Black Flames."
Morningstar grunted, his hoarse voice cutting through the silence. "Don't get cocky," he warned, a mocking smirk beneath his helm. "This is just the start. Fail, and those rings will consume you before Satan does." The succubi perched in the trees giggled, their membranous wings quivering, while the furies circled above, their shrill cries punctuating the heavy atmosphere.
Gills stepped forward, his scarlet flames crackling around his fists. Five years had solidified his stature, but a flicker of uncertainty still shone in his eyes. "What do we have to do?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with wariness. Lilith smiled, her full lips revealing a hint of subtle fangs. "Offer your rings to the altar," she replied. "And survive what they become."
The Tyrants exchanged tense glances—fragile trust, rivalries still sharp. Soehpt, his bond with Volgurax strengthened but still unstable, studied the altar with a scrutinizing gaze. "A fusion… It could amplify our powers," he murmured, his blue flames dancing like specters. "Or destroy us," he added, a bitter smile on his lips.
Kira, beside Gills, placed a hand on his shoulder, a familiar but discreet gesture, heavy with an intimacy yet to be revealed. "We've survived worse," she said, her Astrugg Cestuses glinting with an orange glow. "Let's do this." Her confidence masked a hint of worry, her eyes following Gills with possessive intensity.
Tyrnat sneered, his shadow scythe flickering in his hand. "Always playing the heroes," he mocked, shooting a provocative glance at Bhaadon. "And you, Nephalem? Still dreaming of your precious Gota?" Bhaadon clenched his fists, a stone levitating beside him, but Solom placed a calming hand on his arm, a golden spark dancing in his palm. "Ignore him," he whispered.
Yulius grunted, Massacre gleaming with a bloody sheen. "Let's get this over with," he muttered, his savagery tempered by nascent discipline. Nera wove her shadow threads, a sly smile on her lips. "A stronger ring? Intriguing," she murmured, her cursed dolls twitching. Orak, isolated, drove his spear into the ground, a frosty mist rising around him. "I trust nothing here," he growled. Razhïel, silent, adjusted his mask, Tenebris Lux glinting like an omen.
One by one, they approached the altar, placing their rings into a bubbling pool of blood at its center. The artifacts—Intimidation, Seduction, Satiation, and the others—sank into the scarlet liquid, which churned violently, black lightning crackling in a low rumble. Lilith raised her hands, her amber eyes glowing with a mystic light, and a wave of ominous energy enveloped the clearing, making the trees tremble and the furies howl.
The rings melted into the blood, their runes intertwining in a whirlwind of golden light and shifting shadows. A pulse resonated, synchronized with the Tyrants' heartbeats, and ten new rings emerged, glinting with a dark radiance, each adorned with a unique but unified rune. They flew to their bearers, wrapping around their fingers with a searing heat, as if sealing a deeper pact. A sharp pain stabbed their chests—Lilith's mark, already present, pulsing in response, binding their souls to the artifact.
Gills grunted, clenching his fist as the Ring of Tyranny settled, a golden glow glinting on his finger. An aura of instinctive terror emanated from him, less paralyzing than it would be in five years, but strong enough to make a succubus perched too close recoil. "This… works," he murmured, feeling an ancient anger—his amplified Wrath—simmering in his veins.
Soehpt felt a newfound clarity, his thoughts sharpened by the fused Calculator, able to detect subtle flaws in others' auras. "Interesting," he murmured, a sly smile on his lips. Kira felt a primal desire awaken, a subtle but powerful seduction radiating from her gaze, though she quickly suppressed it. "Not bad," she growled, her cestuses crackling with enhanced energy.
But the transformation came at a cost. A fleeting vision flashed through their minds—Satan, enthroned in a volcano of lava, his eyes glowing with a cruel promise. The rings pulsed with a heavier pact, a grip they didn't yet understand. Morningstar let out a rough laugh. "Feel that?" he said, his shadowy wings twitching. "Those rings own you… and they won't let go."
Lilith clapped her hands, and a trial erupted—Blood Thorns, surging from the ground, their spines dripping with venom. "Prove your worth!" she commanded, a cruel smile on her lips. The Tyrants reacted, their new rings amplifying their powers without summoning their Chaos Forms, still out of reach at this stage.
Gills unleashed a torrent of scarlet flames, more precise than before, charring a thorn in a crackle. A succubus, drawn by the aura of his new Ring of Tyranny, approached too closely, her eyes glowing with hypnotized desire. "Magnificent…" she murmured, her wings quivering as she reached for him. Gills, startled, stepped back, but his aura—a mix of amplified intimidation and seduction—made her sigh, nearly entranced.
Kira, noticing the scene, clenched her fists, a flicker of jealousy crossing her eyes. "Back off," she growled at the succubus, her cestuses igniting as she pulverized a nearby thorn, her strike more brutal than necessary. She shot Gills a look, a mix of reproach and possessiveness, but he shook his head, a faint smile on his lips, a shared secret between them—their bond, still hidden from the others, pulsing beneath the surface.
Soehpt sliced a thorn with a Soul Blade, his blue flames brighter, guided by precise channeling. Tyrnat summoned a Clawed Specter, his shadows denser, while Yulius slashed a thorn with Massacre, his blood amplifying his strength. Nera wove her shadow threads, binding a thorn, and Bhaadon levitated a stone to crush it, his rage channeled by the ring. Solom unleashed a golden bolt, Orak froze a thorn, and Razhïel sliced with Tenebris Lux, a dark rune glinting.
The thorns retreated, defeated, and Lilith clapped slowly, her eyes sparkling. "One step closer," she murmured. "But five more years… and you'll be my perfect blades." Morningstar grunted, a mocking smirk beneath his helm. "If they don't break first," he said, his wings beating once before he vanished into the shadows.
The Tyrants, panting, felt their rings pulse, a promise of power… and chains. Gills placed a hand on Kira's shoulder, a fleeting but loaded gesture, soothing her silent jealousy. Bhaadon, eyes fixed on the altar, whispered, "Gota…" Their path to the Crown of Black Flames grew clearer, but the shadows of Lilith and Satan loomed larger behind them.