The fight didn't last as long as they expected.
Lucifer hit the first adversary before it could even get its bearings. His hand closed around its throat, and the creature's eyes went wide—not from pain, but from recognition. It knew what was holding it. A Progenitor. A real one.
The shadows didn't just crush. They consumed.
By the time Lucifer dropped the body, it was already ash. No speech. No declaration. Just efficiency.
Ken tackled a second adversary mid-rise, his claws digging into its shoulder as he drove it back into the rubble. The thing tried to phase through him, but Ken's grip had shifted—his aura was different now, denser, like his own evolution had been waiting for permission.
Angel was on another before it could stand, flames already burning through its defenses. She didn't give it room to breathe. She just kept pressing, burning, cutting.
