​The figure dropped without a sound.

​One moment, it was a mere shadow clinging to the skull’s mouth. The next, it stood upon the air itself, suspended between Cinco and the abyss below.

​Its veil drifted despite the lack of a breeze. Beneath the fabric, no face existed. There was only a hollow density: a void where space had been carved out to make room for a head.

​The obsidian blade in its hand hummed hungrily. It glittered, reflecting the crimson gloom of the Gallows’ expanse.

​Cinco swallowed. He gripped the bars of his cage tighter.

​“Yeah. I don’t like that at all.”

​The executioner tilted its head.

​Then it moved, erasing the distance.

​One instant it was meters away. The next, its blade had already bypassed the iron bars of the cage. The metal offered no more resistance than smoke. The cold edge carved a thin, stinging line across Cinco’s chest.

​Cinco froze.

​A second passed.

​Then: SHWIN!

​Light burst from the wound.

​It tore out of him in a violent stream, brighter and denser than anything he had felt before. The radiance spiraled, sucked straight into the executioner’s blade.

​The weapon drank. Its hum deepened into a satisfied, vibrating thrum.

​Cinco gasped as his body locked up.

​“Ah! Damn it!”

​His knees buckled. He forced himself to stay upright, his teeth gritted in a snarl. The cage swung wildly from the sudden, desperate shift in his weight.

​Down below, Lionel felt the shift.

​This was no longer a passive siphoning.

​“It’s harvesting,” he muttered.

​Lionel staggered back. A surge of foreign energy slammed into him: raw, unfiltered, and violent.

​Cinco’s will was no longer a mere leak. It was being forcibly torn apart.

​And yet, pieces of it were still reaching him.

​Fragments.

​Defiance.

​Anger.

​Fear, now refined into something sharper. It was closer to breaking, yet somehow stronger.

​Lionel clutched his head.

​“No. No, this is different.”

​Above, Cinco let out a ragged laugh despite the searing pain.

​“Okay! So this is the premium package, huh?!”

​The executioner paused.

​That was not the reaction it expected.

​Cinco’s hand shot up. He gripped the blade at the exact point where it intersected his chest.

​The moment his palm touched the steel, his skin hissed. It burned from the contact of darkness against his light. Smoke curled between his fingers.

​But he did not let go.

​“Hey,” Cinco gasped, forcing a bloody grin. “If you’re gonna rob me, at least let me see what you’re taking.”

​The executioner’s veil twitched.

​For the first time, the blade resisted. The entity was growing frustrated.

​The flow of light stuttered.

​Down below, Lionel’s eyes widened.

​“He’s interrupting the flow?”

​Cinco pulled. It was only a fraction of an inch, dragging the blade slightly out of his chest.

​It was enough.

​The stream of light fractured into a chaotic spray of rays.

​Lionel didn't wait to receive the energy this time. He reached out and grabbed it.

​His shackles simmered.

​CRACK!

​A sharp sound split the chamber. Thin lines of silver began to fracture across the black metal of his restraints.

​The star within him pulsed once: heavy and violent.

​Yes. This is the anger I was looking for. “Again!” Lionel shouted, his voice echoing toward the ceiling. “Do that again!”

​Cinco blinked through the red haze of his vision.

​“You want me to, what, fight the reaper?!”

​“Yes!”

​The executioner moved again. It was faster this time, driven by a spectral rage.

​Its free hand snapped forward. It gripped Cinco by the throat and slammed him against the back of the cage. The bars bent from the sheer force of the impact.

​“AGH!” Cinco yelped.

​The blade drove deeper.

​The darkness created a searing reaction against his light. His essence surged as his will fought back against the intrusion.

​Cinco’s vision blurred.

​“Yeah,” he choked out, his voice barely holding together. “I’m definitely charging extra for this.”

​His hand never left the blade.

​His other hand reached up slowly. He tipped his Stetson forward.

​He shaded his eyes, trying to hide the pain tearing through them.

​“Don’s gonna owe me everything after this.”

​His grip tightened in pure refusal. He fought back the shadows of desperation and sorrow that threatened to infect his will.

​The light poured out even faster as it struggled.

​The executioner’s arm trembled.

​The blade vibrated violently, caught between two opposing forces.

​Below, Lionel felt the essence roar through his veins.

​The stolen energy ignited something dormant. Gold veins of light erupted beneath his skin. They spread from the Capricorn glyph on his back, climbing past his bandages and racing toward the shackles on his arms.

​The darkness of the cell sunk into his skin, fueling the fire.

​For the first time since his capture, the cell felt less like a prison and more like kindling.

​“MORE!” Lionel shouted. He slammed his chained fists against the bars. “Don’t let it take you clean! Make it choke on you!”

​Cinco let out a broken, wheezing laugh.

​“Man. You are insane.”

​The executioner raised its blade for a final, decisive pull.

​Cinco leaned forward into the strike.

​“Good,” he whispered.

​The pull came: violent and absolute.

​Cinco pushed back with everything he had left.

​The resulting backlash exploded through the spectral tether.

​Lionel’s shackles cracked. A single link shattered and fell.

​That was all he needed: a slight loss in the chain’s suppression.

​His wings burst outward in a storm of black and gold. They slammed against the confines of the cell as a shockwave ripped across the chamber floor.

​The skull’s scream changed frequencies. The sound of hunger turned into a shrill warning for the executioner. 

​Lionel lifted his head slowly. His eyes were no longer human. They burned with a radiant, star-forged gold, his pupils slit like a cat.

​“...Your turn,” he growled.

​Above, the executioner finally hesitated. It felt the oppressive power shift.