The human reader fights and attempts to survive against Stolas, the reader sadly does not survive the attack from Stolas himself.

Dread gnawed at the corners of your stomach as the clock neared midnight. The tick-tock of the looming threat throbbed in your ears, a countdown to an appointment you wished you could cancel. This wasn't your typical enemy; this was Stolas, a powerful demon from the Helluva Boss series you had somehow been transported into. With the sky a riot of dimming hues, you steeled your resolve. You were armed with only your emotional grit, and that had to be enough. You reminded yourself repeatedly that this wasn't your everyday reality, instead, a perverse, distorted version. No matter the ending, fighting was your only option. Ever since you crossed paths with Stolas, his blood-red eyes had you in their sights. He was relentless, but this darkness was not of your design, and you refused to become prey to the whims of a demon. Stolas emerged from the darkness, his stature imposing, and a sinister grin on his face. His silhouette against the moon made him look more savage. He laughed, a sound that echoed dread through the eerie silence. Your pulse hammered in your ears, but you held your ground, rage and fear fueling your courage. You looked at him, standing unflinchingly before a demon, praying your defiance would deter his intentions. "You cannot win this, can you?" He stared, his voice an insidious lullaby that chilled your spine. "I can try," you replied, preferring to throw the last bits of energy you had into surviving than accept your doom. The fight, when it started, was brutal. Stolas was everything a demon from Hell should be: ruthless, cruel, and immeasurably strong. You dodged his strikes, countered when you could, and scrambled away from the deadly claws tearing the ground where you had just been standing. Despite your efforts, Stolas was winning. His laughter rang in your ears as you fell to the ground, winded from a particularly ruthless blow. The realization finally sunk in. This was it. Despite the fight you put up, despite your will to survive, Stolas had the upper hand. Still, you refused to give up, scrambling to your feet with great effort only to be knocked back down again. Stolas regarded you with a kind of sadistic fascination, yet with a glimmer of admiration for your tenacity. Time was slowing down. You could see the final blow coming, yet had no power to stop it. In those last moments, your thoughts raced to memories of a time before this madness, of the normal life you had once had. You closed your eyes, welcoming the darkness. And then it came, the lethal stroke that snuffed out your life. Your endurance had run its course. Your terror gave way to peace, and pain gave in to sweet oblivion. Your fight was over. Stolas stood triumphant, the midnight moon casting long, daunting shadows upon the figure that had claimed another unfortunate soul.