'I have no choice!'
The masked man, or rather, Rias, had not felt like this in a long time.
Desperation mounted him like a steed.
The kick he took to the chin resounded within his Broader Existence elsewhere. Ever so slightly, it took damage.
That was the trade-off, indeed. This body he had made – immune to mana and thrice as powerful as his last – including his soul, were especially vulnerable to intense damage (damage Rias hadn't thought he'd endure, of course).
'I have to rely on Aimon to kill her!' the masked man decided.
…But just as his Amras surged, it tattled on his desires unintentionally.
Kintar's keen eyes noted it. Or was it her new skill that did?
Her left hand released Rias' right arm and rushed to grab his face, forcing him to look away from her. She then wound her right arm around the back of the masked man's neck, catching him in a vice, and struck his face (mask) thrice with her heel. It was spiteful work.
