Damien's feet slammed into the earth like a warhammer crashing from the heavens.
His staff hit first—glowing red from condensed mana, streaking down like a divine execution.
The demon twisted at the last moment.
It didn't dodge—it blocked.
Both arms raised in an unnatural, bone-breaking angle to intercept.
Boooooooom!!
The force cracked the field in a perfect ring, the shockwave rippling outward like water across shattered stone.
Dust exploded. Essence flared red and silver and black.
Arielle shielded her face. Aquila tensed, wings half-spread in instinctive defense.
And then—silence…
Damien stood, shoulders rising with each breath, staff embedded deep in the demon's forearms. The creature's arms had split open, bent backward in impossible directions, and black ichor ran down its sides in thick rivers.
But it still lived.
Barely.
