Duke Haborym did not waste a single mont. His grip tightened, the muscles in his arm bulging grotesquely as he attempted to crush Corbin’s neck on the spot, his fingers digging in with enough force to shatter bone like glass.
But before that force could be fully realized...
Swish!
A streak of golden light split the space between them. In the next instant, Corbin’s body dropped from the Duke’s grasp, crashing onto the ground below and coughing violently as he rolled across the shattered earth. Clutched tightly in his hand was the Duke’s severed arm, its fingers still locked in the position they held monts ago.
Duke Haborym’s eyes widened. He had not seen it, not even a trace. From the corner of his vision, he caught sight of the shelled archangel and realized it was responsible for the strike, yet he had no ti to act against Gilbert.
Damian was already there.
Standing directly before him.
Azure flas roared to life around Damian’s fist, their glow violent and suffocating as they twisted around his arm like a living storm. His eyes were cold and empty, devoid of hesitation.
His arm blurred and one strike beca many.
Damian’s clawed hand tore forward, leaving behind overlapping afterimages as his azure flas erupted with each motion, carving into Duke Haborym’s body with relentless brutality. Flesh split open under his claws, blood spraying as each strike dug deeper than the last.
"GRAAAAAAH!"
Duke Haborym roared as Damian’s claws ripped across his torso, leaving behind vicious trails of destruction that refused to close. The pain was not rely physical. It gnawed at sothing deeper, sothing that made even a Duke recoil.
His response was imdiate. His remaining arm shot out.
A devastating right hand tore through the air, aid to crush Damian entirely. But Damian had already moved. He dipped low, and the massive strike passed just above him, splitting the air with explosive force as he slipped beneath it with fluid precision.
And then he struck.
His fist drove upward.
Boom!
It slamd into Duke Haborym’s abdon with crushing force, but it did not stop there. At the mont of impact, a violent jet of azure flas erupted from his knuckles, blasting forward like a concentrated burst of destruction.
The added propulsion amplified the strike beyond its natural limit, and the explosion rang out.
"UGHH—!"
Duke Haborym’s body folded slightly from the impact before he was sent hurtling backward, his massive fra tearing through the air as he was driven several ters away.
His feet slamd against the ground, skidding violently as he struggled to stabilize himself. The earth cracked beneath each forced step, deep trenches carving into the ruined street as he fought to halt his montum.
Finally, he dropped to one knee.
A sharp cough tore from his throat as dark blood spilled from his mouth, splattering onto the shattered ground beneath him.
Duke Haborym was bleeding.
Damian’s heart pounded with excitent, yet more than ever he needed to catch his breath. Even with his constitution, his body was already nearing its limits.
This was bad because after dealing with Duke Haborym, he would still have to face Corbin and his archangel companion. Even though he was confident he could kill the two of them, if he ran out of stamina first, he would not be able to defend against them, especially since Gilbert had yet to directly involve himself.
"Haborym... It’s over." Gilbert’s voice echoed from a distance, directed at the kneeling demon.
Its tone carried contempt and a quiet superiority that made Damian’s irritation flare. He despised the way angels carried themselves, always looking down on others.
"Over?" Duke Haborym scoffed, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Do you truly believe we true demons can be defeated by two humans and a diocre archangel?" Duke Haborym laughed as he slowly rose to his feet, and the tension in the air thickened instantly.
Gilbert drifted backward without a word, increasing the distance between them. Damian quickly settled into a fighting stance while Corbin struggled to rise, dragging along the oversized weapons with him. The reddened imprint of the Duke’s grip was still visible on his neck.
"This is the kind of speech the boss gives before unleashing his strongest move," Damian muttered with a frown.
His instincts scread danger, yet his pride refused to let him retreat.
"A skill?" Corbin scoffed, though beneath the surface he was just as tense as Damian.
"Your kind don’t use a skill when they’re about to die. They transform completely into monsters. So yes, it’s bad. Twice as bad as you think."
[Racist but true. In our defense, transformation skills are usually our strongest abilities]
Damian’s heart sank at those words and the system’s confirmation. As absurd as it sounded, he was beginning to see the pattern. Even the devil had taken on a draconic form to battle Michael.
Thinking back, when he had nearly been defeated by Bathin, it had been that transformation that pushed the fight to its peak. Damian realized, with a cold clarity, that he was not very different from them.
Unfortunately, he had no ti to dwell on it.
Duke Haborym began to laugh.
It started low.
A broken, guttural sound that crawled out from deep within his throat, like sothing ancient and buried beneath layers of restraint. With each passing second, it grew louder, fuller, swelling into a manic, thunderous roar that shook the very air.
"Hahahahahahahaha...!"
The ground beneath him trembled as his body began to change.
At first, it was subtle. A twitch in his shoulders. A ripple beneath his skin. Then the muscles along his back began to bulge unnaturally, swelling as if sothing inside him was forcing its way out.
Crack!
A sharp, sickening sound echoed.
His spine arched violently, his torso expanding as bones shifted and realigned beneath his flesh. Veins thickened and darkened, spreading like black roots beneath his skin as his demonic force surged uncontrollably.
"GRAAAAAAHHH!!!"
He roared, throwing his head back as his body convulsed.
Then it happened.
His flesh split open, not from injury, but from growth.
Witnessing the grotesque transformation unfold before him, Damian felt a chill run through him. The sight alone was enough to confirm it.
Corbin had been right.
The system had been right.
They were no longer fighting Duke Haborym.
They were about to face a monster.
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