The Devilish Belial's grin split wider, skin tearing at the corners like rotten parchment. Its stolen arm twitched, still slick with Raizel's blood. The Paragon's new armor hummed, its gilded edges seeping wisps of kinetic light as the air itself crystallized around him.
Raizel's visor blazed with wicked light as he dropped the sword from his shoulder, letting it ring hollowly across the silent battlefield. He unsheathed the second blade from his scabbard and cast it into the crater beneath.
The air thickened, suspended in anticipation. Even the drifting wind held its breath.
Then it began.
Raizel didn't move—he unfolded. A silver streak across the battlefield, his armored fist already mid-arc.
The Belial raised Night Terror's claw to block, but Raizel's speed doubled mid-swing, his velocity suddenly saturated with unnatural violence.
