Azazel's sword carved through Cain's flesh and muscle in a single brutal arc. For an instant, the Depravita's aura faltered—its intensity dropping noticeably. It was clear that whatever technique Azazel had used to land an instant attack on Cain carried a massive cost. The strike's sheer force must have drained him.
Azazel, however, didn't seem concerned. That attack had been meant to do more than just physical harm as it reached all the way to the soul, paralyzing the mind, robbing Cian of his abiltyt ot fight back while the Depravita recovered his strength.
Or at least… that was what should have happened.
Before Azazel could even draw his next breath, two burning red eyes blazed before him—so bright, so alive with power, that it seemed as though the sky itself had been replaced by twin scarlet stars.
Then came the fist.
