Enoch's hands fell away from Eos's wrist, and his body was a ruin. His left arm was gone, and his chest was split open from sternum to shoulder.
His throat was a ragged hole, and his face, the absence that had been so terrible and absolute, was now a map of wounds, each one weeping darkness, each one screaming.
While Eos was stabbing, Enoch had been exploding with the power of End, tearing the void to pieces, but Eos had been methodical, making sure that although he was losing one, Enoch would pay a million for each of those losses.
There was no space in his mind for anything else but to butcher Enoch in the most efficient manner possible.
At first, Enoch had been fiery, cursing and condemning Eos, but slowly his attitude began to change.
From arrogance to anger and then astonishment to wariness and from wariness to fear, and that fear was something that Enoch did not know he could feel, could not understand how he could feel it.
