Armada's dao, held in a reverse grip, flashed past X's throat—close enough for the air to split in its wake. X leaned back just enough to avoid the blade, his movement sharp and precise, then stepped in to counter with a straight punch aimed at Armada's gut. The Demon Lord caught his wrist mid-swing with his free hand, his grip tightening like a vice. "Not going to be easy now," Armada growled, his voice low and edged with menace. The pressure on X's hand spiked—bones cracked, then shattered entirely. Blood sprayed as jagged white fragments tore through skin. Before X could even register the pain, Armada's dao slashed across his abdomen, the steel biting deep, then drove upward into his side, piercing through ribs and tearing into both lungs and his heart in one brutal motion. Armada grinned, the rush of dominance lighting his expression. "Didn't even last a few seconds once I got serious," he mocked, releasing his grip and letting X's limp body fall to the ground. He blinked—
Armada charged, dao reversed in hand. The blade swept toward X's throat, but X slipped past it effortlessly, pivoting on his heel and spinning behind the Demon Lord. The sudden move caught Armada off guard—just in time for X's heel to drive into the side of his knee. "Ugh!" Armada grunted in pain, staggering back. He quickly drew his pistol and fired two laser-like shots in rapid succession. Both struck—one burning through X's throat, the other punching a hole through his chest where his heart should've been. Armada let out a breathless laugh. "Landed a hit. Barely lasted a few seconds once I got serious," he taunted, smirking as he blinked.
"Ugh!" Armada let out a grunt of pain, stumbling as he fired two quick shots. X ducked beneath the first and sidestepped the second, his movements blurring like frames skipping in fast-forward. In an instant, he was on Armada.
The Demon Lord barely registered the hits before they landed—jaw, temple, throat, ribs, liver—each one clean, surgical, and faster than thought. The final blow came as a savage uppercut between his legs. Armada froze, eyes wide, the sound that escaped him more strangled than pained.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" he barked, voice breaking slightly as he staggered back, clutching himself.
X straightened, shaking out his bloodied fist, smirking behind the skull mask. "Look around you," he said, gesturing loosely at the ruined street. "Does this look like a place we're supposed to fight honorably? Nope. This is a street fight—and anything goes."
Armada gritted his teeth, rage flashing in his eyes as he swung his dao in a wide, vicious arc. X leapt back to avoid the strike—but that was exactly what the Demon Lord had planned. A pulse of dark energy surged along the weapon's edge, and as the blade cut through the air, a crescent wave of demonic energy burst forth, mirroring the swing. It carved through the street—and through X—splitting him cleanly in half. "Ha! Anything goes, right!?" Armada barked out, triumphant, before he blinked—
Armada swung his dao. X lunged forward, springing over the attack and driving his knee into Armada's nose with a sharp crack. The blast of demonic energy that had been meant to cut him down instead tore through the street, splitting asphalt and stone around the crater where they fought. "How are you dodging everything!?" Armada snarled, stumbling back, blood streaming from his nose.
"Not telling," X replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "That would give me a slight disadvantage—and I don't want that now, do I?" He spun, his movement smooth and abrupt, the heel of his boot smashing into Armada's jaw. The force of the kick sent the Demon Lord flying backward, his body crashing through the cracked pavement before slamming spine-first into a lamppost. Metal groaned and bent under the impact, tearing partially free from the ground before the post toppled over, crashing down on top of him.
"So," X said, standing over the wreckage, "you want to keep going?"
Armada's response came in the form of a furious snarl as he slashed at X's legs. X hopped lightly over the strike—almost casual, as if he'd known it was coming—and countered with a quick kick to the face that snapped Armada's head to the side.
"Yeah, seriously," X said, lowering his foot. "Just give up. I've had enough of dealing with you, to be honest."
Armada clutched his bleeding nose, glaring up at him with fury burning behind his eyes. Before either could move, a calm voice cut through the tension.
"Doing it in a small localized area?" Sarandel's tone was observational as she approached, her steps measured. "Makes sense. Uses significantly less mana compared to doing it everywhere—and keeps his eyes off you as well."
"Thanks, I aim to impress," X replied, glancing her way. "And you don't have to tell me about keeping his eyes off me. I think everyone with my magic had the crap scared out of them the first time we saw him." He gave a slight shiver, then looked down at Armada, whose earlier rage had drained into visible terror. *If she's here... what happened to Arkanis?* the Demon Lord thought, dread pooling in his chest.
"What do we do with him?" X asked, motioning toward the wounded Demon Lord.
Armada didn't wait for an answer. With a roar, he channeled what remained of his demonic energy, the ground beneath him fracturing as he launched into the air. X raised his hand, fingers ready to snap—but Sarandel lifted her own, stopping him.
"Let him go," she said evenly. "This isn't a bad outcome."
X lowered his hand, tilting his head slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Domine and the others will see one of their Demon Lords retreating," she replied. "That will do more damage to their morale than his death ever could."
X gave a small shrug. "Whatever you say."
The two turned away from the ruined street and began walking off, the sounds of their boots crunching over broken stone fading into the distance. They had far more work ahead of them.