The new summon threw itself in the way, but Gabriel's punch pulverized through it without slowing.
Flesh burst apart. Bone shattered. The body disintegrated under the force.
His fist kept going and only stopped mere inches from the summoner's face.
The wind from that strike alone hit the man hard enough to make his clothes snap.
Gabriel's arm trembled once in front of him, and a line of blood ran down from the ruined muscles in his shoulder. Even so, the pressure from that fist was enough to make the blindfolded man understand how close death had come.
The summoner's chin lifted slightly. He did not look down. Looking away from Gabriel now would have been suicidal. Even injured, the man in front of him still carried the kind of pressure that made retreat feel too slow.
For several seconds, neither moved.
The night air passed between them and carried the smell of poison, blood, and torn flesh.
