"Little beauty, I hope you don't disappoint me... However, if you beg me, I might spare you, and even take you home..."
Isabella Lindsey stood relaxed, with a slight coldness in her demeanor, marked by a trace of disdain: "Empty promises."
"Oh! You want to fight me now? Itching for a challenge?"
The demon husband stared at Isabella Lindsey's composed and serene expression, his face instantly contorting into something fierce and terrifying: "Little beauty, you better not provoke me!"
"Impossible." Isabella Lindsey declared, unafraid.
The demon husband sneered evilly.
Her feet lightly touching the ground, she executed a set of bizarre steps that she had created herself while fleeing. She called this the Dance of Death, graceful yet filled with strangeness.
The greatest advantage was that it left afterimages in the opponent's retina, causing misjudgments, which allowed her to calmly, piece by piece, tear off the flesh from her opponent's body until death ensued.
