The wound was horrifying, a jagged gash that would have killed most beings instantly. But Hazon's body was the body of a Devil Lord that focused on flesh and power, a fortress of living flame. His hand blazed, fire so immense that the very air ignited. He refused to yield, instead driving his burning fist straight into the monstrous furnace-maw that gaped in the Demon Lord's chest.
A scream tore from the Demon Lord, raw and guttural. Yet the might of the Demon Race was not so easily broken. He clenched his fanged jaws, fury burning in his molten eyes, and slammed his horned skull into Hazon's face. Bone cracked, sparks flew, and both titans staggered before roaring again and colliding once more.
It was a melee of primal brutality—no technique, no strategy, just wrath against wrath, strength against strength.
And it was not the only battle.
