The ground between them had stopped being ground.
It was rubble now. Fractured, upended, carved apart by the accumulated force of every exchange that had passed through it since the fight began. The corrupted earth the demons had built their stronghold on had not been built to withstand this—had not been built to withstand anything, really, beyond the ordinary weight of occupation. What it was enduring now was something else entirely.
It endured it anyway.
So did Damien.
He came in again—his third consecutive approach without pause, without retreat, the pressure maintained deliberately because every second he gave the Captain to stand still was a second the escalation continued uninterrupted. He had established this logic early and had not abandoned it. The Captain's aura was already heavier than it had been at the chapter's start.
He could not afford to let it get heavier still.
His strikes came in combination this time.
