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Jet let out a satisfied smirk as he pulled back his boot from the man’s groin. He looked up to marvel at his pathetic expressions but all he saw was Cearr staring at him with an almost pitying look without flinching.
“That’s it?”
He just managed to dodge the descending axe blade by rolling to the side and he saw it split the ground down the middle, with green hellfire erupting from the resulting gash in the world. Jet got up from the ground and disappeared with as fast of a movement as he could manage, kicking Cearr in the neck. The only reaction he got was green sparks flying off of his sturdy body. Hitting the man felt like hammering a slab of solid steel.
“Why won’t he die?!”
“He’s emulating the King. This is bad.”
Markolab responded as Jet tried running away from the hulking monster instead.
“What does that mean?!”
“It means he’s not going to go down. He’s not feeling any of this. You’re wounding him, he just doesn’t give a shit. Nothing short of lethal wounds that’d kill a man will even slow him down.”
“So I have to keep punching him without letting him touch me? Fine… I can do that.”
“Except you saw how he has much more essence to spend than you. He’ll still be going strong when you’ve shat out your lungs. Unfortunate problem is that he’s simply more experienced and powerful than you. FORTUNATELY, you have something he doesn’t.”
“And what’s that?”
“You saw how you could sneak around and hit him in the back? His coadjutor is not helping him, or it’s defective. He doesn’t have omnidirectional awareness like you. Focus on attacking and leave defense to me!”
“Fine… I’m trusting you with this. Don’t make me regret this, Markolab!”
“ROGER!”
Jet’s dark eyes started glowing with green power as he started moving like a possessed man. His attacks became much more vicious, as he solely focused on tearing Cearr’s throat out with his silver limbs. And yet his defense was not the slightest bit compromised. It was as if he was perfectly aware of his opponents movements at all times. His movements were like a silver river flowing around the Slayer and his attacks, deftly evading him while assaulting him with a series of never ending blows, scratches and kicks. Still it was not enough and the Slayer laughed as he swung his axe in an arc around him, sending forth a wave that swept Jet off his feet and sent him away.
Though scratched, battered and bruised Cearr did not seem the slightest bit affected by the not-so-gentle ministration of the Fiend. He cracked his neck twice as he let out a grin.
“Hey… not bad your majesty. Who knew a little shit born with a silver spoon in his mouth could fight like that! Unfortunately you will never, ever beat me like that.”
“What?”
“Let me show you…”
