In the ruined mansion hallway, the sounds of battle echoed, and sparks flew as Kazon's dagger clashed against the serrated claws of The Fiend. "You're really strong," Kazon said, his voice calm but focused. The Fiend pushed him away by leaping into the air and cross-slashing downward with both claws. Kazon barely managed to block the attack with the dagger in his right hand.
Before Kazon could regain his footing, The Fiend launched another assault, this time with an upward right claw. Kazon blocked it again, but the force batted his dagger upward, leaving his armored stomach exposed. With a horizontal slash, The Fiend tore into Kazon's armor and flesh, sending chunks flying. "And relentless," Kazon remarked, not flinching as he brought his dagger down towards The Fiend's head at lightning speed.
Just as the dagger was about to connect, The Fiend evaded by turning his head, then spun around with the momentum, bringing his left claws down in a whirlwind motion to gash Kazon's left thigh. The claws ripped out more chunks of armor and flesh. "Deadly as well, it seems," Kazon said, blood seeping from his wounds.
The Fiend aimed another slash at Kazon's throat, missing by mere inches as Kazon jumped backward, creating distance to catch his breath.
He observed his opponent with an appraising eye. *A fighting style that's only meant for killing and nothing else,* Kazon thought as The Fiend sprinted towards him, his serrated, bloodied claws gleaming. The Fiend slashed at Kazon's chest with his right claw, forcing Kazon to lean back to evade. Despite his quick reaction, the claws nicked his chest plate, ripping out more chunks of the already damaged armor.
Kazon thrust his dagger towards The Fiend's unarmored throat, but The Fiend swiftly twisted his body to the side, the dagger slicing through empty air. In one fluid motion, The Fiend used his left claws to slash and stab into Kazon's right side, just below his ribs. *And an instinctive awareness of danger and optimal counterattacks,* Kazon thought, assessing the situation calmly as the claws dug into his hardened flesh.
Kazon retaliated by slashing and stabbing at The Fiend's head repeatedly, but each of his attacks was smoothly dodged. The Fiend moved with an eerie fluidity, his body weaving and twisting to evade every strike.
Seizing an opening, The Fiend stomped down on Kazon's right foot with his left, pinning him in place. He then dug his right claws into Kazon's right thigh, tearing into the flesh. *And of course...* Kazon's mind raced with cold calculation. *There's that Killing Intent which almost matches the Hatred of that boy.*
A sudden explosion outside brightened the ruined hallway for just a moment, casting flickering shadows on the walls. *Wonder what's happening outside,* Kazon thought, his mind unfazed by the chaos around him.
With calculated precision, Kazon slashed upwards diagonally towards The Fiend's head. The Fiend, ever agile, tilted his head with a fluid motion, evading the attack effortlessly. In response, he drove his claws deeper into Kazon's side and thigh, seeking to inflict further damage. Despite the deep wounds, Kazon showed no signs of pain. He brought his dagger down in a swift, precise arc aimed at The Fiend's head. The Fiend slipped away, evading the strike with grace. In retaliation, he tore out a sizable chunk of Kazon's right thigh, the serrated claws slicing through flesh and sinew.
By some miracle or sheer force of will, Kazon remained standing. His thighs, though heavily damaged, still supported his weight as he stepped forward, slashing towards The Fiend's chest.
The Fiend leaned back to avoid the attack, but in doing so, he relinquished his hold on Kazon's side. Despite this, The Fiend still managed to wound Kazon greatly, or at least he should have.
Yet again, Kazon showed no signs of pain as he continued forwards, slashing and stabbing with his dagger towards The Fiend unrelentingly.
Just as one of his stabs sailed past The Fiend's head, The Fiend seized Kazon's arm right above the elbow with his left hand. With swift precision, he plunged the serrated claws of his right hand into Kazon's stomach, piercing through the damaged armor and gripping his hardened flesh. Blood spewed from the visor of Kazon's helmet as he spat up blood, yet he made no sounds of pain. With a voice devoid of any hint of agony, he spoke, "Do you happen to know a young man with blue hair and blue eyes?"
The Killing Intent emanating from The Fiend ceased as he froze, his grip on Kazon's stomach loosening. "He had a similar aura about him, though his was a bit more... hateful," Kazon continued, sensing The Fiend's reaction.
*Not the reaction I was expecting, no, this is even better.* With an opportunity presenting itself, Kazon, utilizing his left hand which had remained unused until now, retrieved a dagger from behind his back. In a swift motion, he aimed the blade towards The Fiend's neck. The Fiend, momentarily distracted by Kazon's words, realized the danger too late. He could now only try to minimize the damage.
Just as the dagger descended towards The Fiend's neck, the sound of metal rending, bone severing, and flesh being cut filled the air. Marcus, wielding the Magi-Slayer, appeared in a flash, executing a single upward vertical slice. With unparalleled precision, he severed Kazon's entire left arm, putting an abrupt end to Kazon's attack.
Kazon's eyes widened within his helmet as he shifted his gaze towards Marcus, who breathed heavily, wisps of exhaustion escaping his lips, yet his eyes burned with unwavering determination. "Looks like I was wrong about the human spirit," Kazon remarked, his tone filled with both amusement and respect.
In the midst of Kazon's words, The Fiend withdrew his hand from Kazon's stomach before swiftly plunging it through his chest, impaling his heart with a clawed gauntlet. Kazon's voice softened as he acknowledged The Fiend's decisive blow. "Good job," he murmured, moments before The Fiend withdrew his hand, clutching Kazon's still-beating purple heart. Without hesitation, The Fiend crushed it, and Kazon's lifeless form collapsed backwards, the clatter of armor marking his fall.
Marcus, too, sank to his knees, his body wracked with exhaustion, yet his spirit remained unbroken. Meanwhile, The Fiend stared at his bloodied hand, a peculiar sensation gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. With a subtle shake of his head, he dismissed the feeling for now. Retrieving his notebook and pen, he turned to Marcus, recognizing that now was not the time for introspection. Carefully, he wrote, "Have you seen a 16-year-old boy with blue hair and eyes?"