Azazel, even on his knees and with his body marked by deep wounds, let out a roar that made the ground tremble.
His eyes, once a faint red glow, now burned like fiery furnaces. He used his mace to push himself up, and as he did, his body began to change.
Muscles swelled, his skin darkened further, and a pulsating red aura emanated from him, as if the very essence of rage had been unleashed.
"You think you've defeated me?" Azazel growled, his voice deeper and reverberating, every word dripping with pure hatred. "I am the Sin of Wrath incarnate! The more you hurt me, the stronger I become!"
Dante took a step back, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, great. A walking cliché. It wasn't enough to be big and dumb, you also get stronger the angrier you get."
