Minutes Before
The battle between Wolf and Armada tore through the southern quarter like a storm of steel and fury. Each time their blades met, the shockwaves split cobblestone and shattered windows. They moved as streaks of motion—two blurs cutting through hordes of demons, whose bodies were sliced apart so cleanly they burst into red mist before hitting the ground. The rhythm of their fight was relentless—clash, shift, strike, evade—each motion chained seamlessly into the next with lethal precision.
After another earth-shaking collision, both men launched themselves skyward, their blades meeting midair in a burst of sparks. "I never thought a single man would ever give me this much trouble!" Armada snarled, twisting his body as his dao flashed in a flurry—one diagonal slash toward Wolf's shoulder, a sharp cut across his ribs, then a sudden thrust aimed for his heart.
Wolf's response was instinct and reflex—each motion fluid, almost effortless. He caught the first strike with the edge of his longsword, turned the second aside with a flick of his wrist, and deflected the thrust with a sharp pivot that sent the dao skidding harmlessly past his chest. The instant Armada overextended, Wolf stepped in and drove the wolf-headed pommel of his sword hard into Armada's gut with a crunch of metal against metal, as he dented the plate armor the Demon Lord wore underneath.
"Wish I could say the same about you!" Wolf spat, his voice rough with exertion as Armada was hurled backward, skidding across the cracked street. Dust exploded beneath his boots as he forced himself to a stop, but Wolf was already descending. The moment his boots touched ground, he blurred forward again, sword drawn low for another attack.
Armada reacted fast—his dao shifting to his off-hand as his other reached for the strange pistol holstered at his hip. He snapped it up and fired in a single motion. The round blazed through the air, bright enough to leave a trail.
Wolf should have dodged. He knew that. But instead of shifting aside, he brought his sword up and caught the shot flat against the blade. The impact exploded like a cannon blast, throwing him backward through the air. He stabbed his sword down to slow himself, the blade tearing a jagged furrow across the cobblestone until he halted just short of a building.
Through the cracked window ahead, Wolf saw terrified faces—civilians watching from inside. Armada followed his gaze, realization dawning before his grin spread wide. He began to laugh, low and cruel. "Oh, I get it. I was wondering why you didn't dodge that." He spun the pistol in his hand lazily. "It's because you didn't want the people in the houses to get hit. How noble… and exploitable."
He aimed the barrel toward another nearby home.
Wolf's jaw tightened. He clicked his tongue in irritation and blurred forward in a flash of speed. Armada barely had time to pull the trigger before Wolf's sword came down in a brutal arc.
"Take every advantage you can get, runt!" Wolf roared, his voice echoing through the street. "Because even with all of them, you're fucking dying!"
Their blades met again in a violent clash, steel screaming against steel as the force of it shook the air around them.
"You keep saying things like that, but you haven't managed to land a good blow on me—not yet," Armada said through gritted teeth, both hands trembling as they held his dao locked against Wolf's sword. Wolf's arm shook under the strain too, but his glare never wavered. In the next instant, he shifted his stance, released one hand from his sword, and grabbed a fistful of Armada's hair. With a sharp yank, he pulled the Demon Lord off balance and drove his knee forward—then twisted his weight to slam his shin into Armada's leg. The kick connected with a dull, heavy crack, shattering the samurai armor plating around his knee. Armada's leg buckled under him with a sharp snarl of pain.
"Shut your trap already!" Wolf barked as he swung his opponent backward by the hair, releasing him mid-motion. Armada hit the ground hard, and before he could recover, Wolf's sword came down in a wide arc, cutting through his explorer's leathers and biting into the plate beneath. Sparks scattered like fireflies as steel scraped against steel. Armada grunted, spinning on his heel to retaliate with a fierce horizontal slash aimed straight for Wolf's neck.
Wolf leaned back just far enough for the blade to whistle past his throat, the edge close enough to slice a few strands of his hair. His boots slid across the stone from the momentum, but he caught himself, readying his sword for a counterattack—only for Armada to suddenly smirk and mutter, "Alright, let's play this differently."
Before Wolf could press forward, Armada turned and bolted toward a nearby guard tower. Even with one leg damaged, he moved fast, his limp barely slowing him. Wolf's eyes narrowed as he gave chase, the ground cracking under each stride. He could already see the angle of the strike Armada was preparing—the Demon Lord shifted his dao into a reverse grip and planted his foot.
With a roar, Armada unleashed a single sweeping cut. The blade screamed through the air and bit into the tower's foundation. The structure groaned, its supports giving way as the tower began to topple toward the nearby homes.
"Try and stop that!" Armada shouted with cruel laughter echoing through the streets.
Wolf's expression hardened. He crouched low, sword gripped in both hands, then launched himself forward like a shot from a cannon. As he met the falling tower, his blade moved faster than sight—each swing slicing through air and stone alike. Invisible arcs tore through the structure, shredding timber and masonry into fragments, those fragments into shards, those shards into dust. His movements were precise and blindingly quick, each cut seamlessly flowing into the next, the pressure alone enough to split the debris apart.
In seconds, the collapsing tower disintegrated midair into a drifting cloud of dust and splinters that scattered harmlessly across the wind.
Wolf dropped to one knee upon landing, his breath ragged. "Fuck," he muttered, planting his sword in the ground for balance, "haven't pushed myself that far in a while."
Before the words even left his mouth, a flare of danger pricked at his instincts. He spun just in time to see Armada already mid-swing, grin twisted and vicious. Wolf twisted his body as the blade came for him—fast enough to avoid being cleaved in half, but not fast enough to escape unscathed. The dao tore across his side, leaving a deep gash that burned with pain.
"Got you!" Armada snarled triumphantly, eyes gleaming.