Altair reflexively leapt back, barely dodging the gaping maw of the tiger. Some of the nearby demons weren't fast enough—they were devoured whole by the abyssal jaws.
As the mouth snapped shut, its eyes locked onto Altair with burning fury, as if he were the next prey.
"What the hell is that jaw?!" he thought warily. "I need to be far more careful with it."
The katanas clashed—and silence fell.
The world held its breath. The open space of the intersection froze over. Snow fell slowly, heavily, as if the air itself had thickened. The yellow traffic light cast a grim glow over the faces of the fighters.
Altair stood, squinting, katanas trembling in his hands, soaked with his own blood. Around him—demons in black cloaks formed a semi-circle, ready to pounce.
The tiger's maw faded like smoke. Yuma stepped out from behind Aruya, nonchalant.
"You're still not giving up? What a shame. I thought you were smarter."
