The upgraded ghouls lunged – twisted metal fusing with regenerated muscle, white-spiral eyes burning with cold intelligence. Faster. Stronger. Smarter.
Lucifer met the first with an open palm. Not a block. An embrace.
CRACK.
The ghoul's reinforced skull imploded like rotten fruit under a hydraulic press. Bone shards and grey matter sprayed the one behind it. Before the second could react, Lucifer's other hand shot out, fingers piercing its chestplate like wet paper. He yanked.
RRIIIPPP.
A spine, still dripping with wires and hydraulic fluid, came free. He swung it like a whip. The third ghoul, leaping from the ceiling, was bisected mid-air. Entrails rained down.
Malakov's smirk vanished. "Impossible…"
Lucifer didn't stop. He flowed. A pirouette turned into a shin kick that shattered a ghoul's knee backwards. As it fell, he stomped on its head – SPLUTCH – reducing it to paste. Two more came from the flanks, coordinated. Claws aimed for his neck, fangs for his thigh.
