Goethe roared, and the demonic blood surged, doubling in intensity through his veins.
He gathered all his demonic energy — red, tainted, and death laced — into his fists.
— "He humiliated me… I'll grind him into dust."
He lunged forward, full of fury.
With a long step — leading leg pulled back — he aimed straight for Rain's solar plexus.
But Rain was waiting for him, like a silent statue.
He pivoted, dodged on his rear foot. The breath of the strike passed between them like a whisper.
Goethe landed in a dead leaf stance, ready to follow up.
He launched into a savage series of hooks — left, right, left, right — fast, brutal, unrelenting.
He fought like a wounded soldier, every strike meant to crush Rain's will.
Rain took the hits. His arm cracked with each impact, but his stance held. He could feel the fight intensifying.
Then he countered — a sharp inward strike.
His arm swept downward as his hips rotated, the blow like a cleaver backed by legs of steel.
