Darian and Luke cut through the demon ranks with the practiced ease of men who had lived far too long on the edge.
Each movement carried the weight of SS-rank mastery. Even if they couldn't advance further, the power they had forged was more than enough for the S-rank demons closing in around them.
Darian moved first. His axe carved sweeping arcs, far too nimble for a weapon its size.
Every shift of his stance sent cracks running through the ground, every strike a blur of weight and precision. Beside him, Luke fought in a harsher rhythm. His rapier no longer looked elegant, it tore through demon flesh like a butcher's blade, each thrust backed by an aggression that forced the monsters to recoil.
They worked in silent understanding, cutting down demon after demon until the last one fell with a guttering hiss.
There was no celebration or pause.
