Heh heh!
Fine, I'll hand you the Cloth—no problem.
Let me see that pretty face.
Damian smiled, watching, feeling something was off.
"Hilarious!"
Marin's voice was low. "You want me to take off my mask? Do you have a death wish?"
A female Saint's face must never be seen by a man. If a man sees a female Saint's true face, she must either kill him or fall in love with him.
What lunacy was this brat spouting?
Damian curled his lip. "I just want to look. If you won't let me, you don't get the Cloth."
He'd originally planned to return the Pegasus Cloth outright, but seeing Marin so aggressive, he changed his mind.
Wait—Marin was known for her calm, always steady. Now she acted like she'd swallowed gunpowder, all provocation.
Yes—she was clearly here to pick a fight, her hostility obvious.
If she'd come to make trouble, handing over the Cloth would only cause more problems—better to stand firm.
My turf, my rules.
Marin's voice was ice. "Hand over the Cloth. That's the only way you walk away."
"Whether I walk away, who knows. What I do know is I want to see your face, then touch it, and then make you fall for me."
Damian quipped.
"You lunatic!"
Marin's slender frame trembled with anger.
"Lady Marin, let us handle him!"
"Foolish Damian, die!"
"Kill this madman!"
A bunch of retainers rushed in, shouting.
Thud-thud-thud…
Damian flung off his cloak and greeted the grunts with fists the size of bowls.
With screams, Marin's retainers went flying and landed in a heap, eyes rolling back, blood frothing at their mouths.
"Just you lot?"
Damian spread his hands.
Retainers are retainers—they'll never reach a Saint's height. One slap each was enough.
Swoosh!
As for Marin—she vanished.
Whoosh!
A chill gust hit.
An instant later, a clawed hand shot from behind Damian, stabbing for his eyes. Razor nails flashed to within an inch—nowhere to dodge.
As if he'd sensed it, Damian turned his head in that instant and slipped past Marin's strike.
"Marin, your move is vicious. You really going for my life?"
He couldn't help grousing.
In his impression, Marin was the big-sister confidante—gentle, considerate, rational.
In truth, her temper wasn't far off Shaina's. No wonder they didn't get along.
"Die!"
In the next moment, two powerful legs wrapped around Damian's neck, trying to strangle him.
The force was immense—like two giant iron clamps. Even rebar would bend under those powerful feminine legs.
Faced with that strength, Damian's face flushed—yet he laughed, bright and happy, flashing white teeth.
He suddenly reached up, grabbed those long legs around his neck with both hands, and pried them apart with a little force.
"Great legs!"
"Shame they're not kicking a pedicab."
He ran a hand along those fine legs, tracing higher…
Marin felt wrongness crawl up her spine; goosebumps prickled; she tore free on the spot.
Steady in midair, she stomped down and sprang, legs snapping into a flying kick, attacking Damian again.
"Eagle Claw Flash!"
In a blink, Marin's kick was upon him—its speed cracked the air.
Thunk!
A surge of power slammed into Damian's head, driving him back several steps, a little dizzy and numb.
But unharmed.
He was about to punch when Marin flickered away.
"You're playing for keeps?"
He rubbed his head—she'd even yanked out a few hairs.
If his skull weren't iron—and if he hadn't dumped the force with telekinesis in an instant—Speedy Legs would've popped his head.
Infuriating. Time to take this seriously.
Don't be fooled by the fact she's a woman—Marin's strength rivaled Shaina's. Both were among the stronger Silver Saints—tougher than most men.
Trading blows with such a perfect blend of speed and power was… exciting.
Marin's rushes were like a sonic hedgehog's—like an eagle in high-speed ambush, hard to track.
For Damian, everything was in hand.
One Lightspeed Punch would be enough to crush her—but that would blow his cover.
So take it slow.
"So tough!"
Marin's heart pounded. Her finisher, even without a Cloth, could shatter rock—yet he showed no sign of injury.
Seiya hadn't lost unjustly—this Damian was strong. His body was tempered far beyond most Bronze Saints.
Without a Cloth, she'd have to go all out to take him.
By the Pope's order, she could teach Damian a lesson—life or death. She hadn't expected him to be this difficult.
Marin vanished again.
Seeing her playing at ambush, Damian's eyes flicked and he chose guile—taunting her. "Come on, hit me hard. Believe it or not, I'll make you my bride tonight."
Hup!
Marin popped behind him once more and kicked—harder—slamming into his back.
Damian almost stumbled headlong.
Marin moved to press the advantage, legs whipping into a chain of strikes.
But the instant her leg reached his chest, Damian slipped aside, barely dodged her string of blows, and snatched her small hand.
Marin tried to wrest free—but powerful arms locked her in tight. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't break loose. He had her crushed in raw strength.
"Hahaha—let's see where you run now. Time for my hug-the-girl kill!"
Damian laughed—wicked, cold, wild.
Marin—finally got you.
Taste the power of the muscle tank.
Boom!
Damian's muscles surged, veins bulged, the two big pecs hammering as his arms cinched tight.
Aaaaahhh…
Marin screamed, flailing. It hurt—badly—like she'd been shoved into a hydraulic press made of muscle, the two huge pecs crushing her till she wished for death.
"Scream! The louder you scream, the happier I am!"
"That's for taunting me…"
Smack!
Controlling her with one arm, Damian freed a hand and slapped her—an eye-for-an-eye.
But with just a bit of force, the mask split in two and fell.
A delicate face appeared before Damian.
Doll-like big eyes, a pert little nose, willow brows flared at the ends, lips like twin petals.
Baby face!
The word flashed through Damian's mind.
Yes—Marin had the dominating figure of a sexy big sister—yet she had a baby face.
The legendary baby-faced bu—cough!
"Sister Marin, you're truly beautiful!"
"So it's a baby-faced little beauty…"
Damian offered heartfelt praise. That face paired with that aura—pure and sultry at once.
Wait—I actually knocked off the mask!
This prank had gotten real.
A problem…
"Damian, I'll kill you!"
Marin was furious, her pretty face awash with killing intent. She regretted not wearing her Cloth—she'd kicked an iron wall.
This muscle-only Damian had her flattened for strength. Once he'd got hold of her, she had no chance to flip the fight.
And now he'd seen her true face.
Her rage burned.
"If I'd known… I would've come in a Cloth…"
Aphrodite and Shaina had sensed trouble and hurried over with Pansy.
They had just reached the graveyard gate when a woman's shrill scream split the night.
When Pansy's eyes widened and she finally took in the scene, she saw a musclebound hulk violently "bear-hugging" a woman who was screaming in agony.
In the end, the screaming woman went limp. The brutal tableau left Pansy dumbstruck.
On closer look, the woman was Marin, the Aquila Silver Saint.
Pansy looked at the hulking man covered in knotty muscle—and a senseless fear crawled up from her heart.
It felt familiar.
S-So scary!
Clang!
Marin hit the ground at Pansy's feet like a rag sack, scattering stones.
Watching the man with the two giant pecs step toward her—
Pansy's breath seized. Her heart quaked. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed with a thud.
"Damian… you actually went that hard on a woman."
"And scared the child!"
"You muscle-headed brute…"
"Crap—Marin's mask is broken."
In a daze, Pansy heard Aphrodite's voice, and then Shaina's startled scolding tinged with joy—followed by darkness.