Sword and claws crossed as the two repeatedly clashed amid the ruins lit by purple hellfire.
Renato's magical blade hummed low as it sliced through the air, while Sinnaphyx's ten claws tore toward him with shrill whistles.
Both unleashed everything they had, trying to overwhelm the other as quickly as possible.
Their heavy blows sent the swordsman and the yochlol flying at the same time. Renato slid backward on both feet, his soles carving a long scrape through the rubble, before finally steadying himself two steps from the edge of the ruins.
But the pain did not hinder Renato's movements. The swordsman rested his longsword against his shoulder again, assuming the Upper Sword Stance.
Sinnaphyx had only just climbed out of the rubble, far less composed than before. Her porcelain-smooth skin was now covered in cracks from head to ankle. The places where her eyes had been were blurred and distorted, with several tiny sacs budding out and trembling constantly.
The yochlol's entire body was riddled with sword wounds. The deepest ran diagonally from her collarbone to her waist, its edges constantly oozing yellowish-brown pus that dripped onto the stone with faint hisses.
The demon was in a wretched state. She had never expected to find herself at a disadvantage in such a savage melee.
Although Sinnaphyx, a divine spellcaster, was not proficient in close combat, her physical abilities far exceeded her opponent's. She should have been able to crush an ordinary mortal warrior.
Even if his technique surpassed hers, the yochlol had been confident she could wear Renato down by trading wounds.
Yet the actual battle had diverged completely from her expectations. Shadow energy followed Renato like a living thing, pouring endlessly through the gaps in his armor and forming layer upon layer of barriers before him to withstand