Lord Enforcer watched everything through his machine-like, emotionless eyes, more details becoming evident in his mind as he recovered and the battle progressed.
Major General Arngan and the long-haired King were locked in a relentless and reckless fight that had no room for defensive moves or evasive maneuvers.
The two kept attacking each other with everything they had, forsaking any self-preservation instincts, as if driven mad by the heat of the battle.
Still, there was method to the madness, at least on Major General Arnganâs side. He hid it well, so well it felt ludicrous to attach any form of strategy to his approach, but nothing could trick Lord Enforcerâs eyes.
After clashing in the air, the General and the King had crashed on the surface past the giant canyonâs edge. The fall had been violent, featuring no attempt to slow it down, but both warriors had ignored any injury they had suffered to resume fighting immediately.
The same went for each following exchange. No matter how much Major General Arngan or the long-haired King hurt each other, they kept throwing wild attacks, completely disregarding their worsening state.
It reached the point when Major General Arnganâs new skin had once again become a tattered mess, the upper part of his figure featuring virtually no intact spots. Falling blood had also stained the rest of his body, turning him into a walking, gory spectacle rather than a mighty, evolved warrior.
The damage didnât end there. As the Generalâs weapon of choice, his clawed hands had often clashed directly with the Kingâs cutting power, losing every time.
The General didnât lose his sharp nails, but his hands and most of his forearms had ended up flayed, skinned off their most superficial layers, leaking blood non-stop.
That wasnât an injury Major General Arngan could ignore for too long, but the same could be said about his opponent, since the King also featured quite concerning damage.
The King was dented all over. His left cheek had caved in due to a previous, destructive punch, and the same went for the right side of his forehead, almost closing the hole where the horn-shaped smoke came out.
The alienâs left arm also hung limply at his side, the shoulder that connected it to the rest of his body inflated and bruised. It looked broken to the point that the King couldnât control his limb anymore, despite the slim trails of True Chaos leaking out of it.
Moreover, the King was hunched forward, seemingly unable to straighten himself up. His torso was torn, but the additional blows that had landed there had left far deeper marks that the leaking True Chaos wasnât healing.
And, the truth was that both warriors could heal themselves and return to their peak forms. The King had True Chaos to waste, and the area had enough desire for violence to transform the General once again.
However, neither warrior did that.
Even while bent and maimed, the King thrust his fuming knife at his opponentâs face, wanting nothing more than to dig through it from side to side.
Yet, Major General Arngan used his size to his advantage, half-stepping forward to tower above the King, making his knife pierce his chest.
That wasnât exactly better. Major General Arngan didnât die on the spot, but the knife did stab his chest, unleashing enough sharpness to pierce through his burly body and open a hole in his back.
Blood immediately accumulated in the Generalâs mouth, even dripping off his fangs. He became unable to breathe, but his skinned hands rose to close on the King anyway.
The attack was wide enough to create another opening for the King, which he used to unleash another blow. The knife, still stabbed in the Generalâs chest, moved horizontally, splitting his muscles apart, leaving cuts on the rib cage beneath.
A fountain of blood spurted in the Kingâs face, but his eyes remained open and his grin wide, uncaring of that liquid washing over him. Still, the Generalâs attack continued unperturbed, eventually reaching its target.
The General slammed his big hands on the Kingâs shoulders, his claws stabbing deeply into them. He planned to rip them apart entirely, but the alienâs body held strong, kept together by a mixture of innate resilience and True Chaosâ aid.
The Kingâs grin broadened at his opponentâs failed attempt to tear him apart. His right arm was still lifted, so he poured as much True Chaos as possible into his knife, wanting to finish the fight with the next slash.
And True Chaos did flow toward the knife, making it dangerous beyond reason, but the arm holding it failed to remain straight. To the Kingâs surprise, the new injury finally caught up to him, and his limb fell lifelessly on his torso.
The King felt genuinely confused. He had never considered that his condition could be so terrible. The heat of the battle had made him disregard that worry altogether.
The confusion intensified when the King saw sharp fangs closing down on his face. The General had used that moment of weakness to bite down at the alien, but that attack was far from complete. It was also slow enough for the King to dodge it.
And something told the King that he should dodge, but the ecstasy that had invaded his mind made him decide otherwise. Despite a lot of True Chaos already being in his knife, he summoned even more of it, forsaking his wings to prepare for an attack.
Nevertheless, the King basically had no working arms. He couldnât even move that well due to the claws stabbed in his shoulders. He could breathe out and turn the air into ethereal blades, but the fangs were already upon him.
The confusion almost turned into clarity at that point. After all, it had made no sense for the King to decide to attack when he had no real way of mustering a proper blow. Yet, that thought never came to fruition since the fangs ultimately closed on him.