Her blows carried explosive force and numbing cold, each clash chipping away at his body while his own attacks barely scratched hers.
He was holding back. He had to.
There were strikes he couldn't use against his schoolmates. The bone-shattering, tendon-tearing, spine-cracking ones meant to maim or kill.
Moves aimed at crushing windpipes, shattering knees, rupturing organs.
The kind of strikes that turned enemies into corpses.
But she wasn't his enemy, so he restrained himself. And it was costing him.
She danced around him like a goddess of destruction, perfectly balanced between burning heat and chilling silence.
"You're strong," she said lightly, barely winded, "but you're dreaming if you think you can win me while holding back."
"Then maybe I won't." Damien smiled at her coldly.
He couldn't kill her. But he sure as hell was allowed to beat her senseless.
Death energy flooded into his limbs.
