Seiya's grip tightened around the demon's throat, his fingers pressing deep into its flesh. Veins bulged around the demon's neck, straining as if they might burst at any moment.
With one hand gripping the demon's throat, Seiya unleashed a relentless barrage of punches against his face. His skin was unnaturally tough, hardened like scales, and despite the brutal assault, the demon reveled in the pain, a twisted pleasure gleaming in his eyes.
Realizing that his repeated blows did little more than leave bruises, and not deal proper damage, Seiya paused, adjusting his stance. Every muscle coiled with tension as he drew his arm back, preparing to deliver a devastating blow. But just as his fist shot forward, the demon, who had been indulging in the assault, suddenly snapped his head up. His hand shot out, catching Seiya's fist mid-air.
He had sensed it—if that punch had landed, it would have obliterated him instantly. Therefore, he had no choice but to cut in.