The Demon King moved first.

Not charging. Not attacking. Just existing closer than he'd been a moment before. Space folding around him like reality was anxious to accommodate his movement. His clawed hand carved toward Azrael's chest with speed that shouldn't be possible from something that massive.

Azrael barely dodged, Black Flame erupting as he rolled sideways. His counterattack came instantly—blade formed from concentrated fire, aimed at the Demon King's exposed flank.

The blade ...