The world slowed in Adam's eyes.
Every moment stilled and fractured into a series of crystalized images.
Adam's body, driven by instinct more reactive than any conscious thought, tried to move. In a fraction of a second, muscles coiled and tensed, demonic energy flared in a desperate, reflexive shield around his vital organs, and every hair on his body shot up like warning flares.
But Saphira was a viper who had already sunk her fangs. She was too close, her attack faster, stronger, and direct with its purpose: kill!
It wasn't a conscious thought, but an action driven by experience and talent.
One doesn't think of eating, as the action is done subconsciously. She didn't have a single thought at that moment, her body moved with an instinctive action that had long become natural to her.
Her right hand, which had moments before been passively hanging at her side, became a weapon.
Her fingers came together to form a hand blade, her entire limb seemingly transforming into a living lance. Her entire arm was wrapped in a crimson energy, coated in flames of pure destructive power that hissed with a sound the air tearing.
The air tore as easily as paper in wake of her strike.
There was no wasted motion, no grand theatricality, no fancy, showy moves.
It was efficient, aimed with surgical accuracy at the center of Adam's chest; for the demonic core that pulsed with his newfound power.
Time seemed to thicken, as the tip of her hand-knife connected. Every nano-second felt in excruciating pain and dread.
Adam's reflexive shield, a hazy film of black energy hastily gathered, shattered like glass under a diamond tip.
The terrifying, intimate sensation of his own flesh and muscle parting from her assault, from her hand cutting through, was a searing fire spreading through him.
He felt the heat of her flames, and the invasive, corrosive energy that seemed to obliterate him from the inside out.
For a moment, it felt like she would punch straight through, that her fingers would close around the very essence of his being and snuff it out.
Suddenly.
A different kind of power erupted from within him, not as a shield, but instead a vise.
Saphira's focus shattered into stunned disbelief.
Her forward momentum ceased abruptly. An immense, crushing pressure locked around her attack, her hand buried knuckle-deep in his chest.
Bone and muscle from Adam's 2.5-meter tall frame was a wall of densely packed, supernaturally resilient tissue that had helped absorbed and stall the killing blow.
Demonic mana, infused with traces of flame and shadow, and powered by a near high-tier strength, had nearly extremely durable physical form.
Yet, that wasn't enough to stop her, not alone at least.
Saphira had ignored those as wrapped around her limb was something far more potent: Adam's will manifested!
A constricting band of pure, obsidian-dark demonic mana, controlled with a precision that defied his middle-tier status, had solidified instantly around her arm, fusing her to him in a grotesque, yet intimate display.
Muscle, mana, and mental power all coalesced into a trinity of exponential strength added into his defense.
Mental energy, or manifesting one's will, was something usually only seen in Awakened devils, or at least peak-tier lesser devils with years of experience.
Adam's strength was surpassing the norm, surpassing what Saphira had learned in her life of constant training and education.
Her eyes, finally gained some sense of emotion as they shot wide with shock, snapped up from the wound she had created and onto his face.
Rage.
Adam's eyes were blazing with a primal fury.
The arrogance and lust were gone, burned away by the searing pain and the shot of demonic adrenaline from his near-death experience.
What remained was cold fury.
A small, angry smirk twisted his lips, as he sought to enact his retribution for the attempt at his life. His gaze turned a deeper shade of red.
Instinct screamed at Saphira to retreat, just in the same way Adam's instincts warned him moments ago.
Saphira tried to yank her hand free, to create distance, but it was like trying to pull her limb from a steel clamp.
Adam's other hand, the one that had been groping her ass, didn't release. Instead, the fingers dug in with brutal force, claws pricking her crimson skin, holding her pelvis locked against his, preventing any leverage for escape.
The optimal position she had put herself in to launch a sneak attack, to assassinate Adam, had now backfired.
She was trapped, her blade-hand sunk into her target, but her target had just become the hunter.
Before she could process this unexpected reversal, Adam's free hand, already in a fist, was in the air. A straight punch driven by pure rage and power, coming straight down toward the center of her face.
Retreat wasn't an option… attack or defend?
The thought was vague as Saphira, a trained warrior, reacted on pure reflex.
She crossed her remaining arm in front of her face in a desperate, last-ditch guard, bracing for the impact she knew would be devastating.
"BOOOOM!"
The impact was deafening, and it was worse than she had imagined it would be.
Adam's fist, empowered by a surge of raw, furious power, the trinity of energy being driven by the emotion of rage, struck her arm with a resounding crash. The bones in her forearms shrieked in protest, as a sickening crunch echoed; the defense hadn't held for a second before the force of the blow smashed through her arm completely.
Her own crossed arm was driven back into her face by the unstoppable momentum. The world exploded into a bright, searing flash of black and red energies as his knuckles connected with her nose and mouth with a brutal snap.
"Squelch~"
The force lifted her off her feet, the hand trapped in his chest tearing free with a gruesome, wet rip as she was flung backward.
"Arghhh~"
She crashed onto the unforgiving, jagged ground, her body skidding through the ash and rock. The air was driven from her lungs as she released laborious, pained gasp and her vision was blurred.
The taste of her own blood filling her mouth, then slowly dripping onto the scorched ground with a sizzle.
Lying on the ground, dazed and in pain, the cold thought of victory in Saphira's mind was utterly scrambled. In its place, a ringing, painful, shock.
She had expected a swift kill, a clean victory.
She had not, in her wildest calculations, anticipated such a vicious, immediate, and overwhelmingly powerful counter-attack.
His strength wasn't much lower than hers; if anything, it was marginally lower than hers.
The newborn wasn't just resilient; he was a monster.
She was the one who had just awakened this monster!