Adam fought with the ingrained, thoughtless grace of an experienced battle-fiend.
He didn't decide to parry, his arm simply moved to the perfect intercepting angle. He didn't choose to feint, as his body executed a deceptive shift as naturally as breathing.
It was as if someone had perfectly downloading the master-level techniques of a forgotten martial art directly into their subconscious.
Yet it was.
The true key to his masterful combat talent, was Adam's absolute, unwavering trust in these instincts!
A being with prior combat experience would have struggled, as their old habits, past instincts, common fears, or even muscle memory would fight the new, superior knowledge; creating hesitation, a fatal split-second of internal conflict. Flinching at an incoming strike was natural, while avoiding a punch was expected.
'Go in and under their punch that looks like a blur from moving so fast? Will I make it? What if I'm hit?'
Knowing was one thing, doing was another.
Adam had no such conflict, for he was a perfect blank slate.
There were no old habits to overwrite, no prior techniques to unlearn, no fears nor hesitation.
His shallow physical and mental experience, which ironically Saphira saw as a weakness, was his greatest strength in this moment.
He was empty, and thus, he could be filled to the brim without resistance.
Every fluid dodge, every counter, every clever blend of flame and shadow was executed with 100% trust to the hellish inheritance and instincts screaming in his blood and veins.
This was why he could fight her, a trained and powerful high-tier devil, to a standstill and then slowly surpass her.
It wasn't just about power levels: it was about the source of the knowledge.
She was using a language she had painstakingly learned.
He was speaking his mother tongue.
Every passing second of the fight was closing their power gap, it was him planting his feet deeper into a higher realm.
It was a profound demonstration of the inherent superiority of a reborn's connection to the foundational, brutal soul of hell itself.
As Adam's body screamed and creaked, the strain of breaking through physically transformed his body, creating a torrential storm of energies within his body that were affecting the world outside of his body too.
Saphira's demonic mana still held a slight advantage in sheer volume, like a deeper well to draw power from.
But Adam's physicality; his speed, his height, and the explosive power in his limbs were already overshadowing hers.
His rebirth had given him a mature body, while Saphira's was still in the process of reaching her physical maximum.
Even then, with every passing second, that fragile balance was crumbling, and Adam was slowly starting to overtake her.
The gap in their mana was closing as his demonic core was further refined, and the moment he solidified his high-tier status, he wouldn't just be her equal: he would instantly surpass her.
The level of control he already exhibited over his mana made it obvious; and that control was the true nightmare.
Saphira's attacks were powerful, but straightforward: lances of crimson energy, or powerful blasts of force.
Adam's means of attack were more sophisticated.
He was a dual-wielder of opposing elements, and his affinity with both was growing visibly mid-fight.
One moment, a whip of pure shadow would snap at her ankles, trying to entangle her; the fleeting graze would siphon the warmth from her flesh. The next second, a sphere of demonic red flames would detonate in her face, the scalding heat would force her to recoil, as her vision became white.
The mental burden of defending against such varied and uniquely different assaults was giving her a pounding headache, a nauseating fatigue that ate away at her concentration.
Like this, the fight continued.
A stealthy shadow attack would slip past her guard, only to be dispelled and reveal a fist sheathed in flames, shattering her stance and inflicting pain as the mana invades her body.
Shadows and flames traced her entire body; her armor torn and burned at multiple places.
She was losing.
The realization made her blood run cold.
The only faint, bitter solace she could find was that the other presences, the devil and the demons, had formed a loose perimeter around them, watching.
Emotions of confusion, interest, bloodlust… and mocking smirks were all directed onto her bloodied body, at her wounded pride.
They had not joined the fight, as this was Adam's kill to make.
Their assistance was unnecessary.
As Saphira overextended on an exhausted strike, Adam's body seemed to blur to her side.
Both of his hands, now covered in a mixture of eerie shadows and roaring flames, were swaying at his side in a casual manner. His posture relaxed, and unpredictable, but he moved like a spring coiled back; his right fist moved in a flash.
As his fists moved, in that exact moment, the surging, chaotic energy within him coalesced, solidified, and shifted into a new, more powerful state.
A silent, powerful wave of energy radiated from his body, as a shockwave pulsed outwards, making the cracked ground beneath them tremble and split.
His right fist, cloaked in the dual forces of flames and shadows, drove forward.
Sensing his attack, and knowing that she had left herself open, Saphira desperately tried to defend herself.
"Bang!"
Adam's fist, like an unstoppable meteor, plowed straight through her desperate, cross-armed defense with the sound of splintering bone and tearing leather, and landed with devastating crash at the very center of her chest.
The impact was not just physical.
It was a spiritual demonic mana violation.
A torrent of foreign, overwhelmingly potent, and now high-tier demonic mana invaded her body through the point of contact.
It was like an army storming the gates, a chilling flood that scrambled her nerves, and insnared her demonic core.
She tried to resist, but the energy was now at a level where she couldn't deal with it easily.
Adam had reached the high-tier!
The force of the blow was so focused and precise, that it drove into her internal organs, causing her to legs to buckle as she stood before him.
The intricate leather armor across her chest vaporized under the combined forces of flame, shadow, and brute strength; tearing the armor to shreds, just like much of her other armor had during the fight.
On Saphira, a vivid fist-mark, already purpling and crackling with the faint, blood-laced traces of his elemental affinities, was branded her between her bare breasts.
Her body gave out and she collapsed, kneeling onto the jagged ground, as her now-exposed chest swayed with her fall.
A subtle reminder for his whole reason in encountering her.
Adam's cold eyes flickered and burned for a second...