I need to change tactics.

She raised both hands, corruption magic gathering—not for close combat, but for ranged assault.

Corruption Spear Barrage

Twenty spears of solidified corruption manifested around her, each one six feet long, each one capable of piercing castle walls.

She launched them all at Valentine simultaneously from multiple angles.

Valentine’s response was calm and methodical.

His hands moved in blur of motion, holy magic blazing from his palms.

He caught the first spear mid-flight and shattered it with grip strength alone.

Caught the second and threw it back at Seraphina.

Deflected the third with palm strike.

Dodged the fourth.

Shattered the fifth.

Blocked the sixth with forearm guard. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

All twenty spears countered in three seconds through pure martial arts technique and holy magic enhancement.

"Ranged attacks are easier to counter than close combat," Valentine explained, advancing toward her again. "Projectiles have predictable trajectories. I’ve fought demon lords who could launch hundreds of corruption spears simultaneously. Twenty is... manageable."

Seraphina created distance with her wings, flying backward while launching more attacks—

Corruption bolts.

Corruption blasts.

Corruption waves.

Every long-range magic she knew, trying to overwhelm Valentine’s defenses through volume.

He walked through it all.

Holy aura blazing, destroying corruption magic before it reached him, his body coated in purifying light that made him immune to demonic assault.

"You’re wasting energy," Valentine observed. "Every spell you cast burns your corruption reserves. Every attack I counter costs you power while costing me nothing. This is tactical mistake."

He was right.

Seraphina could feel her magic depleting faster than regeneration could restore it. She’d already fought the Heroes for forty-three minutes. Then manifested true demon form—which burned enormous power. Then fought Valentine for seven minutes of sustained combat.

Her reserves were maybe... sixty percent? Fifty percent?

Still dangerous. Still capable of devastating attacks.

But no longer unlimited.

Valentine reached her position, his martial arts stance perfect, his holy magic blazing.

"Shall we continue close combat?" he asked politely. "Or would you prefer more ranged exchanges?"

Seraphina snarled and attacked with everything—blade-arms, tail, claws, wings, corruption magic, physical strikes—

Valentine met her assault with martial arts mastery that three hundred seventy-two years of demon lord experience simply couldn’t match.

—--------------------------

TEN MINUTES INTO BATTLE

They’d been fighting for ten minutes of sustained close-quarters combat.

Seraphina had landed seventy-three strikes on Valentine—blade-cuts, tail-stabs, claw-rakes, wing-slams—every attack in her arsenal.

Valentine had landed one hundred forty-six strikes on Seraphina—twice as many, each one precisely placed, each one burning with holy magic.

They separated again, both fighters breathing harder now.

Seraphina’s thirteen-foot demon form showed damage—scales cracked in twelve places, wings torn in eight locations, her corruption miasma flickering weakly, blood (demonic purple-black) dripping from seventeen wounds.

Valentine’s white robes showed tears and scorch marks—the first damage his clothing had taken, evidence that Seraphina’s attacks were connecting and causing effect.

But he was smiling.

"You’re amazing, Seraphina," he said, genuine admiration in his voice. "Truly amazing. To fight this long against Archbishop-level holy martial arts while your mana reserves are low and you’re fighting through accumulated fatigue from your earlier battle."

He brushed purple-black blood from a cut on his cheek—one of Seraphina’s claw-rakes had actually wounded him.

"Most demon lords can’t land single hit on me before I kill them. You’ve wounded me four times. And you’re still standing, still fighting, still showing tactical creativity."

His holy aura pulsed, healing the cheek-wound instantly.

"If you were at full power—fresh, uninjured, with complete mana reserves—this fight would be much more difficult for me. Possibly even dangerous."

Seraphina felt grim satisfaction despite her exhaustion.

But his next words destroyed that satisfaction.

"But you’re not at full power. You’re exhausted. Your mana is depleted. And every second we fight, you get weaker while I remain constant."

He took his fighting stance again.

"So this is just a matter of time. I don’t need to rush. I just need to keep fighting until your reserves run out and you can no longer sustain your true demon form."

He’s right, Seraphina thought desperately. He’s absolutely right. If I don’t end this fast, I’ll die the moment my mana runs out and my true form dispels.

I need to finish this NOW.

She made decision.

Stop conserving power. Stop holding back. Burn everything she had left in overwhelming assault that would either kill Valentine or leave her defenseless.

All or nothing.

—-------------

Seraphina’s corruption energy exploded outward with intensity she hadn’t shown yet.

Her four demon wings blazed with purple-black fire. Her scales glowed with demonic power. Her blade-arms extended to five feet instead of three, corruption magic making the weapons larger and deadlier.

"VALENTINE!" she roared, her voice carrying demon lord authority. "IF I’M DYING TODAY, I’M TAKING YOU WITH ME!"

She attacked with speed that exceeded anything she’d demonstrated before.

Her blade-arms moved in blur—forty strikes per second, each one aimed at vital points, each one burning with corruption magic concentrated to maximum lethality.

Her tail struck from impossible angles, bending in ways that defied physics, the bladed tip seeking Valentine’s heart, throat, eyes, groin—any weakness.

Her clawed hands raked at his face, his chest, his legs—twelve-strike combinations delivered faster than normal perception could track.

Her wings became weapons—the massive demon wings swinging like clubs, each impact carrying force that could flatten buildings.

And through it all, corruption magic flooded every attack—not passive enhancement, but active spell work, each strike carrying curses designed to decay flesh, corrupt bone, poison blood.

Valentine defended.

His martial arts technique remained perfect despite the overwhelming assault. His hands moved in defensive patterns that blocked, parried, deflected, redirected—every attack countered with minimum motion and maximum efficiency.

But he was being pressed backward for the first time.

Seraphina’s desperate all-out attack was actually forcing the Archbishop onto defensive, making him retreat step by step, preventing him from counter-attacking.

YES! Seraphina thought fiercely. Keep the pressure on! Don’t let him recover! Burn through mana if necessary—just KILL HIM!

Her blade-arms struck Valentine’s ribs—his holy aura blocked most damage but she felt the strike connect, felt his flesh compress beneath the blow.