The taunt hit its mark.
Ezekiel's expression darkened further, silver aura concentrating around his axe until the weapon glowed like a star.
"Insolent beast."
He attacked with blinding speed, axe carving through air in patterns too complex for ordinary perception to track.
Each strike targeted vital points with surgical precision—throat, heart, spine.
The monkey dodged with ease, its movements less combat and more dance.
It twisted between attacks that would have bisected other opponents, giggling as if participating in some delightful game rather than mortal combat.
"Missed me! Missed again!" It pirouetted around a horizontal slash. "So serious! So slow!"
Its staff flicked out, tapping the City Lord's shoulder with deliberate gentleness—not attacking but mocking.
Ezekiel roared in frustration, abandoning precision for raw power.
His axe became a silver comet, each swing generating shockwaves that cracked the street beneath them.
