Minutes.
That was what it had been on paper.
But inside it—inside the weight of every exchange, every counter, every layered spell and every reinforced strike—it had felt like something longer. Something heavier. Time had stretched and bent under the pressure of two presences refusing to break, each collision dragging seconds into what felt like hours.
The demon Captain had not been wrong to be confident.
By any standard that mattered—speed, technique, spell complexity—it belonged at the top of what its grade could produce. Its spell field had been refined. Its adaptability had been real. Its composure in combat had been the kind that only came from hundreds of battles survived.
And yet, here they were.
Both of them still standing. Both of them slowing.
Not obviously. Not in a way that would be visible to an outside observer without the sharpest senses. But the signs were there for those who knew where to look.
