You raise your hand, and begin gathering power.
"Then you will die," the daemon says, matter-of-factly. It raises its lash, and you respond with Red, aimed right for its face, almost at point-blank range.
It dodges, moving more swiftly than the other one you faced. You, on the other hand, stand your ground, taking the risk that it has some way to overcome or bypass Infinity--you don't think that it does, but the risk does exist. Taking that risk lets you fire off your technique right in its face, though, so even though it dodges, it doesn't wholly escape.
The Red passes mostly through one ragged wing, blowing apart the distal phalange but nothing else. The lash lands straight on Infinity, and as expected, does not pass through it. In the wake of each attack, it charges, and this time, you dodge, letting the axe pass harmlessly over your head. It snarls, and you smirk, and the speed of its next attack is--breathtaking.
Exhilirating.
You still dodge this one, and let it whiff by Infinity. Another Red, and a Blue following it, one after the other, and while it dodges the first one, it doesn't quite get away from the second; once again, you hit its wing, and this time, the energy tears what is left of it apart, leaving it unbalanced, with one ragged wing, and one ichorous stub.
The pain that it must be feeling doesn't seem to do anything to bother the daemon; rather, it drives it, enrages it, and makes it faster. Stronger. Still, its next attack fails to land, and so does the one after that, alternating axe and whip, and a lash of one foot, in a swift flurry.
The last one, you allow to impact Infinity again, and flash a taunting smile.
"How?!" the daemon, the Bloodthirster demands. "You should be mad--enraged. You should be in pieces!" It snarls again, and you dance away from its next attacks.
"Ah, well," you say in response. "You can't touch me, that's all. You could surrender now," you add, smiling like a reaper's scythe, and showing all your teeth. You take the time to build energy more carefully--an entire second--and send out another Red. The darmon is fast enough to dodge again, and roars something incomprehensible; you ignore it, and spin up another Blue, sending it out, and this time, when the daemon goes to dodge, you control it, pulling it back in and hitting the daemon squarely.
It takes it, roaring with rage.
You ignore the temptation then to close with it, to fight it hand-to-hand; it would be a thrill, but you can't afford thrills right now. You need to work on protecting the people here, the space marines and the people behind the walls of the nearby fortress, and anyone else who might be around. And so, you use your technique once again--or you start to, anyway.
This time, the swing of the axe impacts Infinity without you explicitly allowing it. Faster. It's faster. And you just can't resist, while it's here, where you can reach it--
It's an application of Blue to accellerate your fists into a blinding impact, and you hit--just so. And.
Black flash.
It smashes the side of the daemon, and it wobbles back--
It does not fall. It catches itself on the back foot, and recovers swiftly. Not swiftly enough.
You strike again, and once again--
Black flash.
The look of utter shock and confusion is expected. Cursed spirits are frequently confused when you start beating them down.
The thrill of sheer bloody-minded joy is not expected, and it rallies to strike back again, all the harder, trying once more to slash its way through Infinity. It fails, of course, but it tries. It strikes again, and it kicks at you, and it fails again, as you come up under its guard for a third time, striking hard--
Black flash.
This just keeps getting easier. You go to strike again, and the daemon manages to dodge it this time, by the skin of its teeth. It swings the whip and axe both, preventing you from closing with it again.
Though it shows no sign of flagging stamina, the creature is in bad shape. There's a hole clear through its torso, bleeding ichor and steaming where you struck it three times with Black Flash. One shredded wing is completely gone, and its face is smashed in like a pug's. (You wonder briefly if pugs still exist.)
"Give up," you tell it, as you prepare a powered up Red. Light flares in your fingers and your eyes, the pressure of it lifting like wind. "You can't possibly win."
Its whip lashes out like lightning, and its axe falls like a mountain, and neither hit you. You dodge, again, and you launch a maximum-output Red, right at its centre mass, from point-blank range.
It strikes dead-on, and the daemon roars in denial, even as your power disintegrates it.
You are left with a smoking patch on the ground, an empty ring of earth, surrounded on all sides by waiting daemons. You fold your fingers into a fist, and then point at them. Point down. Drag your thumb across your throat, and grin.
Some of them actually turn back and flee toward where you can sense the nearest portal. None of the red ones go; instead, they charge you, as one.
Dispatching them is pitifully easy. So is taking care of the rest of them in the immediate area.
The vox on your wrist crackles.
"What in the name of all that is holy was that?" comes the demand over it; the Captain's voice.
"Me," you reply. "Now--"
[] "Go lift that siege; I'm going to take care of the portal."
[] "Let's go lift that seige."
[] Something else? (Write in.)