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Szanod slowly looked down at his damaged armour. Noone, demon, angel or human, had ever been able to pierce it. It was his most prized investment and for a moment, he felt what he hadn't felt in eons: doubt.
While he knew that his dark energies would quickly repair it, the mere fact that he had a weakness troubled him. "So be it, he thought, where one might see weakness, I will draw strength."
Closing his eyes, Szanod drew directly upon the energies of the Netherworld. The gash in his armour had exposed his true flesh, which had been exposed to the darkness for so long, that it had become one with it. Suddenly, dark tentacles shot forth from his chest, constricting themselves around Kuaiji. If the etheral being thought that the spikes hurt him before, the touch of the tentacles was, in a word, agonizing.
Still holding his opponent tightly, Szanod created a wall of spikes and repeatedly beat Kuaiji into it. More than a strategy, Szanod wanted to vent his frustration at having been made to doubt himself. Each blow was harder than the previous and only after a good 12 seconds of this was the demon finally inclined to stop.
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A plan is just a list of things that don't happen.
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