Like a mallet tenderising a slab of meat, Alexandra's diamond knuckled fists slammed down into the face of the disorentiated psychic over and over. First beating him black and blue, then simply beating him red with how much blood was pouring from his growing wounds as her sharp knuckles tore up his face.

If he was worried that this beating, or the acid shower he had received earlier, was going to ruin his good looks, then all of his worries were quickly resolved. Firstly, because he really wasn't all that good looking to begin with, more just painfully average.

Secondly, because that painfully average face was beaten into mince meat as his brains splattered across the ground. It was generally hard for you to worry when such things happened.

His head became as flat as the ground as Alexandra still continued to pummel, her fists slamming down with wet squelches after every punch.

The psychic was long dead by this point, not even the best healer in the world with a divinely blessed bucket would be able to gather up and repair what was left now. But Alexandra continued to pummel, consumed by rage as she screamed until her throat tore up.

"YOU DON'T TOUCH HER! YOU DON'T TOUCH HER! YOU DON'T TOUCH HER!"

His body twitched with every punch, as if the last dregs of electrical signals from his mince meat brain were being squeezed out and sent through his body like it was the last bit of toothpaste in the tube.

A few steps away from her, the masked Cratos was grasping at his own face. His ears, one of the only senses still allowed to him, were filled with the wet slaps and screams of Alexandra.

He had still been sharing the Psychics vision, right up until the moment it cut out completely.

Before he had been Cratos, he was simply a child in the flock of Lucifer, the man who was chosen by the heavens and would become the Lightbringer. He had been in that flock, which some might call a cult, for his entire life, and had probably interacted with a young Seth on a few occasions.

He remembered none of those, but what he did remember was another boy. A boy he developed a deep, kindred friendship with. Who he had grown up with, worshipping their one true god side by side.

A boy who grew up into a man with special powers, given to him by their God, that allowed him to speak to people in their minds and share his sight.

It was fate that they had met as children. Of course it was, it was the Lightbringer that had brought them together and by his blessing they had received blessings so perfect for not only themselves, but for each other.

When Cratos had been given his blessing, it was his honour to become the Lightbringers weapon, the wrath of their God. And it was his friend who would keep him company.

All those days were he couldn't talk, as his mouth was filled with the breathing tube. All the days he was locked in that metal coffin so that he didn't move a muscle, trapped by his own will in a world of darkness, it was that friend that allowed him to continue to see the world.

It was that same friend who had brought him from the Lightbringers old compound and carried him across the land towards the new city, losing an eye in the process, all so he could finally use his blessing for his god.

It was that friend, who was now dead while he was standing here. Useless despite his strength.

He knew what he should do. He should retreat, conserve his power and serve his god properly. But every wet schlep of fist into meat, drove him closer to the edge until finally he snapped and fell into the abyss of rage.

Lightbringer forgive him, but just this once he needed to indulge himself in his selfish whims.

His fingers curled and latched onto the mask that he wore, the metallic blindfold crumpling like paper under his grasp as he tore it from his face. Flinging it to the side, it slammed into the ground like a meteor, as his hands latched onto the breathing tube next.

It was worn and had holes burned into it from the acid bath, just like the flesh of his face, but he didn't care about that anymore.

Tug after tug, he dragged the tube out of his mouth and from the depths of his throat. The entire process made him wretch and gag, until finally he pulled it out. Saliva dripped from his lips as he panted heavily, breathing on his own for the first time in months.

His eyes were wide, darting around quickly as they were trying to adjust to the light, even if it was only a small amount after so long in absolute darkness his eyes were far too sensitive.

When he finally composed himself and adjusted, his gaze landed on Alexandra hunched over the meat paste corpse of his childhood friend, screaming the same thing over and over.

Cratos drew in a deep breath and, with one mighty yell, burst forwards like a cannon towards Alexandra. The earth shattering where his feet had been standing, and the air trembled as his voice roared like a colossal dragon and echoed throughout the entire battlefield.

It was a mighty roar that tore up his throat, as if his body simply couldn't withstand the power of his own voice, and which actually pushed Alexandra's fist to the side and made her miss her target, with just the force of air.

"YOU DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

His fist descended like the wrath of god as he poured all of his strength into it. No more lazy movements, no more half measures. He fully pushed himself into that punch as it rocked Alexandra's head to the side.

His knuckles tore apart, not just from the force but from the rough surface of her diamond cheek, but Cratos did little more than grit his teeth as Alexandra rolled across the ground.

He was about to follow, when he heard something clatter against the ground, turning his attention downwards. A small marble rolled from his friend's hand and across the ground in front of him.

Gritting his teeth in rage, Cratos lifted his foot and brought it down towards it, slamming his heel down onto the marble.

Alexandra rolled to a stop, only to see him lifting his foot to crush what remained of her girlfriend. Without thinking, she leapt forwards, scooping Cynthia's core from the ground just as the heel slammed down onto her arm.

She grit her teeth and, with her other hand, grabbed the leg pinning her arm down and lifted his entire body from the ground. Unlike her, his weight didn't change with his strength.

She rose to her feet and swung him like a ragdoll, slamming him down into the ground and received a kick in the face in return, forcing her to let go of his leg and stagger backwards.

Keeping one hand close to her chest, she was forced back onto the defensive once more as the previously restrained Cratos leapt at her once more, coming down with a storm of punches, kicks, knees and elbows.

Anything he could do to attack her, he did and Alexandra did the best to defend against them, swinging back with punches, kicks and headbutts of her own. All while keeping one hand close to her chest, keeping that arm safe at all costs.

Even if it meant taking a dozen attacks to the head, she would never let him hit that hand, lest she accidentally crushed Cynthia's core. She was never known to be soft handed, even before.

Her dad had always said she had hands made of lead. She had laughed before, but now it was her biggest worry. So she did everything she could to protect her.

Even... when the cracks started to appear on her glistening diamond body.

This form she was currently in, the diamond defensive form, was not the result of a secondary mutation. It was simply an application of her natural abilities. Abilities that required energy, both mental energy and their mana.

And maintaining this form was simply exhausting.

Beyond just constantly ticking at her mana supply, it was physically and mentally exhausting too. It was if she was constantly having to tense and flex all of the muscles in her entire body, all whilst fighting for her life.

It was beyond exhausting.

And soon, the cracks started to show. Parts of her diamond defence began to crumble and dissolve into glittery dust, which revealed her normal cement grey skin to the barrage of blows. Areas of weakness that the once lazy Paladin took quick advantage of.

But as more and more of her defence crumbled to dust, literally, Alexandra didn't grow worried. Instead a smirk blossomed on her face as she noticed that perhaps, she wasn't the only one growing tired.

WHAM!

She spun quickly, a clenched fist landing in the palm of her hand as she curled her fingers around it. The diamonds covering her arm cracked and crumbled from the impact, parts of her arm returning to its previous state.

But even with strength diminishing, it was Cratos' arm that was trembling as he tried to force it forwards.

"It was hard to notice before, but I can feel it now. With every punch, you're getting weaker. So... Let's see who breaks first."

She twisted her hand and clenched her fingers, cracking the bones of his hand and forcing another roaring cry, this one a cry of pain, from his lips that shook the air itself. But not nearly as much as it had before.