"I like that outfit." He smiles at me.

I straighten my collar. I was in a brown cloak with a white shirt. The sleeves were puffy, and I wore a necklace. I wore tight pants and black shoes. I draw my sword. My heart races. This is like what I felt when I first fought. 

"I aim to please." I say. 

He straightens his tie. He wore a brighter white suite, and his pants were tighter. He was in his true demonic form. His eyes were all open. He draws his pitchfork. 

"You know this is a duel, right?" I look at him.

"Of course." He charges.

I charge. Our swords clash. I jump up. He jumps up. We hit each other's weapons again. I jump back. He lunges. He's strong. Yet, I feel like he's holding back. I dodge his next attack. I draw my sword and aim at his wing. He blocks it with his weapon. He's powerful, but why do I feel like he's holding back? He could kill me easily. Is he just playing with his food?

His pitchfork lights up. A golden ray shoots out. I dodge. It destroys a column. I look back at him. I stand up and I dust myself off.

"I was wondering when we would stop playing." I say.

"Hmm." His eyes narrow. 

He lunges forward. This time too quickly. He slams me into the wall. 

"You can do better than this." He smiles.

"Quite right." I say.

I kick him and I jump up. I slam my sword down onto the ground just cutting his hair by a small margin. He flies back. He slams his pitchfork into the ground, and it cracks. He flies up and the pitchfork glows. I jump up. He shoots out another blast. I dodge. It follows me. He tilts it after me. I'm like a sparrow being chased by a hawk. Bother.