Lightning. Energy. Power. Indra clamped down on the muscle of Ginji's shoulder, sharp teeth ripping through flesh with a sickening, tearing sound. The demon devoured what portions of Ginji it could sink its fangs into, savoring the blood and flesh as though it was a delicacy fit for a king's table.
The pen stabbed into Indra's face, but what did that matter? It had no eyes to blind, it had no ears to deafen, and the thick ichor which streamed down its face didn't seem to slow it down or to bother it in the least. Nor did that flailing arm seem to be regarded more than the death throes of a prey animal, or so one would have to assume from the way that diabolic monster paid both attacks no heed.
That electricity, though...
That electricity was drawn into Indra's body like a plant soaked up the sunlight, the great Demon of Thunder ignoring its first target in favor of this new tidbit about its chosen morsel. Before their eyes each blue bolt was drawn into Indra's own body, lightning crackling and hungry like a living animal as it began gathering in Indra's halo, began shooting between each of the three prongs of Vajra, the sharp points of the lance conducting the thunder and feeding it, containing it there.
At the same time, Indra's other hand, the one with the razor-sharp discs, blindly began trying to score down Ginji's side, down his torso, anything to draw blood, to draw pain and fear to the surface of the young one's mind, eager for more of that raw power...
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The pen stabbed into Indra's face, but what did that matter? It had no eyes to blind, it had no ears to deafen, and the thick ichor which streamed down its face didn't seem to slow it down or to bother it in the least. Nor did that flailing arm seem to be regarded more than the death throes of a prey animal, or so one would have to assume from the way that diabolic monster paid both attacks no heed.
That electricity, though...
That electricity was drawn into Indra's body like a plant soaked up the sunlight, the great Demon of Thunder ignoring its first target in favor of this new tidbit about its chosen morsel. Before their eyes each blue bolt was drawn into Indra's own body, lightning crackling and hungry like a living animal as it began gathering in Indra's halo, began shooting between each of the three prongs of Vajra, the sharp points of the lance conducting the thunder and feeding it, containing it there.
At the same time, Indra's other hand, the one with the razor-sharp discs, blindly began trying to score down Ginji's side, down his torso, anything to draw blood, to draw pain and fear to the surface of the young one's mind, eager for more of that raw power...