What was this? Nothing to say? Daimon chuckled darkly to himself, repeating the incantation with stronger conviction. He tugged harder, the hands of his spell gripped tightly around the contending demon. Desperation seeped out of Wanda's pores. Daimon knew what it was doing, and this fight required a considerable amount of patience on his part. Absolutely this hellspawn was stronger than any that the Prince of Hell had faced as of late, but it wasn't invincible, and it would regret the second it'd ever violated Wanda, or doubted the half-demon's strength. Daimon continued to fantasize about his foe's terrible fate; maybe he'd make the monster choke on its own tongue, rip it clean out of its mouth. Where were its glib taunts now? That prideful grin? Daimon continued to pull, energy flaring and his arms bulging as he yanked against the diabolical force. What a pathetic, misguided creature. The Son of Satan looked forward to its demise.