Eric blocked Liza’s sword with his deformed arm. It was like that of steel as Liza’s blade was parried away. Yet, Liza continued attacking relentlessly.
[...]
Liza aimed for Eric’s neck, but he managed to dodge and backflip away as Liza twirled her sword with her palm, readying herself once more. The blond smiled. His arm morphed into the shape of a warhammer. He swung from the side, interlocking with the blade, their clash causing a metallic scream.
[...]
Liza, whose weapon had just been destroyed, threw away what remained of it—only a handle and a crushed blade—and pulled out a knife from her waist.
[...]
He was powerful. Not only was his arm powerful enough to cave in a riot shield strong enough to withstand grenades, but he was also thorough.
[...]
Although the machine gun bullets had wrecked most of the furniture, Eric’s body was completely unscathed.