Fury was moving with sheer adrenaline and reflex, muscle memory, which was why after his first two blows landed powerfully on his opponent’s fragile face he was moving in to launch the final two lower punches. This put him forward on his right foot, and when his opponent apparently committed to some form of falling kick he was pretty confused and surprised, but none of this influenced his defence. He dropped his left leg into the path of the flailing limb, where the blow glanced off his own shin before it could arc up and into his relatively unprotected groin.

What Fury had not been expecting was the pain the contact caused, far disproportionate to the force of the attack. He jumped backwards in alarm, the leg failing momentarily under his weight before life began to return, though when he looked down the blow had singed straight through his tough trousers. He took a few more cursory steps backwards, aware that he should have immediately taken advantage of his opponent’s position on the ground but unwilling to jump in until he had worked out what had happened. 

After a moment of quick thinking, likely giving Kanitah the seconds required to regain his feet, Fury worked out that the rings adorning his foes body were lending him greater strength. This was troublesome to the Fireen, because he had the least resistance to a foe matching him in sheer melee force. Still, it wasn’t enough to cause fear, not yet at least, Fury could claim bravery if nothing else.

And if he was resorting to his tricks, then Fury would do the same.

He rolled his right arm and shook the pain from his left leg as he stared at his opponent across the ten feet separating them. Then, he drew his right hand low to his hip, cupping energy in his hand, it wasn’t quite visible yet, but the force was growing with every second. With his left hand he held a fist out and ready to defend himself, it was time to heat things up.