It’s been a while, so here, have something that just rolled through my head today:

“Get hence, wretch!”, I said. “You are no fit nemesis for the lady. An Excellence’s _mélith_ merits equivalent weight; I deem you narratively inadequate for the role.”

  “An’ what can you do about it?”

“I could, were I of a mind, wreak such prodigies of unmaking upon flesh and logos each as to excite the interest of passing annihilation physicists and students of the infinitesimal.” I tilted my sword slightly, making the edge of the mollyblade gleam in the sunlight. “But I’m afraid that I don’t find you a suitable nemesis for _me_, either, and so I must content myself with removing a few of your more saleable organs.”