[i]The spearhead would push through whatever light plating was covering the man's chest, his body arching forwards as the head of the weapon was pushed through his solar plexus. A spurt of blood escaped the new wound, dripping past the spear's tip. The masked individual looked up at Cain, dropping the claymore with a ruckus of a clatter.[/i] "...Damn.. I thought the stupid spin would throw you off, too bad I underestimated." [i]The cloaked being would begin to push himself off of the spearhead, only to fall against the ground and kick a little. Yet he was able to draw a dagger from his rapidly bleeding jacket, one final gurgle leaving his masked voice.[/i] "...You have no idea of what will happen.. if you win." [i]In his last moments, the man would press the blade against his chest, as if it was one final salute, a puddle of blood now forming underneath his body. He had gone still.[/i]