The metal slips between antogonists ribs. Niether of them can die, He dosen't want that, He grins. Suffering is all that His mind is set to. The battle is painted in the land beneath them. Antagonist is pinned to the dirt the earth opens her mouth to drain away the blood, the blade has found a home inside. Hate is here, what had always been an idea took flesh became a man and like every wave of the oceans converging on a single grain of sand, He thrust that sword. Every beat of antagonists heart must contend with the edge of this blade. Every breath will drag his lung against it. The sword found it's way there and He continues to lean into it, every muscle in His body flexs against the wound. Deeper than the darkness between the stars Antagonist would wish for death if it was a place that could open for him. This is not enough, revenge was the motive, was the goal, was found. But this revenge can only spend his strength and use his hate to propel him on, strength will waiver and seep away, but hate no matter how much is drawn to fuel, need not ever be found in lack.