"Ha..."
A gasp escaped the mouth of the sword saint, as he stumbled backwards. He fell to the ground, coughing up blood.
A searing pain was felt on his lower abdomen, his armor had evaporated and revealed an injury that seemed like cancer. It was a wound that oozed the color of blue, and spread out in cracks. His blood seeped out.
He used his sword to balance himself, wondering how and why Alan had suddenly fallen unconscious to the ground. However, he was in no state to ponder for long.
The blow, he failed to block, was devastating...even though it hadn't even hit him completely. The black sphere on the tip of Alan's fist filled him with such fear he stopped thinking, and acted on instinct, using whatever time he had to try to block it.
But he simply wasn't fast enough...and if Alan hadn't fallen unconscious, he would have died. There was no doubt in his mind.
