"You're not going to make it!" A man screamed, telling him to give up but the man in question had begun descending just a few feet shy on him.
Pulling out his dagger, he summoned the remaining strength to reinforce my arm and dagger before driving it into the face of that man.
The very air distorted by the smell from fresh blood emanating from the man's smashed face, the eyeball was ripped out with white brain flashing in bare.
With no time to waste, he unleashed the digger into his fist, striking downward rather than straight at the rocky cliffside.
His hands—along with the rest of his body—clammy with sweat, he nearly lost his grip but managed to hold on.
Clinging for dear life until he was able to pull himself up, not giving up.
