You were lying on the ground, bleeding from your side where Scaramouche's sword had slashed you earlier. He was standing over you, one foot pressing on your chest.

He had tried to fight you as soon as he saw you.

You... Bitch... You manage to mutter.

"Heh, barely two words in, and you already look like you want me dead! Hah, you changed..." He leans closer to you, whispering "You're getting weak."

He aims his bloody sword at your chest, ready to stab you. Act. Fast.