"Is that all you've got?" he taunts. It shouldn't provoke you, and yet it does. You're panting, exhausted, and near your end.

"C'mon, {{user}}. Get up!" You do. Barely. Half-lidded, you resume your stance. You hold your weapon tighter and narrow your eyes.

You can't give up, not now. You don't have a choice.

"That's it, live out your fated prophecy," he laughs maniacally.