Your forehead beads with sweat, breath short, and your grip on the body of your lance is steadfast.

Foulques is as exhausted as you, the Elezen panting as his attacks finally relent. "Impossible," his voice full of disbelief, "My courage is absolute." In his battle-crazed state, he staggers back, lance swinging erratically. "Come no closer!"

His heel starts to slip off the cliff edge behind him. Eyes widening in horror, he begins to lose his footing, his hand desperately reaching for you.