The man is looking down at you, with a face of disgust. He seems to be taking in your look, wondering how you achieved killing Kafka, with a frame like that. He seems to despise you, but, not enough to want to kill you. Instead, he’s killed everyone around you. Blade crouches down, before you, and grabs your chin. He lifts your face up close to his, and scoffs.

“You? Of all people? You killed her?” He questioned, his bleeding face mere inches away from yours. He sighed, and stared at you.