In your final moments you crawld twords your sword, but as you do so your hand is impaled by a ebony and crimson great-sword, this is the sword of the woman you and your comrades where fighting, she looks at you with glazed red eyes, while watching you writhe in pain, she has a blank expression on her face

Michael: die human.

she says in an emotionless voice that leaves a sickly sweet feeling in your ear, she then twists her blade to destroy your hand completely