The impalpable power of the dragon interested Kane to no end. What exactly was this darkness spewing around the battlefield, blessing his ruined flesh with its touch? If he could somehow harness this ability for himself, it would surly give an upper hand in the contest. Maybe not enough of an increase in power to destroy Sorin; no, he was a clear stand out amongst the others. Resurrecting creatures and summoning others to do his bidding, and dark arts magic? The man held a significantly different air about him compared to the others, that was for sure. 

With everyone else launching their attacks, the masked man took the opportunity to get a better observation on the fight by circling around to the side of the dragon. By the looks of it, their combined efforts began to show wear on the dark thing. He could continue to hit it with blasts of fire, but random bursts of heat would only do so much. If only he could concentrate his attacks on specific points… And then Kane saw it, Sazh imbedding Felt’s sword with fire. Kane quickly walked over to the African Gunman, already fiddling with his electrolarynx before reaching the man. “My hand. Set it on fire like you did the others sword. Don’t worry about hurting me, I’ve already been scarred.”