There it was... the power... the spectre was certain of it now... a relic. He felt someone's soul empowered by it, but also the relics own soul. The powerful fragment of a legendary hero... dead like him... he saw it surge along with the blades at the plummeting dragon. These people... they had one... and the one they had sparked something in him. The spectre had long forgotten why exactly he sought the legend relics, only that he sought them. As he watched the blades and it's soul a vestigial, ancient memory blinded him. He was suddenly surrounded by screams... knee deep in gore and viscera... it was jarring. 

Suddenly he was returned to the moment at hand, a dragon rapidly falling towards him. He broke into his fastest run, quickly shambling away. However he didn't get quite far enough and when the beast... and the Crimson woman who... made the spectre feel some strange memory or... something, crashed to the ground he was flung from his heavy feat, landing hard on the ground. As the dust settled, he hoped the beast was finally dead, for he wished to know what the rapidly increasing number of living humans would do to the spectre... the ghost... the old dead one in their midst. He kept his sword arm tensed... just in case.