Fury was unsurprised that he had put his opponent on the ground, but he was not yet enraged so immediately moving in to finish the job was not high on his agenda. Better to draw it out and not underestimate his opponent, the soldier in him knew that luck could turn any battle. He had shot through Kanitah and delivered a strike, though the sound had been wrong for skull-contact so he assumed the smaller brawler had managed to divert his strike at the last moment to a fleshier target. Assuming Kanitah would still be standing Fury had then immediately bounded right-ward and span around, drawing energy into his palm and ready for a counter attack.

Instead Kanitah had been before him sprawled in the dirt, looking somewhat dazed from Fury’s fist. He wasn’t looking in the right direction, and he was still down on his belly, so Fury deemed it wise to deal with him now. The energy already prepared he hefted it, forming a bright blue spear made from his power alone in his right hand. With a javelin like throw he launched it at his downed opponent, the distance negligible at only fifteen feet or so, the space he had cleared with a single bound earlier.

If luck held and Kanitah failed to recover his senses, the spear would probably pierce through his ribs and into his torso. Fury fervently hoped it would.