Whatever magic the girl used was certainly coming in handy. The Weeper had committed to his thrust and his blade was likely to slash across her arm regardless of her efforts, testament to the last second nature of her escape. Better than being impaled, certainly. That same magic was apparently used to super-charge her projectiles, like the knife before, the steel pellets or whatever they were that she threw at him crashed into his left forearm and across his stomach. Luckily for him perhaps the objects seemed to lack mass, and at such proximity they had little time to accelerate, they weren’t like being shot point-blank with a shotgun at any rate. Two of the coins cut neatly through the ruffles on his sleeve and stabbed into his forearm, two more cut across the front of his shirt and left bloody cuts that quickly spilled out onto his shirt, dampening it with crimson lines. From the Weeper, no sound emerged. If he was perturbed that his thrust had earned itself only token damage and he himself had been harmed, it did not show. 

Instead, he turned with remarkable agility in the direction the girl had launched herself in. She had her back to him now as she sent herself skyward and began plummeting back to the ground, he would exploit that ruthlessly. Perhaps she would begin to fear, his aura saturated the area with its insidious purpose, heightening the strain of battle that pushed down on her. The Weeper had a life to claim and he would claim it. The sound of his running footsteps were the only indicator that the reaper himself pursued her, his blade had a taste for her blood already, but it was yet to be satisfied.