Tunnel vision and a dull ringing in her ears spurred her on towards the towering figure like the world turned on its side and she simply fell towards them. The searing sting gave way to a numbness as instinct took over, Kaite's body fueled by malicious intent to stride forward. A game of chicken had never been so imbalanced in her mind, as purpose was reinforced with every agonizing impact of her heavy boots sinking into soil.
As such, it was a colossal surprise when the figure simply yielded himself to be struck with a deafening screech of steel which showered her in sparks that the blow took from the armor which they dipped down enough to employ.

Skips ended with snags as Kaite turned with every ounce of force to hold on, leaving a deep gash in the armor before being thrown from the momentum. Twirling into the dirt, the knight groaned as she laid prone for a moment. Rest provided no respite as the irons' burn left nothing to be gleaned from sitting idle. She lifted herself back up with just as much difficulty as the first time if not more so from her charge being met with being brushed aside.
Doubt crept in, an insidious concept that if the being was even a shadow of what they were expected to stop, then she had already been defeated once. The miracle that spurred her to stand may not be there a second time, and she was no better off than before. However, a squandered opportunity was hardly what she built her namesake off of, and she shakily rose to-

A concussive force blue through the air, rippling with intensity just as she looked up to meet it head-on. The tattered cloak was torn from Kaite who sunk her sword into the ground, creating deep ruts in the earth as her feet, blade and knees dragged through the earth. Half-handing the blade left indents along the sword's edge from resilient gauntlets clutching with indefatigable purpose, simply letting the shortsword be blown across the clearing in her efforts to anchor herself.

Broken, burnt, burning, Kaite used the momentum to rise a third time, though stumbling back as what felt like a head-rush caused her to teeter once more on the edge of consciousness. If it was not for the agonizing reminder of her deal with the high-elf spirit shackling her to reality, it would have certainly been enough to cement the deal she had with the soil so eager to collect.
It was something more than this, though, while off balance in her attempt to stand with sodden sword pulled from the earth and reeling on foot, her perspective lifted to unveil events as they unfolded. 

[color=gray]There was no monster to be seen other than my quarry, eyes set on the small figure of Zenovia while [i]'They-who-I-know'[/i] Vert darted to the massive sword still plunged into the ground. Inch by inch, joined by Laina to pry it from the earth and their exertion expressed an unholy weight that it held. Determination drew it from the spell, undoing the lock of darkness and opening its gate to allow the prime materium to exude its control over the domain. Dark, still, even after its last breath of bleakness, the light of the fire poured back into the clearing.
Even while Ivan moved to intercept with steel alight with his characteristically resonant sparks of refound mana contorted into lightning, I questioned what the blessing could mean in contrast to my own curse.[/color]

The pain blurred together, though a true cold numbness washed in its wake as the knight steamed with black mist from the wounds. Revitalized curses fought Eru's blessing to mend the various wounds as was its purpose. It was familiar all the same, and was like ice-cold alcohol on a fresh wound that lifted her to stand amidst a new shroud of the mist seeping from her plates.
Focus became dull and the world faded to monochrome from behind Kaite's visor, signifying a farewell to her fleeting but tortuous freedom.

Fireballs hurled from the Storyteller elicited a small laugh from the Black Knight as her grip on the blade loosened enough to swipe dirt from the dented blade before two-handing it. [color=a187be]"Plan?"[/color] Kaite asked, her tone distorted as if four people were speaking while the shimmering visor seemed to curl at the edges like a grin. [color=a187be]"Stop...[i]it[/i]"[/color] she sneered, spinning her sword's handle to her right hand while clenching the dents her grip left with her dominant hand. When she spoke, it was almost like the visor bent and creaked to form the words like a face, the series of holes opening slightly wider to see as she lunged once more, aiming to drive her sword like a spear up into the scar that her initial assault left. From the angle, a glancing blow from the strike would angle it into the weaker mail of the figure's armpit.