Jezin's rage-induced charge had been too fast to bail out of. As he made the stab with the dirk, he realized he had sealed his fate. All his faith, all his devotion to Sophia, all the vows he had sworn, and all the pride in his heart were for naught. The tip of the longsword struck the same area where he had been stabbed earlier, easily piercing through the damaged mail. The bodyguard felt a pain worse than any he had ever felt as the cold steel of the sword made it's way through his armor and into his chest. The blade skewered through him, going clean through his torso and out through the back of his cuirass. His eyes widened, and he coughed as blood poured from his mouth. The man had made a fatal strike. Feeling consciousness slipping away, Jezin made a last ditch effort. All the rage in his heart spurned him on. He forced himself forward, moving further and further along the blade. Blood now soaked his shirt and armor, pouring out onto the ground. The pain was unbearable, but he could not let this man leave. If he had to die, he would take Sophia's pursuer with him. He felt his chest touch the guard of the man's longsword. Dropping his own blade, he grabbed the man around the wrist. A smirk crossed his face, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Clenching his hand tightly around his enemy's wrist, he raised his left hand, gripping the dirk, and plunged it towards the center of the man's throat.