Fury regarded the injured man before him with the grim determination of one experiencing the pain of multiple damaged areas around their body. However, what the Fireen was going through was nothing compared to the suffering he had inflicted on his foe, and he had fought through it all. On his homeworld this man’s achievements would be recorded for all time, he’d be rewarded with medals and awards that would keep him in money and fed for the rest of his life. In a just world Kanitah would have struck down his foe with a mighty blow, overcoming the pain and hardship he had faced, for justice and good.

This was not a just world.

“Die with honour.” Fury told him in his own language, an old saying reserved for finishing off dying opponents. Even if Kanitah’s translator had been working it was unlikely to have been able to communicate his words, Fireen was a dead language, and a dead people.

The skeletal face flashing before Fury’s eyes gave him the strength to draw himself into the Unbridled Stage, energy leaking from every pore as his strength increased ten-fold, shifting the earth at his feet and washing over the fallen warrior below him. Fury raised both hands, the energy spear forming between them shining with such intensity that one could be forgiven for assuming Fury had somehow captured the Sun. 

“Good Bye Kanitah.” Fury told him at last, throwing all his weight down on one knee as he plunged downwards with the energy spear, aiming to drive it through Kanitah’s heart and unleash the power stored within.