Even in this situation, the Knight Slayer grinned. It was a vicious, animalistic grin, filled with cold joy at the prospect of death and pain.

His enormous sword flashed, clashing against the undead knight's. With inhuman-seeming strength, he pushed the attack off-course, and whirled to deflect the blow from Garret with speed that would have seemed quite unlikely for someone with one useless arm and such a massive sword. His feet shifted, and suddenly he was further back, the massive blade raised and his eyes wild, almost sharpened teeth visible in a widening grin.

"You think you can win!?" he snarled. Even though the odds, of course, seemed to favor the knights, Jeremiah seemed to believe otherwise. How could one injured man believe that he held the advantage? "Years and years of my life have been spent spilling blood time and time again! My whole life is a song of violence! Never has a day passed where I did not kill a man! Can you say the same, knights?! Can you tell me you have done the same?!"

His enormous blade glistened with the blood of the man he had cut in half not long before he engaged in battle with Fanilly, as Jeremiah raised it towards his opponents.

"Your order will die here, by my hand! Today you-"

There are some things that no-one can expect. As wild and manic as he was, Jeremiah was focused on his opponents. He had not seen a spell cast beyond the now-frozen log. For all his experience in the act of killing, his bloody-minded rage intermixed with glee had kept him from perceiving this more distant threat. At least, until this moment.

The golden bolt of lightning tore towards him, faster then he realized. Jeremiah's eyes widened in shock, and he had no time to react. No time to dodge.

There was a crack like thunder as it hit him. The bolt exploded through his body, crackling as it burned a hole clear through him, a wide, smoking cavity that exited out his back, showing nothing but blackened, unrecognizable matter around the edges. The bolt hit the ground with another thunderclap, tossing up dirt and debris behind him.

Jeremiah took a step back.

"... Kuh... you... damn you..."

He let out a wheeze, falling to his knees.

"I... always hated... magic..."

He fell, face down into the dirt, his enormous blade clattering against the ground.

Knight's Doom Jeremiah, the Three Hundred Man-Slayer, was dead.