Bruce couldn't breathe, his chest heaving with rattled ribs and bones until he finally hacked and coughed violently, prostrate on his knees with his left arm out to support him. 

He hissed and remained there, the pain, more pronounced in his soul than his arm, proving ample enough to render even him, with his practiced self-imposed suppression, temporarily immobile. 

Nexus' words reached him, and out of respect for his opponent and temporary mentor, he craned his neck to watch his final moments.

The armored Order member, the storyteller, fell. Bruce kept his being still in deference to his role as witness of Nexus' blue soul poured out into the chamber. 

[color=0072bc]"You,"[/color] Bruce grit out, pushing his shaken form up, though he kept to his knees. [color=0072bc]"You will be heard now. Along with the other voices. Those who came before, and those who still live."[/color]

Bruce flipped his left wrist, retracting the blade from Nexus' skull with notable effort due to his sudden fatigue. 

[color=0072bc]"Don't worry about Jenso, Nexus,"[/color] Bruce spoke softly into the misty blue, his katana returning gently to his hand. [color=0072bc]"I promised you a proper ending."[/color] 

He flipped the blade down and let it slide into its sheath, taking a cleansing breath.

[color=0072bc]"I intend to deliver."[/color]