<Snipped quote by Memory>
*Chuckles, no reaction from the knife piercing my chest despite black ichor pooling around your hands.*
You think me mortal?
*I wind back my free arm, my hand forming a blade.*
Pathetic
*I punch the blade through your chest and heart, twisting it inside you. Amaranthine begins corrupting your bloodstream, halting your healing.*
*Ducks backward and kicks you high into the air*
Anything can be killed.
*A barrage of claymore swords spear into you*