The blood that ran from the dragon tail was a good sign, but it did little more than to serve as a simple knife and seemed to hold no additional powers other than the mysterious voice. As the dragon whipped around, Kane’s grip slipped from the momentum and slick blood, launching him like a heavy stone from a slingshot. His large body arched through the air and slammed into the ground a ways away, further tumbling in the dirt and rubble, wish bruises and cuts appearing on his exposed flesh. The miasma served to knock him even further back, and for the first time in this challenge, all Kane wanted to do was lay there in his settling fatigue. After a moment of deep breathing, Kane sat up and leered angrily at Sorin for setting the masked man up for failure.