Mahaad dropped to one knee, suddenly feeling weak.
"I'll give you the same deal as you gave me. Give yourself up now and I won't hurt you too much." The thief smirked.
The pain began to return now that the power had faded. That glorious feeling, gone. He could have done so much with that magic; he could have done away with the thief, and probably made his way home too. The pain seemed to be less than before, thankfully, yet his chest still throbbed with each heartbeat, reminding him of how injured he was.
"Gods why am I such a damn fool!" he thought. "I lost my opportunity... I don't know if I can take him in a fight anymore... Especially when I'm wounded like this. I don't know how quickly my magic will return to me after I used it like that..." He blinked and shook his head. "I have to try anyways. I've made it so far, I can't give up now! Not after what he did to Mana."
Mahaad stood and took up a fighting stance. He was very thankful for his Pharaoh's insistence that he study physical fighting as well as magical fighting.
He heard a hissing sound through the air, and ducked his head just in time to avoid a knife flung by Bakura.
"You were standing there so long I'd almost thought you fell asleep," mocked the thief. "I'm guessing you're going to be courageous and fight me, right?
"I will fight you, don't doubt that."
"Well I hope you have better control of yourself in a fight than you do of your magic, magician. It'll be boring if I just beat you in an instant. Honestly though I don't expect any more from you. You've proved to be weak the whole way through, but a man can always dream can't he?"
With that he sprang at Mahaad and slashed at him with yet another knife.
Mahaad was waiting for the thief to make a move this time, and ducked underneath him.
"Gods, please lend me your strength," the priest prayed quickly, hoping for a miracle.
Bakura lunged at him a few more times, but couldn't land a cut on him.
"Coward," he spat. "Weakling."
"Oh I'm the coward? I'm unarmed facing someone who's too afraid to throw away his last weapon. What's the matter, scared I'll beat you?"
"Heh, nice try magician. That's not going to work on me."
"So what you really don't have any honor? Fighting an injured weaponless person with a knife?"
"What need have I for honor? You misunderstand me magician, the only important thing is winning. I don't care how I do it, but I like to win. If your honor tells me to disarm myself in a battle because you don't have a weapon then you're a bigger fool than I thought."
"Well," Mahaad thought to himself. "It was worth a shot."
"Urk." The magician gasped as he felt a sharp pain pierce his stomach. He stood in shock for a moment, trying to comprehend what was happening. "It was the knife," he realized. "Bakura threw it."
He collapsed to his knees, chest heaving as he clutched at the weapon. He stared downwards at the injury, mouth agape from the unexpected wound. Blood trickled slowly downwards from the gash.
"My, that looks like it hurt. How unfortunate."
He strolled over, bending down and looking at Mahaad in the face with twinkling eyes and a disturbingly bright smile. "I told you to cooperate. I warned you of the consequences. You didn't want to listen and look what happened. The kid gloves are off now. You thought what I did to you was bad before? You'll beg for me to go back to dropping coals on you, magician."
He grabbed Mahaad by the chin and pulled him upright.
"It begins now."
Bakura grabbed the knife and twisted it deeper into Mahaad.
He let out a cry of pain, but was unable to do anything to resist him.
"Why... Why can't I do anything," the priest thought. "I can't move my arms..."
Tears rolled down his cheeks from the excruciating pain. They encouraged Bakura more, and the thief started laughing hysterically.
He threw the magician to the floor and stepped on his face, mashing his sandal on him.
"Are you having fun yet?" the thief shrieked. "I've never had so much fun!"
"Why am I so weak..." Mahaad thought. "I can't do anything against him... I..."
The thief stepped on his throat, making the magician choke.
"He's... Going to kill me. I swore I'd make sure... He'd never hurt anybody else... I can't give up.
The magician gasped for air, running out of breath. He thought it was all going to end right there. Bakura took his foot off, then kicked his side so hard he flipped Mahaad over.
Mahaad gasped for air when he entered a coughing fit. He had trouble getting air into his lungs after that.
"Now do you see how restrained I've been with you magician? This is still nothing compared to what I can do to you."
He seemed to have calmed himself down a bit, having beaten Mahaad so harshly.
"I... I almost didn't make it... I have to stop him now..."
Mahaad still couldn't move; he laid down on his hands and knees, clutching at the knife with one hand.
Bakura walked over in front of the coughing, sobbing magician, admiring his handiwork.
He kneeled down, saying, "So had enough yet? Just say the word and I'll stop and lock you back up, nice and safe in your room again."
Mahaad didn't respond.
"You sure? No requests?" The thief smiled.
Mahaad said one word, "Die."
In one swift motion he yanked the knife out of his stomach and stabbed it into the thief's chest.
"Damn!" The thief winced then kicked the magician harshly in the face and examined the wound. It didn't hit anything fatal. No problems. "I think you're going to wish you didn't do that, magician." His smile had disappeared.
"I'm... Not. You... Will though..." the priest managed to sputter through the coughing fits.
Bakura examined the wound again, looking for trickery. The knife suddenly started burning, it was alight with flame! "No, damn! Damn!" He quickly removed the knife from the wound, but it was too late. His skin started to burn around the injury and flame quickly spread throughout his body.
He started frantically searching the room for more water, but he couldn't find any. The magical fire started to consume him, and the thief fell to the floor, unconscious, and soon after, dead.
The magician took little satisfaction in his work. He thought that it would be much more satisfying watching the thief burn, but all it did was make him feel hollow.
He knew he wouldn't last much longer, he was losing too much blood from all of his wounds. He knew he sealed his fate when he pulled that knife out in order to kill Bakura. It was worth it though to make sure nobody else would have to suffer at his hands again.
He felt a sense of calmness overcome him even through the pain. He had avenged Mana, and had killed Bakura. This was the end. He hoped he had done his Pharaoh proud. His Pharaoh was the best friend he could have asked for, yet he wished he could have done better for him.
He saw the world start to fade slowly, giving way to darkness. "Forgive me Pharaoh."