His ears were ringing. The knight could hear little beyond his own laboured breathing. He felt cold. Reaching down, he felt the hilt of the sword driven into his abdomen. He growled in gradually growing pain as he pulled at it, determined to rid himself of the cursed blade. With a final grunt of effort, he yanked out the black sword and felt blood running through the hole in his golden armour. His awareness restored by the sensation, his vision and hearing cleared. Looking forwards, he could see his assailant. His opponent. The imposing figure, clad in pure black armour, had his back to him, focusing his power against someone else. Beneath his helmet, the knight's eyes widened. She stood alone against the dark one. The one he vowed to defend with his life now fought desperately against the very manifestation of malice and cruelty. The knight knelt, almost falling, and took up his sword. First, he staggered towards his enemy. Then he walked. Now he ran. Shouting with the effort, he reared back and pushed his blade forwards, using his momentum to drive it through the armoured back of his quarry. He heard the most horrific noise. A deep roar like an enraged monster. A high-pitched, pained shriek. An enraged snarl. He heard each of these things at once echoing from his wounded quarry. The Phantom King swung around whacked his fist against the knight's face, shattering his helmet and sending him flying backwards as he pulled the Sword back. The horrible howling of the wounded monster continued. With the sword removed, the wound burned within his blackened form. Rather than blood, there was only a blue light that seemingly melted through the metallic plating. The knight could not move. His entire body felt heavy. Merely raising his head enough to look ahead of him took every ounce of strength left within him. A brilliant golden light erupted behind the Phantom King, sending him reeling. Returning his attention to its source, he raised a hand and fired a stream of what looked like black fire from his palm. This stream was quickly extinguished by the light and he was pushed backwards by it. As the Knight watched, the Phantom King seemed to evaporate in the light he struggled against, his form dissolving into black flames. Without a sound, he was gone. The knight's head fell back as he succumbed to exhaustion. He felt something lifting his head. Barely managing to open his eyes, he saw her kneeling above him. Her white dress was stained and torn, her long golden hair was bedraggled, and her face was tired and lined with tears. The knight smiled weakly, then he was gone.