Virgil isn't entirely surprised that Isopia is able to dodge his attack. He is no longer a young soldier, but even more relevant, he has never attacked using an enchanted weapon before. The sword-wielding demon is tethered to his thoughts somehow and obeys his command, and yet it isn't an extension of himself. Not really. It belongs in a world other than this one - and it is precisely that world that Virgil wishes to avoid. Part of the stallion feels rather sick at the thought of even using the weapon, almost as if it could further defile his soul and make his ascension to heaven that much harder. But Virgil is willing to take that risk, because what he fears even more, is Isopia leaving him here alone.

If he engages her in combat, he irrationally assumes that she will be forced to stay.

He isn't right of course, but it seems to be working so far, and so he continues.

Not for the first time this battle, Virgil's left shoulder takes the brunt of Isopia's attack. However now that it has been repeated, the surge of pain feels overwhelming and amplified far past the point of what any normal attack should have been capable of. The muscles of his shoulder feel stretched and torn (in fact they are), and despite the greyish blobby colour of his coat, immediate bruising can be seen as blood vessels are ruptured by her stones. The stallion does not try to place any weight on his leg, but part of him is curious to know if anything is broken. Surely something must be torn by now - the agonizing wall of pain is evidence of that - but he wants to know the extent of it. He wants to know just how close he is to reaching a state of brokenness that his mind cannot recover from. Just how badly will she have to assault him before he dies? What needs to break, in order for his life to slip away?

Through the haze of pain Virgil smiles slightly, feel his strength sap away. Isopia's attack had been harder, as he had intended. All was well then. Death was coming. 

Virgil wheezed as if he was about to say something, but then seemed to think better of it, merely shaking his head in Isopia's direction. Blood trickled down his left shoulder, wrapping around his knee and dropping to the nearly black stones beneath. The light had fallen so much that it was hard to make out the blood, but he could smell it well enough. Briefly, Virgil wondered if the demigoddess' dragon might be invigorated by the scent as well.   

"Will your ... dragon no-... -not join us?" Virgil panted, looking towards Isopia, trying to smile but likely not really doing much of anything. With a grunt, Virgil shifted as he used his mind to move the demon, which swung the sword clumsily; a clear indication of the stallion's waning energy.

The blade had no real target, for Virgil's eyes had gone blurry with the effort and he was finding it hard to focus. Would she move again? Probably. It didn't matter. Just so long as her attacks continued coming.