The Agate couldn't possibly hope to move out of the way as the Labradorite's limb came slamming down upon its opposite wing, crushing it against the fragile ribcage of the cockatrice. There was probably more in the way of broken bones than surviving ones at this point-- at least, that's what the dizzying agony told Gatto as they struggled against the haze.

They had tasted death many times: this was what it tasted like. Sharp, coppery on the tongue, the numb of shock giving way to the thicker suffocation of nothingness pulling around at the edges of consciousness.

Gatto had survived so much, to die here and now... why, it seemed unthinkable. Their gemstone could save them: there was no worm to devour their corpse whole, and no grim reaper sweeping through to turn the stone to dust, as there was in the Hydra's unforgiving trials. Perhaps if they opened their maw and called forfeit, they could buy enough time to start the process... before the Labradorite shattered their life line.

"You win!" The Agate croaked, a ragged, gasping sound forced through punctured lungs, spitting up blood to even squeeze out a breath from punctured lungs. "I give, I yield, have mercy Labradorite... You win, you win... you bested a Champion, you..."

And then, with one last spasm of fractured wings and a jerk of the neck, the stone at the base of the wing the winner had nearly struck began to spread, desperately trying to save the Agate for another one of the Master's games.