Phobos continued trudging across the wasteland, each step leaving crystallized blood in his wake. He could feel his strength leaving him. That fight took everything he had and then some, but he did it. He won. And now... he's spent...

Phobos made one final effort to push himself, and his blood obeyed. A throne made of bloody crystals appeared in front of him and with a final grunt, he collapses onto it.

"Death... Is this finally it...? It's... not as bad as I thought..."

And as his vision darkens, a cold, metallic hand clasped his shoulder.

"Stand strong. You are not done yet."