Igris stood motionless as the chokuto remained embedded in the wall behind Yugi, ichor still dripping from the ruined right eye slit of his helm. The crimson mane hung limp, the single remaining eye burning with unyielding focus as Miko rushed forward, her incantations ringing out and light lances raining down around him. The beams struck the stone and his armor, searing black marks across the crimson plating and cracking the already fractured breastplate further. He did not raise an arm to shield himself this time. He simply endured the barrage, boots planted firm, body absorbing each impact with the patience of stone. As Miko reached Yugi and began her healing pulses, Igris lowered his empty hands. The greatsword remained pinned to the floor by the mana webs, untouched. He took one slow step forward, then another—boots thudding heavily against the stone, cape settling behind him. He stopped three paces from the two Players, stance wide, gauntlets clenched at his sides. His eye fixed on Miko's hands as they worked to stabilize Yugi, then shifted to the impaled form pinned against the pillar. He tilted his helmeted head slightly, as though assessing the wound, the healing light, the determination in her voice. Igris raised his right gauntlet slowly. No telekinesis surged from it. Instead, he extended the hand palm-up toward them—open, empty, not striking. The gesture was not surrender, not mercy; it was acknowledgment. The knight stood there, silent, armored form radiating quiet menace, waiting for their next move as the lances continued to fall and the chamber trembled under the weight of their combined assault.
He did not attack.
He waited.
Meanwhile, blood dripped from Yugi's agape mouth almost as freely as it dripped from his chest. Miko's efforts to veil and heal him were not in vain ─ not entirely. He was kept alive by a thread, willpower and the restoration of lost blood keeping just enough in his veins to promote continuation, albeit anemic. 'FUUUUCK it hurts!' was all he could think for several moments. The pain dulled, the pain returned, the pain dulled again. A version of Yugi capable of rational thought at the time would have understood the periodic return of pain was the extension of his life, even if it was repeatedly followed by that life's shortening. That emergency notification in the System lowered from 18% to 10%, rose to 24%, lowered, rose, lowered, and so on. Difficult as it was to stay alive while hanging from a blade through the chest, it was being managed. 'God... damnit this fucking sucks massive dicks,' he thought further. A weak right hand rose, planting itself on the hilt of Yugi's chokuto. Ah... it was his own weapon, wasn't it? His eyes scanned the room slowly, vision blurring and correcting repeatedly. He saw Igris standing there, waiting. He saw Miko darting in, making every desperate attempt to keep him going. He saw... victory? Maybe he was delirious, or maybe he was onto something. Whatever the case, Yugi couldn't let his partner down either ─ nor could he do anything but trust her in a situation like this. As such, he banished that chokuto to Inventory once again, effectively removing it from a now-open hole from his chest through his back. He'd be falling immediately, but that was better than a hanging impalement.
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