John followed up on his advantage, spinning around in a whirlwind of deadly movements. The dagger, which seemed to have come out of nowhere, appeared at John's right side.
Michael quickly raised both of his arms above his face, trying his best to defend himself from the incoming attacks. His efforts, however, were futile.
One by one, John's dagger slashed against Michael's forearms, carving deep wounds into the man's skin. Blood sprayed from his wounds, staining the ground red as he stumbled backward in agony, his arms held tight against his face to staunch the bleeding.
"Damn you," Michael hissed between gritted teeth as he clutched at his wounds in an attempt to stop them from bleeding further.
Michael clicked his tongue and slammed his fist into the ground.
The ground shook, sending a wave of tremors shooting out in every direction and knocking his enemies and allies out of balance.