He'd take that as an answer. A good one, if incomplete and indirect. Hyperion considered it pathetic to go down without a fight. The girl had something in her that made her worthy of his knife. She'd be remembered for it when she fell for the last time, he decided.

It was a promise.

"I know you will."

He stood up again, dropping the spear by his side, and walked towards her, taking his knife out of his pocket.