Dust twists its form around the shadow's attack, before seizing its absolute power over shadows to stop the shade from moving. It catches Ark's hand, and while Dust still goes back a little, it manages to not fall over and toss Ark backwards and towards Crimson. "C'mon ya gotta show a little more tact than making your every attack really obvious!"

"Good point." And it's just then when Ark stabs dust in the head from behind. The thing that Dust threw away melts into shadow, and the shadow that Dust stopped vanishes into mist. "I don't know if you can die, but assuming you can't, I should probably arrest you now, or something. At least, assuming you aren't going to reveal you were fake and leap out of the shadows from behind me. Speaking of which..." Ark lifts a finger, and all of the shadows in the area they were fighting warp off the surfaces they were on, and coalesce into an orb on his finger. "Nice hit a while back though. My regeneration is still working pretty hard on that." Ark coughs a bit.

As Crimson laid on the ground, blood began to evapotare off his back and the knives began to melt into makeshift bandages.  Soon Crimson pushed himself up and grabbed his Limiter and put it back on, pulling at the forearm, revealing a small vial full of a dense red liquid and glowed a blood red.  Crimson pushed it out and took out an empty vial and replaced it and pushed his arm back together as it automatically locked into place.  He tested out his Limiter and grabbed the now-full vial and shoved it into his coat and with hate filled eyes, drew his sword and looked at Ark and Dust in rage.  "You're not going to enjoy hell are you?" he said. 

Crimson grumbled at the notion of not being able to rip this thing apart.  "Yeah, actually, I know I haven't.  Different world and different materials react.  Clearly my Steel isn't doing squat to you.  And what the hell is draining my power might I ask?  It's rude to be a vampire without me seeing them...." Crimson realized how stupid that sounded since vampires are dead, therefore carry a weak aura.  "Alright maybe you're right, but what the hell do you think you're doing?!" 

"Winning." Dust stabs into Crimson with its sharp claws, piercing his skin and making Crimson feel cold, maybe for the first time in his life. I wouldn't know, I didn't read his backstory. And just to be rude, a part of Dust stretches back to Ark and attempts to smack the cube out of his hands. The wounds Dust had suffered are disappearing quicker than before, the only indication being that its vile ichor has stopped falling from everywhere except its face.

Ark slaps the part away, and continues fiddling with his cube.

Crimson looks at Dust and grins wickedly.  "I don't fight children like you." 

"Ember?  That's an odd name to describe a Kyng." 

"And what's your name then?" 

"You're strong.  I like that.  But your shadow magic isn't working on me.  For with every shadow is a light.  Thus we cancel out." 

Crimson grimaced but didn't let a single yelp of pain come from his mouth.  Every time he winced in pain, a small solar-flare would protrude from the wounds, in an attempt to burn away the blades and claws.  

Ark is now reading a newspaper, and doing the crossword. He's also set up a side table next to himself with a pitcher of raspberry lemonade. Maybe he's waiting for something.

Dust suddenly lets go of Crimson, by tossing him to the ground. "You're barely worth the trouble it'd be to eat your soul." Dust steps onto Crimson's midsection, putting its strength in the motion. Shadows reach and grasp to restrain him.