A Dying Hope

Before the pain registered, it pierced through and vaporised muscles and bones before it left from Coyle's back.

"ARGH!" Coyle's jaws snapped open as a scalding agony crashed on his nerves. Yet Adam was far from over. 

He gripped the beam like a pommel as the plasma broadened. Like a ravenous devil, it engulfed more flesh and organs until it reshaped itself into a blazing falchion.

"Look, your poison is ravaging me, too." He raised his dark right arm, the toxic fumes swirling out of the crevices and teeth marks. "So, be a man and don't scream in my ears."

Coyle roared louder. How could he endure this feeling? And how did Adam not claw at his neck and writhe in agony like a worm? Neurotoxins, hemotoxins, and cytotoxins; his true poison melded them all in an acidic cocktail no one could survive. So, how could he stand, much less speak, with such a chilling tone?