[ The dagger— misshapen, bent, utterly unsuited plunges through the crack, tearing through whats in its way like sharp teeth through soft flesh. It doesn't want to come back up. III's plunge goes through the floorboard with more strength than he should have.
The pain from the ritual Tron had done to give him power wracks his body momentarily. The knife is meant for drawing blood, pain, and III has offered it nothing. In return, pain recoils through his body— it will take it from him.
In other words: excellent job stabbing the floor, III. He's just plunged his hand through the floorboard up to his wrist. Not such a good job prying it up, though. ]
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The pain from the ritual Tron had done to give him power wracks his body momentarily. The knife is meant for drawing blood, pain, and III has offered it nothing. In return, pain recoils through his body— it will take it from him.
In other words: excellent job stabbing the floor, III. He's just plunged his hand through the floorboard up to his wrist. Not such a good job prying it up, though. ]