That it's rare is the main cause of his concern. Five keeps his eyes on him for a long moment, on the blood that doesn't look like anything he's seen come out of someone before, and nods at his thanks. For all his faults, he's relatively reliable when it comes to necessary acts of violence. Even in this scrawny body.

"The wings look good." He doesn't know if he could always make them appear, but he wonders if he's been getting his powers back over time. They haven't caught up in a while, or he might have mentioned it. He'd ask more about them, but the ground rumbles again and Five blinks closer to avoid the remnants of a column tumbling into the arena. Straightening back up, the tar gushing between new cracks in the ground grab his attention.

"I ran into the same thing a few days ago. It sank ships that were full of it." Dark water has almost become more of a problem than the undead. Who, he notices, are still gathering nearby. "It's getting worse."