It will take more than the likes of them to injure me.

[He says it haughtily, sluicing the last of the blood from his feathers and fanning out his wings in the sun to dry more quickly. Annoying. He never had to worry about such things when his 'feathers' were composed of blades alone, though perhaps it's less annoying than six wings.]

And most of you seem to be blessed with either fighting prowess, or the monstrous strength to otherwise fight for your lives.

[Which is a longwinded way of saying he assumes Serph isn't injured, either.]