"That's it!" Caman also roared.
Winters's vision went dark, and he collapsed stiffly to the ground.
In a daze, he heard Caman chanting, "[Ancient Language] O my Lord, forgive us our sins, lest we fall into the fires of Hellfire..."
Struggling, Winters got up and walked over to the operating table.
He saw Caman clutching the holy emblem tightly, reciting the scripture in a trembling voice, his face deathly pale.
He witnessed Andre's wounds healing at a rate visible to the naked eye, with new flesh budding where muscle had been torn by lead and broken skin gradually knitting together.
"I understand it all now, no wonder you know medicine, no wonder you are skilled in surgery." Winters's head buzzed, "You... you're a Divine Arts practitioner!"
Caman looked exceedingly tired, and he wrapped Andre's healed wound with a bloodied gauze, "Did I ever say I was not?"