As the Inquisitor's Blade sank deeply into the leader of the order's chest, a pained, guttural cry escaped his lips. The sensation of the blade tearing through his flesh and emerging from his back was agonizing, causing him to expel a mouthful of blood in his distress. Desperation coursed through him, and he released his grip on his own saber, opting to encase his hand with fiery curse power instead. With trembling fingers, he tried to grasp the blade that was embedded within him, but the searing holy energy emanating from it made it nearly impossible for him to maintain a hold.
Cardinal Rossi, his eyes alight with a mix of triumph and amusement, observed the leader's futile struggle. He taunted his adversary;