As Irina staggers back from the blow, Lucien backs up himself and holsters his gun. Lucien falls to one knee before he lifts his head and glares at Irina. For a second she can see something beneath his reflective visor - the unbridled flame of pure hatred. He stabs his blade into his own stomach and twists. A thick and warm miasma begin to fill the area, bringing upon a scent of burning flesh and brimstone. Lucien's form grows two large avian wings, made of burnt-black flesh and soot-ridden feathers. A pair of colossal arms unfold from his lower middle back, seemingly made up of thousands of thrashing arms all amalgamated into two limbs. Two of the arms withdrew Lucien's .50 Desert Eagles while others picked up his 2-gauge shotgun. One even reached into his holster to draw his Mateba revolver. Whatever demon Lucien had become laughed in a thousand different tongues. It unfolded its wings as they were set alight with corrupted cobalt flame - as did his sword, who's flames only heightened and seemed to whisper with every crackling ember emitted from it. He took his grenade launcher out from his belt with his left hand. With the wings, the massive limbs and the flaming sword paired with the grenade launcher, he looked like some demented Angel of Eden. And then the miasma enveloped him, making him disappear from sight as the sound of crackling flames and cries of children surrounded Irina.