Valcroy grinned, blood trailing down his face, giving his features an almost feral edge as he let go of the blade embedded in Cole's back. The stealth formation over him vanished the moment his attack connected. The sword, belonging to one of the corpses, began changing. Patches of dark decay crawled along its length, spreading outward like a sickness. The metal shook faintly, as if protesting its demise, while the edges crumbled into a fine, rust-like powder.
Cole staggered, his body twitching. His trembling hand reached for the blade that protruded grotesquely from his chest. His lips moved, forming words that never found sound, and his legs buckled as he staggered before hitting the floor hard, his aura flickering weakly around him like a sickly man in his last moments.
