The explosion within the church had rocked the surrounding town, sending crowds stampeding in a blind panic. Cressida could spare no thought for the chaos outside, however, as she focused on the enemy within. This ground was supposed to be sanctified--how had a demon managed to enter?! Her blade had struck true, chopping deep into the demon's leg, but beyond a snarl of irritation, it seemed her attack had little effect. Turning away from the smashed altar, the demon's sulfuric gaze met hers, eyes narrowed. Despite the fury boiling within her, she had to suppress a shudder of fear at the sight. There wasn't a scrap of humanity or mercy in that gaze, only malice and cruel amusement. Swallowing her fear, she hefted her sword in readiness, prepared to stand her ground. Whatever this way, she knew she had no chance, but the idea of fleeing was anathema to her. With any luck, she could keep it here long enough for her companions to come--they were sure to have heard the explosion.<br/><br/>The sound of a blade sliding through flesh, however, followed by a sickening sound that she couldn't place, was enough to briefly break her focus. She glanced over just in time to see a man she didn't recognize standing beside the corpse of a monk, his blade buried in the man's chest. What shook her to her core, however, was not the casual impalement, but the way the monk's blood was streaming from his mouth and eyes, dark tendrils of red forming into a sphere that hovered at the stranger's shoulder. Aghast, her stomach lurching, Cressida looked to his face, only to catch sight of the crimson color of his irises.<br/><br/>Before she could act, however, that distraction would prove her undoing. Belial's monstrous hand came in from the side, backhanding her away as easily as a mortal man would swat a fly. The initial impact of flesh against fiery flesh drove the breath from her lungs, pain blooming in her side. She hit the wall of the church like a ragdoll, a dull<i>snap</i>audible as a couple of ribs cracked against the unyielding stone. Sparks danced in her eyes as her head slammed against the masonry, and she dropped to the ground without a sound. For a moment, she only lay there, stunned, fighting for breath through a collapsed ribcage and pierced lungs. She was dimly aware of a pulsating pain in her skull, a warmth pooling about her head as her cornsilk hair was stained red and sticky. Something told her she should stand and fight, but it felt as if her body was no longer obeying her brain.<br/><br/>Belial, now more concerned with the fallen demon before him than an uppity paladin, turned to face the newcomer, a snarl curling his lips. The archdemon crouched within the church, his shoulders brushing the rafters, but even in these confined quarters he had no worries about pulverizing the renegade demon.