His vision started to normalize just in time to see the boy slump to the ground with a hole in his gut.
Letho's eyes were still far from clear; a combination of instinct and reflexes had made his eyes squint when the old man conjured the flare, but not nearly fast enough to cancel out its effect. So now the world was covered by a hazy whitish film that blurred the edges of everything that stood within twenty paces of him and erased everything past that mark. But even in such a debilitated state, he could see the fate that befell the green swordsman. Hell, he could even smell it. The gruesome sight of a torn abdomen was accompanied by a sickly sweet scent of burning flesh, as if someone forgot the world's worst pot-roast in the oven. The light in the lad's golden eyes went out quickly, as unceremoniously as if somebody just blew out a candle. There was nothing Letho's healing powers could do; the wound was just too severe, bringing death in a matter of seconds.
“You did good, kid,” Letho said. Still on his knees, the Marshal risked a second to close the eyes of his departed ally, then remembered. “Ulysses.” The boy said his name was Ulysses, just moments before he took a hit that surely would've been the end of Letho's campaign in the Cell. “I will see you on the other side.”
His back still ached and throbbed as if someone was pouring liquid fire into his open wound, but he made his left work despite the pain, prying his adamantine sword from Ulysses' fingers. And as he rose, a vibrant white aura exploded around him, pearly flames enveloping his husky figure completely. Letho's muscles bulged and expanded, first straining the straps that held his armor together to their limit, then snapping them and forcing the cuirass and the spaulders off his frame. The metamorphosis was completed by erasing his irises, painting his eyes bright white. Unhinged might pulsed throughout his entire body like a second heart, begging to be unleashed. But it was a sword that cut both ways; the expansion and strengthening of his muscles also tore the gash in his back even further, magnifying both the pain and the bleeding. He wouldn't be able to sustain his Righteous Might for long, he knew.
“You,” he turned to the archer who still seemed to be struggling with the effects of the blinding flash. With most of his armor either blown off or torn off, and with his face grimy and visibly jaded from the blood loss and the strain, and with a six-foot gunblade held in one hand and his trusty bastard sword in his right, Letho was far from easy on the eyes. “Retreat to your left,” he directed him along the line of the fence and towards a relatively vacant portion of the arena. “And cover me if you get a chance.”
And with that said, he was off like a bullet from a gun. The muscle growth quadrupled his speed easily and turned his every attack into a possible death blow, so when he swept down towards his opponents, he moved like a gale, a tornado of blades with a brilliant white light in the eye. He thundered past the spot where his wolves (well, wolf, since the alpha seemed to be reduced to a pile of smoldering fur and flesh) fought the infernal apparitions that the resistant mage had conjured, sweeping both of his blades sideways at the monstrosities without as much as a pause in his sprint. His deadly charge led him past the wobbly one-eyed man next, the Marshal's bastard sword making a slash aimed to sever the leg at the groin as he zoomed past. He skidded to a halt a couple of paces from the musician, spun and dropped to one knee and fired a shot towards the lesser of the two wizards. And even as the lead slug left the barrel of his six-foot weapon, he was on the move again. This time he had his sights set on vengeance, vengeance for the boy named Ulysses who came to his aid when most sought a way to bring him down.
Letho bore down on the pyromancer with a flurry of blows, his blades swung in sweeping arcs easily powerful enough to cleave a man in half. He did this at full speed, his momentum aimed to push forwards until he either killed the man or knocked him down into the dirt. And if this occurred, he was more then ready to trade one of his weapons for a chance to crush the wizard's face with his bare hands.
Out of Character:
Used Righteous Might (speed x 4, strength x...a lot), took a swing at the apparitions, Arsene, shot at Atzar and came at Chris like a freight train. I apologize if this is a bit much, but I do have a lot of stuff coming at me at the same time and I'd already be dead if I dealt with it one at a time. ;) If anybody has any complaints, I'm more than happy to oblige and edit accordingly, though.