The divine armor scattered into a million motes of light, rapidly dissipating as it trailed away in Mirielle's wake like the tail of a comet. It had done its job, allowing her to close in to the marksmen unharmed, and between her aura and combat expertise... they're not getting another shot.

Even if the burning sensation was relatively muted on these misguided fools, the full-body searing pain should be crippling enough that most people could only drop and writhe. Should they still stand she'd aim to debilitate, steel gauntlet and greaves striking the hands and shins. Her sword was the distraction, flickering forward in seemingly fatal feint only to create gaps in their defenses.