The skill didn't make Belialthorn heavy, it was the air that surrounded him that was heavy as if was wearing a chainmail and it stalled his movements, almost making him stumble.
But Belialthorn was of far higher ranks than them, something like that was too weak to matter to him. He twisted sharply, raising himself on his toes, and brought his hand down on the closest Inquisitor.
His opened palm struck him on the neck and the bone cracked like a twig, turning the head at an angle but he didn't watch the dark-clothed man fall because Belialthorn was already on the second one like a hungry wolf.
He caught the Inquisitor's hand and drew him closer then with his other hand on his shoulder, Belialthorn ripped it clean off. He...no, she screamed as blood splurged and he took her out of her misery by shoving her ripped-off arm into her skull.