At the time the two cultists burst in, Cronic's coat was set aside onto a chair, the vest he was wearing underneath in plain view, and he'd only just applied the potion that would treat the burn onto his arm. Unluckily for them, Cronic had managed to somehow hear them, The Thu'um having caught his attention, and the tell tale sign of magic flaring up in his hands, since he left his sword back at Odd Jobs.

"Bone Masks, Robes. Arcadia, take cover behind the counter." Cronic said, as he looked at the cultists, having a shock based spell ready to be cast in his right hand, and a ward on standby in the other. Not wasting any time, Cronic unleashed a burst of lightning at the cultist closest to him, which would quickly arc to his companion, and likely catch both off guard. Not stopping to pick up his coat while the two cultists were reeling from the spell, he threw up his ward to block any spells they might throw at him, and charged towards them, slamming his shoulder into the closest cultists and knocking them outside once he'd closed the gap.

"Can't even treat a burn wound without someone trying to kill me. You picked the wrong person to piss off." Cronic said, the electricity in his right hand being promptly replaced by fire, and his face reflected his mood; Extremely annoyed.