The flagship of the Night Lords, the Gloriana-class Battleship Nightfall.
Klosh, lord of the Night Bat Council, saw a shadow pass through his black eyes.
The White Face, famed throughout the Legion for his sickly pallor, turned even paler.
His black eyes blazed as he focused on that fleeting vision of Revelation.
Another shadow whistled through his mind.
Klosh suddenly rolled forward as the shadow silently thrust down.
He drew his Bolt Pistol and looked toward the shadow growing out of the shadows.
The man wore black armor, with a red claw painted on his left pauldron.
"Gillin?"
Nerath Gillin stepped down the stairs, staring at the prey before him.
As he spoke, his body melted like a candle, turning into pure, viscous flesh.
Klosh raised his hand toward the rapidly spreading flesh and repeatedly pulled the trigger.
The deck exploded, sending debris flying everywhere.
That mass of flesh strangely burrowed into the body of a nearby mortal.
Without the slightest hesitation, Klosh swung his gun around.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
More than a dozen mortal officers exploded into a cloud of blood mist.
Clumps of flesh transformed into a storm and swept toward Klosh. The deck they passed over looked as though it had gone unmaintained for centuries, covered in rust.
Is Nerath a Psyker?
Shadows, flesh... his abilities are too bizarre.
Klosh drew his blade and slashed at the thick mass of blood with a shriek.
Before the gleaming blade could touch the flesh, it suddenly swelled and exploded.
Bang!
The flesh splattered against the midnight-blue armor, and the Terminator staggered unsteadily.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Klosh kept swinging his blade, but the unceasing Flesh Bombs blasted him back again and again.
His back silently struck the wall, and a chill ran down Klosh's spine.
A shadow quietly rose, and