Prometheus' Flame (7, 5k)

From Ezekiel's perspective, he could see every detail of the Great Unclean One with terrible clarity—frankly, its appearance made the act of observing the enemy an agony.

The Third Company Captain of the Crimson Blades could see its swollen pure-white skin, the maggots lazily moving in the sores atop its head, its opened belly, its writhing intestines, and the boiling yellow-brown fluid within.

He nearly vomited.

And yet its voice sounded warm and delighted.

"Ever since we parted last time, I've been missing you, my friend!"

It split its mouth into a grin, its black gums and broken teeth hideous in that gaping maw. But Ezekiel saw more. His gaze pierced straight through that wicked flesh and glimpsed the ominous truth hidden behind Nergus's wide-open mouth.

An image flashed past. A scene appeared before the Third Company Captain's eyes: a burning garden.

Ezekiel swore to The Emperor that he would rather be blind and deaf right now. His sanity was on the verge of being destroyed by this thing—the very existence of the Great Unclean One was a blasphemy against reality. Even if it only stood there and did nothing, people would go mad.

No one could endure such a being appearing before their eyes.

Unless their will could surpass everything.

Klan Samps just happened to be one of them.

He remained unmoved by Nergus's call, that gloomy, fully enclosed bat-helmet cold and ominous, the Respirator Grille making even his voice sound like the whispers of the dead. He gave no answer and made no reaction.

Silence could mock people—sometimes not only people.

Nergus's enthusiasm did not receive the response it deserved, and its face fell.

This demon actually sighed in an extremely human way and said in a tone of genuine disappointment, "You truly chill my heart, my friend.