Most people never realized that the world they lived in was in fact unimaginably cruel, while the few who did realize it chose to keep their mouths shut. Speaking the truth was sometimes a cruel punishment, not only for the listener, but for the speaker as well.
But there was naturally a reason the truth was so fascinating. Not only in this matter, but in many others as well.
Konrad Curze raised his right hand. His long, pale arm was nothing like his brothers', neither powerful nor well-proportioned.
He was thin, almost sickly so, but that could not conceal the extraordinary nature he possessed as a Primarch—so we might as well say it.
He was beautiful.
And so the demon panted with excitement at his movement.
Its blasphemous body grew agitated along with its master's emotions, muscles swelling, its speed briefly transcending the limits allowed by the Material Realm. The disc-blade came chopping toward Konrad Curze like true lightning.
In that lethal instant, however, the Night Haunter merely watched it with indifference, and the contempt in his eyes only made the demon even happier.
The short blade and the disc-blade collided, creating a frenzy of percussion in just over ten seconds. The demon shrieked and spat venom, trying to wound him with it. But the darkness did not allow it. Once again, they blocked its attack and struck back.
The omnipresent darkness became a man-eating beast and swallowed it whole. Several seconds later, it spat out an alien skeleton, wound about with threads of blood. Four arms trembled without end, and the skull's jaw opened and closed, speaking a love no one could hear.
After only a few short seconds, a brand-new version of it once more stepped out of the darkness.
Its body was as smooth as before, its