In his hand was a massive scepter constructed from countless decaying limbs.
His face and limbs were covered with large patches of grotesque scale armor, giving him a humanoid appearance while being completely different at the same time.
The holy fire in the sky was embraced by him with his bare flesh.
The sacred flames scorched his body, leaving a massive concave pit behind him, seemingly about to pierce through his body.
"The joy of life lies in feeling vitality, marvelous." Despite enduring such grievous wounds, the grotesque figure seemed entirely devoid of pain, even indulging in it.
A multitude of white maggots emerged from his wounds, as if weaving the injuries, sealing them shut.
Blake and the others had already started attacking the blood pool on the opposite side.
Especially the dwarves, their eyes widened in fury.
As warriors, they felt the rage, and the rage transformed into power.
The bloody scent and such ritual were all too familiar to them.
