The triple onslaught struck from three directions at the speed of snapped sinew.
Above, the forty-five-ton bulk of the Corpse Demiurge blocked out the fiery glow of the ceiling. Its twin spiked fists dropped like falling watchtowers.
Ahead, the Taboo Sovereign’s volley of black seal-script curses tore across the void, leaving trails of dissolved air and curdled light in their wake.
From the left, the Specter Primarch’s soul-rending shriek arrived as a wall of ice-cold frost, freezing the underground air into jagged black needles.
In the old days of Black Water County, any one of these attacks would have reduced an apprentice mortician to a puddle of frostbitten grease.
A mortal skull couldn’t withstand ten thousand pounds of falling demon bone.
Mortal nerves couldn’t endure a sound shriek that boiled the brain inside its casing.
And mortal flesh could never resist a taboo decree that commanded tendons to unweave themselves.
