Jay gazed at the being on the throne; it was old, wrinkled and seemed like it was on the verge of decaying.
Parts of its skin were black but somehow seemed to retain its life - of course, its life force was driven by intense hate as well as all the strange chemicals and magic surrounding its chair.
“Is this a hexamist?” Jay raised a brow, he couldn’t be sure.
Whatever it was, it was nothing like the soldiers or the lab experiments, there was not a single piece of the black stone on its body. It seemed that this one didn’t go through with the altar conversion ritual.
Despite living on somehow, it was still filled with just as much hate as when it sat down, its face locked in a constant grimace of bitter anger.
Thankfully there was a trespasser to let out some anger onto - Jay.
The decrepit old thing in the throne slowly lifted its head, gazing at Jay.
Jay analysed it as soon as he made eye contact. Surely something on such an impressive throne would be strong, right?