With a crisp snap, a thunderous roar followed immediately.
Blood plasma splattered through the gaps between fingers, shooting up several tens of meters into the air.
"Got... it wrong..." A choked voice rose from the broken flesh, sounding so desperate, "Wrong... it's not me... it's... it is..."
Boom!
The giant hand struck down again, directed at the Priest, without a hint of mercy.
Then another blow, and yet another!
Got it wrong? What's been mistaken?
Could I even make a mistake?!
It's damn you I'm striking!
The roaring continued incessantly, the relentless crushing went on until Priest's last shred of residual spirit had dissolved into nothingness, never to be seen again, then the blood-stained giant hand reluctantly dissipated.
The Bone Wheel flicked, and a glob of Mutated Spirit that resembled thick phlegm spat upon the remnants of the Priest.
So you call yourselves the Evil Cult, huh?
