His cold, dark fingers clutched the handle of the blade as if it was salvation itself.
He made quick work of the six remaining ghouls, his blade screaming with the power of countless tortured souls. It cut through the very fabric of existence, yet these creatures felt the need to fight on. Daesalliss offered no pity.
His breath became labored as the battle ended. The black lightning began to stop crackling around his body and his sword, seemingly seeping back into the orb that was attached to his chest. Unexpectedly, the souls that inhabited the grotesque bodies of the ghouls began to float towards him, more specifically, his orb. It glistened madly in hues of dark lavender in the night, anticipating it's new arrivals.
Daesalliss tried his best to will them away, to close up the armor around the orb, but the nether reached out once again to try to stifle his will. Yet again he found himself fighting with his sorrow and anger, but with his many years of experience, he finally fought it off. The souls dissipated into the wind, returning to their foul place of "birth."
Once the eldritch diablerie finally settled down around him, he set his eyes on the nightmare that was as well staring back at him. He was slightly hypnotized by its gaze, struggling to even move within its glowing azure orbs.
He walked toward the nightmare and attempted to stroke it's shadowy mane only to find it was as translucent as it appeared, it's very essence chilling him to the very core of his existence.
He knew not what to make of this anomaly. Had this creature, so simple and pure, done something as horrific as he had in his life? In what way did it invite the essence of the Twisting Nether? Struggling to find a conclusion, he found nothing but confusion. He invited the creature to dwell within him, promising he would call it out when necessary. Daesalliss decided it was worthy of deliberation, so he kept it as it was.