Nyth sprints up the trash slope at an impossible speed using the air boost soles on his boots that allow him to run on thin air. Each step boosts him forward like a bullet, and he clears the slope in seconds, leaping back up into the tunnel and coming down like a shadow in the midst of thirty armed Crispers.
Warrior Princes were walking weapons, similar to the Emperor's near-mythical Angels of Death but far more lethal. The Noble Bonds were the height of Satimor military technology, making one warrior capable of fighting armies on nearly any battlefield. So, when Nyth told Aza to give him the skills and weapons to avenge Rash, the Bond was more than happy to comply. Put the thirty years of training each Warrior Prince received before earning their Bonds into his mind within thirty seconds and then armed him with the same wet-wired bioweapon system that taught even the soulless Necron the meaning of fear. Now, in the shadows of Casteradon's underhive over sixty million years later, that terror is off the leash.
Nyth launched forward with the nano claws on the tips of his gloved fingers that were sharp enough to carve through diamond paper extending. They carve through armor, cloth, flesh, and bone-like air as he moves through the Crispers in a flash. He carved half of them to pieces before his fast victim's body even caught up with the fact that it had been gutted and sectioned. They are moving, talking, and laughing one day and piles of steaming meat the next. The other half of the group stares in silent horror, their brains not able to process what just happened as their flashlights illuminate the carnage.
From the shadows, Nyth begins to snatch them into the darkness one by one, taking his time with them so that their screams drive the terror even deeper. Their friends open fire with las and bolt pistols, filling the tunnel with hot fury. It doesn't save them. Nyth dances through the shadows, his laughter pumping from the micro speakers of his suit as he moves through the shots like a ghost and snatches them one by one into his world, where they are nothing but meat. When there are only five left, they run. Not understanding there is no escape from this.
From the shadows, Nyth keeps up with them with the ease of a cat hunting turtles. He steps out in front of them wearing a sadistic smile as he walks across the tunnel like he is doomg nothing more than taking a stroll. One of them raises a bolt pistol, and Nyth raises a hand, sending a completely invisible Shift Pulse into his chest. It leaves no visible wound in the man's body as it teleports his heart from his chest. The man's eyes go as a sharp pain radiates through his chest, and he finds himself looking at his heart in Nyth's hand. Blood pours from his mouth before his brain catches up with the fact that he is dead, and he collapses face-first. Nyth, still smiling, tosses the heart to one of his shocked friends, causing them all to start screaming as he disappears into the shadows.
"What," says Nyth from the shadows, "Are you not having fun anymore? Are you not entertained? That won't do. I'll tell you what I will do. I will give you an hour's headstart. Run to your friends and tell them I am coming. Run to your mamas and beg them to save you. Run to the Emperor and beg for his protection."
He appears right behind them, smiling nightmare in endless black and bloody red, "Let's see if you can outrun Death. One Throne of Terra. Two Throne of Terra. Three Throne of Terra."
They run for their lives, forgetting about their weapons and losing all control of their bladders and bowels. Nyth continues to count as he strolls behind them.