The Cosmic Inquisitor

I am the great thinker, the infallible speaker of our decimation, the prophet of Armageddon.
The defilement of mankind's innocence is like all others' before it withers.
Many before you have drowned in the abyss of ignorance and lies.

Walking through ash and fire towards a casket of the transformed, my skin is peeling, my eyesight fading.

My body has contorted before the monument of our sins.
Our bodies will be brought forth to behold the great icon of angels holding scabbards to our throats.

I tremble not, nor plead mercy from such punishable guilt, for I will gladly take my reward in the realm of brimstone and silt.
This deed shall not be undone.
Our armor will be crafted from your tissue.

My body has contorted, but still I tremble not, nor plead mercy from such a punishable guilt, for I will gladly take my reward in the realm of brimstone and silt.

The Didact has faced legions of the most evil of masses and discovered the secret of humanity for himself.

In the end everything dies.
There's no escape, no matter how hard you try.
The beauty of death.
Essence transcending flesh escaping entombment, released in its last breath.
Organic convergence.
The human form reshaped to resemble my image.
They are reborn.
A creature born into bondage.

Infesting my delighted mind is the lullaby of mankind's own demise.
Our plague leaves you scarred.
Oh, the horror for what we have done!
Embrace the screaming ambiance of the wretched choir.
We have murdered your fathers, and their blood blankets our attire.

The ones we trust encircle us.
Led by Faber he snatches me for himself, then jettisons me away.