The Seven Knights were not like the rest of humankind—they were nightmares that walked on two legs. Centaurus gathered them three thousand years ago, not merely for their strength, but because their bodies and souls bore a deformity that made them closer to monsters than to men. They were immortal, knowing no death, and they possessed abilities that defied the laws of the world: summoning spirits, opening gateways between realms, commanding the elements, and even conjuring weapons out of nothingness.
Their forms alone were enough to sow terror:
The First (Man): A giant, his chest bones protruding outward like natural armor, his skin covered in glowing red fissures that resembled lava, and his eyes utterly white, without pupils. His voice was like the beating of war drums; every step he took shook the earth.
The Second (Man): Short in stature, yet his head was abnormally huge, as if his brain were overflowing his skull. He had six eyes that moved ceaselessly in different directions, and a smile slit up to the middle of his cheek. His fingers were unnaturally long—it is said they were made to tear out the souls of his enemies before their bodies.
The Third (Man): Emaciated to a terrifying degree, his bones jutting beneath cracked, ash-grey skin. Half his face was covered by a rusted metal mask fused to the flesh. He dragged long iron chains behind him that slithered and writhed like living serpents.
The Fourth (Woman): Beautiful in her upper half, deformed in her lower half. From the waist down, her body was transformed into a mass of writhing flesh that resembled rotting tree roots. Her eyes were a bewitching emerald, but she used her beauty as a mask to conceal her true horror.
The Fifth (Woman): Her body was fissured as though sculpted from shattered black glass, and between the cracks gleamed a cold blue light. Her features were symmetrical but utterly devoid of human expression, like a porcelain doll. When she moved, the sound of breaking glass followed.
The Sixth (Woman): Impossibly tall, her white hair cascading all the way to her feet, yet her face had no eyes and no nose—only a mouth stretching from ear to ear. Her fingers ended in claws, and she laughed without pause, a maddening laugh that robbed the enemy of reason.
The Seventh (Woman): A fusion of allure and deformity. Her body was exquisitely sculpted, but from her back extended torn leathery wings from which black, pulsating veins emerged. Her eyes were red, and she breathed as though a fire raged inside her chest.
Together, they were the image of pure chaos—seven distinct forms of a curse, converging in blind loyalty to Centaurus.
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