"Yeah, yeah," Ludwig said, voice rough inside Noctivex's helm. "Got anything else you can say besides futile this, futile that?"
Sloth looked at him.
For a long moment, the Sin did not answer. He simply stood in the ruin of the blast, half-charred and leaking blue blood across the ice. The left side of his body had been burned down to bone in places, and what remained of his arm hung with strips of blackened flesh that should have made any living creature scream. One side of his head was broken open, pale material and blue fluid sliding down his neck and chest in slow lines.
He looked down at himself with no particular interest.
Not shock. Not anger. Not even pain.
He did not seem to have the will to care that his body had been ruined. Damage was another demand. Pain was another effort. Concern was a motion of the mind, and Sloth seemed unwilling to spare even that much for himself.
"We seem to have come too hastily," Sloth said.
