Grim Pilgrim

Beware of those fanatics, the monsters I caught a glimpse of on the trails of Hattusili.
Their grimy daggers are smeared with foul blood, and their unsteady eyes reflect only a void.
They are undoubtedly the unhallowed spawn of golden blood and dark mist, devoid of sanity since birth.
Otherwise, how could they assemble in crowds, sacrificing living beings to the realm of death?
They falsely declare that the mortal realm has turned into a hellscape, dooming all to a life of unhappiness from the moment of birth.
Our true sanctuary lies only in the land where flowers bloom at the end of the west wind.
When the last living being ceased to exist in this world, all souls will find within the divine realm of death
A return to the endless Golden Age.
I have no clue where they are now.
Perhaps they've already set sail on their voyage to the nether realm.