Before you stood a bloodied adeptus, polearm in hand. His back turned to you, the rain slowly washing the blood off of his skin as he glanced over his shoulder toward you. "Humans..." he hissed, placing a hand on his mask. "...utterly weak." The mask disintegrated.

The man was about to teleport away, although he heard your cries. He heaved a sigh, turning to face you. "Stop crying."

How could you not cry? You just witnessed him single-handedly obliterate a multitude of hilichurls.