Braydon Neal's hands were stained crimson with blood, a testament to his inherent ruthlessness rather than any innate goodness.
Under the relentless assault of pain, the dormant killing intent buried deep within him surged to the surface.
For an entire day, the potent effects of the Body Tempering Pill wracked Braydon's body, transforming him into a veritable figure of gore.
Blood coated his body, merging with his clothes to create a gruesome tableau.
Even as night fell, he remained curled on the ground, his movements slow and deliberate.
With a crackling sound, the dried blood scabs that encased him split open, melding with his garments.
Rising to his feet, Braydon shed his bloodied exterior, revealing skin aglow with an ethereal light.
The rigorous baptism of the Body Tempering Pill had left his physique invigorated and radiant.
He stretched his body and drew a sword from his waist pouch.
