Roughly an hour passed.
Or didn't.
Liam lost track of time.
Liam resembled a grim, living piece of art.
Symmetrical, rectangular black lines ran across his body, starting from his abdomen, reaching his chest and spreading out towards his spine, hip and deltoids in harmonious, mesmerizing patterns.
Some tattoos were squarish, some were linear and sharp, and the others were completely blacked out with Inkshadow.
A single, black line ran from the back of his upper arm, down his elbow, across his forearm and to the side of his hand.
It didn't conflict with his natural etchings that faintly ran across his skin.
In fact, Elder Jax had combined the two.
At this point, Liam really questioned how much pain a human being can experience before losing his mind.
The biggest problem wasn't his physical pain.
Liam could handle that.
Perhaps better than anyone else his age and above.
