The night was thick with a tight atmosphere, like a suffocating shroud that wrapped itself around the ruined city that fell just in a few days.
Lyerin watched, with a steady breath, as the soldier's body convulsed violently in his grasp.
The transformation was beginning, and Lyerin's gaze narrowed, focusing on the grotesque spectacle before him.
The soldier's flesh quivered, as if something deep inside was pushing, struggling to break free.
With a sickening crack, his ribs began to collapse inward, the bones bending and snapping under some unseen force.
Pop! Pop!
The sounds of ligaments tearing, muscles contracting, filled the air, echoing against the silent ruins.
Lyerin could hear every visceral detail, the symphony of destruction unfolding within the soldier's body.
The man's face twisted in agony, his eyes bulging as blood vessels burst beneath his skin, painting his face in a network of crimson lines.
