The Demon God's body fixed its eyes on Wayne: "As for you, your life is fragile; in your decrepit state, do you still have the strength to fight?"
Martia was horrified, touching her face as she backed away repeatedly, fearing she would become as aged as Wayne.
"False."
Wayne spoke calmly. Time had deposited authority on him, and there was an undeniable force in his aged voice.
"False?!"
"This is not my true appearance, never has been..."
Wayne raised a hand to his face, pinching the wrinkles and pulling them until they stretched like silk.
A mass of skin was pulled off by him, turning into pale sludge in his hand, and he casually tossed it away like trash to the ground.
Under the envious gaze of astonishment, Wayne's aged appearance rejuvenated, and then his facial features blurred until they disappeared.
In their place was a Pale Knight, covered in folds, as if wrapped in a sickly armor.
