There were no lips, no eyelids, no nose—just a grotesque, skull-like visage.
Teeth were permanently bared in a rictus grin, the eyes sunken deep into sockets framed by cords of exposed tendon.
The cheek muscles stood out in raw prominence, every twitch of his snarl tugging those red fibers like a puppet's strings.
The overall look was raw, glossy, and wet, as though he'd been freshly flayed—every layer exposed—making him both monstrous and, in a disturbing way, eerily human in shape.
Gross.
Whatever he once was, Amon was gone.
Completely swallowed by this blood-fueled juju, leaving behind nothing but a beast wrapped in human form.
He let out a scream that rattled through the clearing, a sound somewhere between agony and fury, blood surging over his arms, coating them until the crimson hardened into grotesque blades.
Then he lunged, bringing one down in a savage strike meant to cleave me in two.
I raised [Mana Shield].
