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Hugin could feel the writhing demons lodged within his body, squirming just beneath the surface. Once, long ago, they had been forcibly sealed inside him, their presence intended to awaken a potential deep within—a cursed potential capable of adapting to, even commanding, those very monsters.
But now, the demons were resisting his control. Even as he pushed his fighting spirit to its limits, his Malevolent Possession struggled to restrain the dozen or so demons all stirring at once.
"Without the smoke demon here, it's a challenge to suppress these demons," Hugin muttered to himself. "I've waited ten years for this day. Perhaps the moment these creatures break free will be the moment that I—or rather, we—are at our strongest."
A tremor rippled across the shadows clinging to his skin. With a sudden jolt, a grotesque head tore itself free from the darkness on his body, its face a nightmarish patchwork of mismatched features. Its mouth opened wide in a silent, maniacal laugh.
Hugin didn't flinch. A spectral arm formed from pure fighting spirit burst forth from his body, clamping down on the twisted face and forced it back inside.
But that act of force seemed to provoke the others. Instead of settling down, the demons within him erupted into full rebellion.
Grotesque mouths opened across his skin. Eyes emerged on the back of his neck, rolling and darting wildly. Nails and hair grew at an uncontrollable rate, and his body twisted with malformed growths—manifestations of the demons'...
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