As the wings slowly unfolded, the Static Holy Temple welcomed its fourth guest, an ominous guest.
The neutral face was stiff, with no trace of emotion, the skin was pure and white, like a crafted jade artifact. As consciousness gradually took control of this body, deep cracking sounds emitted from beneath the body. The interlocking bones began to stretch until the wings with grayish-white edges were fully spread.
This was the image known as an angel in the Gospel, but everyone present knew that the thing before them could never be an angel. Beneath that pure exterior was something forbidden, something twisted and putrid.
Lawrence took a deep breath, trying hard to stay calm. The strange corrosion had already started to spread. Although his will could resist it, his frail mortal body was showing abnormalities. His temporary body's arm, originally coursing with red blood vessels, started to turn dark red, resembling dead branches, clawing and twisting.
