The heat came first.
It always did.
Julian gritted his teeth, feeling his skin prickle and pulse, his veins burning like molten threads beneath the surface. Every muscle tightened, then loosened—his body expanding, refining, reshaping under the weight of the Potential Syringe.
He drew a breath, slow and steady, then turned his gaze toward the last piece—the small glowing pill in his hand.
[Random Attribute Surge]
Julian smirked faintly. "Alright. Let's finish this."
He tossed it into his mouth.
One.
Two.
Three.
The burn roared to life again, sharper this time—like a forge igniting in his chest.
"Fuck… why is it always fire?" he muttered through clenched teeth.
It felt as though a flame had been swallowed whole, now clawing its way out from his heart. For a moment, he swore he could breathe sparks.
But he didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
