The transformation was not beautiful.
Far from it.
It was ugly and wretched, just like Garrick himself.
Garrick's body convulsed, his back arching as he dropped his sword. The empty vial fell from his fingers to smack on the muddy ground. His mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. Only a thin stream of black fluid that ran down his chin from his lips.
Nero took a step back, Gungnir held ready. Every instinct screamed at him to run. To get away from the horror about to unfold.
But there was no time to run, as Garrick's flesh began to ripple and bulge. His muscles swelled, growing larger and denser beneath his skin. The fabric of his shirt tore as his chest expanded, his arms thickening until they were nearly as wide as Nero's torso.
