A destructive, murderous rage surged through his blood like a forsaken beast awakening.
Rex couldn't help it. He was in pain, the act of exerting his body in the thrill of battle had become a lot more troublesome than normal, with the gradual penalty haunting him. He ought to avoid unnecessary exertion, so that his body wouldn't reach its limit.
But he couldn't.
Not now, and probably not ever.
His reactive bloodline was stimulated, awakened by the unbridled rage surging through him.
By the second, his power climbed higher.
It wasn't obvious—the people behind him couldn't see a substantial change to his aura, but the air around him made it evident. His presence alone distorted the space around him, and the combat prowess that his body was radiating intensified.
Rex's Werewolf bloodline reacted to his rage and melded his physique past his human limit.
At that moment, it took everything that he had not to transform.
