Ludwig's lips curled in an ugly way, "Is this not enough proof?" he said through the noise that was trying to split his mind in half.
After all, he was no longer Undead. He was no longer in [Living Vessel]; he was an orc, a normal creature, a creature susceptible to wrath, a dangerous poison.
He could feel the difference in a way that made him hate being alive again. As undead, he could treat emotion like static and ignore it. Here, the static had teeth. It wasn't just sound. It was pull. It wanted to move his hands.
"We need the elders for this," Dedal said.
"Well, better hurry, I can't hold this form for long," Ludwig said as he took several breaths.
He controlled his inhalations deliberately, deep, slow, measured, forcing his lungs to obey him instead of letting the wrath breathe through him. The red aura crackled off his body in faint lightning-like threads, snapping and fading against torchlight.
