"Look at your right palm," Blob said suddenly, his tone curious, one stubby limb pointing toward Max's hand.
Max lifted his right hand, turning the palm upward.
His breath caught.
Etched into his flesh was a blood-red tattoo, the lines sharp, dark, and pulsing faintly with sinister energy. The symbol was unmistakable—it resembled the infernal demon he'd seen carved onto the gates of the Mourning Depths back in the Divine Palace.
It looked ancient. Malevolent. Alive.
But there was only a single layer.
Max instinctively understood what it meant. This was the Infernal Demon Tattoo, and with each added layer, he would gain greater control over infernal energy, becoming stronger… darker.
But to add more layers—to evolve the tattoo—he would have to hunt and kill more infernal beings. Their deaths, and the infernal energy they released, would be the fuel his body needed to absorb and expand the mark.
