Stigma Of The Black Heavens III

As the first light touched the horizon, Zariel stirred from the mental realm of cultivation. He sat up, overwhelmed as his body felt heavier and his limbs longer. Gazing down at himself, he saw that he had grown by at least a foot overnight. His once-slender frame had transformed into a toned, muscular physique that looked more fitting for a young adolescent than a child. His shoulders were broader, his chest was more defined, and his arms and legs were thicker. 

He might have smiled if not for the black impurities seeping from his pores, clinging to the flesh like nats on shit.

Zariel turned visibly pale, prompting him to cast a cleaning spell. But even as the impurities were atomized, the stench still lingered. He made for the bathhouse, leaping in without hesitation but not before tossing his clothes into the fire pit, praying it made it to the nine hells.