The skinwalker's voice, now a low, masculine rasp, dripped with a chilling confidence as it peeled away the remnants of Rita's charred form, revealing the lean, athletic figure of a young man
Juan Herina, or so this stolen skin had once been called. His pale flesh gleamed under the light of the sun, taut over corded muscles, his eyes now a piercing emerald that flickered with primal glee. A jagged scar ran across his chest, a relic of his past life's violence, and his lips curled into a smug. taunting grin.
Eyeing Nier from head to toe.
"Your form."
He repeated, his voice layered with echoes of countless stolen lives.
"Will be another masterpiece in my collection."
Nier's annoyance increase, still from what he knows about Skin Walker, to defeat one, one would need to force it to shed its layers until its true, vulnerable form emerged.
But easier said than done.
'Still though, to beat this thing, I will need to continuously ripped it to shreds.'
