Right now, Anjou looked nothing like a gentleman or an aristocrat; his appearance hovered somewhere between wretched and violent... His clothes were in tatters, the suit and lining long since ripped apart. Intricate, fierce tattoos of Yasha and demons rippled across his heavily muscled frame with every breath, looking as though they had suddenly sprung to life. Scars of varying depths covered his entire body, his silver hair was plastered down by sea spray, rain, and blood, and the lenses of his tortoiseshell glasses had shattered at some unknown point.
The signs of Dragon-blood Transfiguration were already quite pronounced on Anjou: scales encased his neck, elbows, and knees, sharp bone spurs pierced through his skin, and his body possessed a visible, high-speed regenerative capability... Yet even this was not enough. Setting aside the fact that Anjou still fell short of a true dragon's appearance, he retained his sanity, which meant a human heart still beat within his chest.
However, Anjou was facing a truly purebred Dragon Race. Though this behemoth had been dead for over a millennium, it not only retained the majestic exterior of a dragon, but its combat prowess was in no way inferior to when it was alive.
Chapter 619