At this moment, Kingsley's body could be seen lying within a ravine, his form utterly unrecognizable as though Anthony had skinned him alive, as at this point he was nothing more than exposed bones and raw muscle, every layer of flesh already stripped away as if erased from existence itself.
He lay submerged within his own blood as though even the simple concept of breathing had become unbearably heavy, his lungs straining violently as they expanded for oxygen, his chest contracting and relaxing in rapid, uneven succession as it pumped blood with an efficiency and speed it had never once been pushed to before, the rhythm frantic, desperate, and dangerously close to collapse.
