Serph agrees with a nod. It feels strange to be some kind of human-monster hybrid, even if it does rather reflect his feelings about his existence. But the inconvenience of his wings mildly vexes him whenever they get in the way.

"Like humanity doesn't belong."

Serph gestures to the brand on his face before folding his arms.

"This mark is from the Atma virus. The mark for this transformation," he stretches his wings in demonstration, the feathers bending in an unnatural way, "is elsewhere. The two transformations seem incompatible."

His demon is unchanged from his ravenous, inhuman self, unmoved by the moon warp until his demon's hunger forces to revert.