Before the sound of his heartbeat had even subsided, strange pitch-black patterns emerged from Kurozawa's brow, like the skin markings of demons from legend.
At first, it was only a black dot. Then it swiftly twisted and spread down Kurozawa's cheeks. The pitch-black patterns followed no discernible order, stretching everywhere like grotesque rose vines. In the blink of an eye, they had gone from a single point to markings that covered Kurozawa's entire body.
Though the sight of his body covered in black patterns made people instinctively uncomfortable, it also possessed a strange and eerie beauty.
"So this is the mark."
Once the pitch-black patterns—the mark—covered Kurozawa's body, his wildly pounding heart finally stopped accelerating and stabilized at its current rate.
Kurozawa took a long breath, his expression grave.
He could feel that his heartbeat, blood flow, cellular metabolism, and everything else had instantly become nearly ten times faster than those of an ordinary person.
If such changes occurred in an ordinary person who had never practiced a Breathing Technique, their blood vessels would burst in an instant, and their body would explode into a mist of blood.
Even swordsmen who practiced Breathing Techniques would die instantly unless they had at least attained Total Concentration Constant.
Only those with sufficiently powerful physiques could survive the mad acceleration of their heartbeat and blood flow when the mark formed.
"No wonder most swordsmen who awaken their marks die suddenly."
While evading Rui's attacks, Kurozawa analyzed his current physical condition.
He found it difficult to control his heartbeat, blood flow, and the like. Even circulating his Breathing Technique could only weaken them to a certain extent. At their weakest, they were still more than twice that of an ordinary person, equivalent to entering a weakened Total Concentration state. Over time, this would inflict