Dylan opened his eyes, gasping. The physical pain remained, but the hollow ache within was filled. Not fully — but enough. His new arm no longer burned; it pulsed with a living warmth that was his own.
He looked up at Julius. The master stood over him, still, silent. There was no approval or disapproval in his gaze — only a deep, attentive watchfulness.
"The first one's the hardest," Julius said at last, his voice cutting through the still air. "Your soul remembers the poison. Next time… it'll hurt a little less."
——-
The next day, the world was no longer the same.
