The damage to the landscape was extensive. For fifty kilometers around, the ground was scarred, the trees destroyed. On one side, an inferno raged. On the other, a frozen wasteland. The clash of elements had reshaped the terrain.
Nero canceled his forms and sat down on a nearby rock. His super regeneration was already at work, healing his wounds, mending his broken arm. He would recover, and then he would continue.
Almost two hours had passed since the battle with the twin ogres. Nero sat cross-legged on the rocky outcrop, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even. The ambient prana of the pocket world flowed into him, rich and abundant, filling his cores, mending his flesh. His super regeneration worked in tandem with his meditation, accelerating the healing process. The twisted arm he had sustained in the fight was now straight, the bones knitted back together, the muscles restored. He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulder, feeling the familiar strength return.
