The laughter held a madness that could only fill one with a sense of apprehension in fear. It was the kind of laughter that came from a man who had lost his mind, the kind only one who had stepped over their breaking point could produce.
The two halves of Alexandre's body began to stitch itself back together.
As though it was a mere surface stitching, as he tried to rise up, his body threatened to fall apart again. However, slowly but surely, the connection became steadier and stronger. By the time Alexandre had risen to his feet, the stitching began to mend itself, disappearing beneath healthy, healed skin.
In the skies, Leonel watched on with narrowed eyes. He was trying to understand if he had made a mistake or not. Where had he gone wrong? What exactly was this ability? Where did it come from?
