Within all the chaos, a faint giggle echoed.
A small smile appeared on Apollo's face, while his hair covered his eyes.
His body was mangled, nearly beyond recognition.
...But Apollo didn't seem to notice that.
It was as though Apollo was walking through flames. Flames that charred his skin, roasted his body, and melted his insides.
Yet, instead of dying, it was only now that he felt like he was truly living.
Like an artist.
Experiencing pain not to overcome, but because that was the only way to create a masterpiece.
Apollo's limbs were twisted in the wrong direction.
So he forced them back.
Eerie, yet brutal, cracking sounds rang through the air. His limbs twitched awkwardly as they fit into place while his fingers jolted as though they were experiencing a shock. It made one wonder what kind of will was needed to do something so excruciatingly painful.
