Andar was at the edge of his endurance, unlike his main body, the recovery capability of this body was abysmal and he could only maintain his life, although he would heal in time, if he did not receive proper magical assistance, he would be maimed.
He was at the limit that his new Mental state could bear and with reluctance, he released the hold of the mystical swirling dust that covered his Spirit Matrix, and it settled into a triangular-shaped clump of dust that was smaller than his fist.
The pain that came was welcomed. As this was just a normal sensation from his body, the screaming soul of the god was now silent, and this pain he was feeling was now his own.
It turned out to be far less painful than he imagined it to be.
