Half an hour later, Christopher sat on the ground, blood trickling down his face from a gash on his forehead. His gaze remained fixed on the disintegrating beast before him.
"If I hadn't used a hundred clones, I would have died," he muttered, watching as the beast's particles dissolved into light and drifted towards a distant wall. "I thought I was strong, but it seems… I'm still weak. If Tiamat wasn't with me, I don't think I would have won even with five hundred clones."
The blue glow in his hair vanished, and Tiamat materialized beside him. "You're injured," she observed, gesturing towards his forehead.
"Don't worry about that, it will heal," he replied, pushing himself to his feet.
Tiamat watched, a faint sigh in her mind, as the injury on his face began to close. In less than ten seconds, the gaping scar was gone, leaving no trace.
'Why did I bother?' she mused silently.
