The process did not taper off, it ended abruptly. One moment, Nero was lost in physical pleasure the likes of which could shatter the ordinary human mind, and the next he was not.
Nero trembled. The pleasure that had rocked him was so immense, that its sudden absence, and the subsequent return to normalcy, felt like torture.
But it was not normalcy that Nero returned to. He had stabbed his hand into the crystal spike, and while such a negligible wound would not have even been worth mentioning to Nero before, which now was a world of agony worse than death itself.
Nero would have screamed, if he remembered how to scream. Instead he left his body limp, supported by the liquid which had, oddly enough, not frozen despite his freezing flames. He just lay there, floating, as his mind raced to adapt.
