With his realm now advanced to the Spirit Forger state, Jonan could feel the difference in his body, in his breath, and within the marrow of his bones; his wounds, which would have once taken days to close and mend, were now healing themselves shut at an astonishing rate.
The aches in his muscles had dulled to a faint memory, and the sharpness of his senses seemed to stretch far beyond what he'd grown accustomed to, by the time an hour or two had passed, he found himself whole again, the scars of battle merely faint marks upon his skin.
The dry rations he had carried with him, the salted meats, coarse biscuits, and the faintly sweet berries, had aided in that recovery as well, though he was painfully aware that his supplies were dwindling.
He did not have the option of unlimited supplies, not here, not in the dangerous wasteland called The Abyssal Ruins.
