Velvet Tyrant Physic
It was the fourth day since Leon started integrating his new body—his rebirth.
For three endless days, he had sat at the very center of the blood-soaked hall, huddled on the chill stone floor under faint, dancing light. The emerald sheen of transformation still hung about him, although it had been starting to wane. His legs were crossed neatly, his back impossibly straight, hands loosely on knees, fingers unfurled. He had not shifted once. His silhouette, sharp and calm, was the only thing discernible under the sparse light, making him look like a statue cut from stone. He was less a man and more of a saint in perpetual contemplation, unscathed by the world around him.
