It stained the area a shocking crimson.
The eyes on the man they called Hand-Palm Head flew wide open.
Reflected in his pupils was his own mutilated body,
and the seemingly endless flow of blood.
Fear and despair intertwined into an invisible net, binding him tightly.
The ordeal was far from over.
As he tried to struggle up and escape the horrific scene,
a sudden feeling of emptiness where his leg should be made him lose his balance.
Like a puppet stripped of its supports, he fell backward uncontrollably,
and crashed heavily onto the cold ground.
In that moment, he discovered in horror that his right leg,
at some unknown point, had also silently detached from his body.
The cut was just as perfectly smooth, as if it had never been there at all.
Hand-Palm Head lay on the ground, his body curled up in agony, his eyes filled with disbelief and despair.
He tried to use his remaining left leg to push himself up,
