Without hesitation, Ethan grabbed the cast on his right arm, with which he'd somehow still managed to ride a motorcycle, smoke, and eat.
Crack!
He tore it clean off.
His arm no longer throbbed with unbearable pain, and instead, there was only a faint discomfort. For an ordinary person, an injury like that would have required surgery and weeks in a cast, followed by months of rehabilitation.
Even after the bones healed, rebuilding the muscles and restoring proper movement would've taken even longer, if that was even possible. Yet Ethan had recovered in a matter of hours, which amazed Elara, who recalled just how mangled his arm had been.
He slowly flexed his fingers, then his wrist and elbow.
The scorched skin still peeled away in small black flakes, revealing fresh pink flesh beneath, but the muscles responded naturally, and the bones felt solid once again. It felt as good as new, at least physically.
But something still wasn't quite right.
