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The severed piece writhed violently on the ground like a beheaded worm, spraying fountains of black liquid.
But there was no time to celebrate, the perfect cut had also destroyed the plane’s balance.
The Lofty Cloud spiraled out of control, crashing into the heart of the crater, tumbling violently as both wings snapped apart.
Yet in that chaos, most of the drones clinging to the fuselage were crushed to pieces, scattered across the scorched ground by the time the wreck finally came to rest.
Now, only the cockpit remained. It was dented, burned, and stripped bare.
The stainless-steel hull of the Lofty Cloud was battered beyond recognition with not a single panel left unscarred.
If it had been any ordinary pilot, surviving that series of maneuvers with a body intact would already qualify as a medical miracle.
But Falling Feather was anything but ordinary. Actually, he wasn’t even entirely human anymore.
Two seconds after his heart stopped, the pale-red Slime Mold clinging to his chest suddenly contracted...
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