As his awareness grew, pain flooded back into his consciousness like a tidal wave—every cut, every torn muscle, every broken bone screamed for attention at once. The agony was so intense it nearly made him black out again.
Then he turned to study his surroundings, and he saw a concerned face intently studying him. It was one of the Chimaeric Demons, its features tight with worry.
The clone had kept its human form rather than the wyvern shape. Then Erik glanced around, noting the absence of the massive provision boxes each clone had to bring to Mur.