Theo hadn't remained broken. As reality rushed back in, the temporal designation's recovery enhancement had kicked into a desperate, automated overdrive.
It didn't heal him; it simply forcibly reanimated his systems, stitching together failing nerve clusters and forcing blood through depleted veins just enough to grant him basic mobility.
He had dragged himself up from the base of the construct, his movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette being pulled by invisible, cruel strings.
Now, he hovered approximately thirty meters above the street. He possessed no wings, no true flight; he was simply suspended there by the residual temporal enhancement, the designation anchoring his personal timeline to a fixed point in space to prevent him from plummeting to his death.
He looked like a fallen angel bleeding out in midair.
