Inside a vast underground chamber below the Rabbit Hole, Adam lay sprawled on his back.
His chest heaved up and down as he gasped for air. Fresh scars littered his body again—some from whips, while others from blades.
Blood pooled beneath him, flowing out of his wounds. But the sanguine liquid mysteriously returned inside his body as though time flowed in reverse.
Adam gritted his teeth in agony. His injuries burned and itched. But all he could do was pant for breath and allow his regeneration ability to work its magic.
Nearby, Hannibal sat cross-legged on the ground. Unlike Adam, who bled profusely, the eccentric tavern owner did not bleed. He had not even broken a sweat. On his lap lay the Viper in its whip form. He examined the artifact with marvel.
"The Coil is generous with its Summoners," he said as he traced his fingers across the dark weapon. "Makes sense since they're so rare."
"Gener—" Adam wanted to curse, but ended up coughing blood.
