As Symon pointed his sword to the heavens and Entisse rattled the chains around her legs eagerly, he wondered, of all things, what his parents were doing. How long had he spent in that between state he only vaguely recalled? How much time had passed, from their perspective?

Maybe his parents had just lost their only child a few days ago, or maybe it had been decades for them. He wasn't sure which one was worse.

With a glance down at Entisse's prone form, one of her manacled legs dangling off a stone block, he sighed as he took a step back and lined up his swing. His lip twitched slightly in a grim smile as he imagined having to explain to his parents what he was doing.

Before he could delay any further and have to listen to the elf's hissed complaints at how long it was taking, he swung his sword down towards a spot just above her bare ankle.

It whistled through the air in the arc of an executioner's axe, although it only buried itself halfway through the bone instead of cleanly through. He let out a soft grunt of effort, which contrasted with Entisse's sharp hiss. He yanked the blade out forcefully, knowing that speed was most important when he was just going to heal the injury after anyway. Her whole body twitched in response. To his surprise, the resultant spray of blood from the cut was much smaller than he'd been expecting, and the pained hiss stopped quickly.

He stepped back once more and hefted his sword, sparing a glance at her face to make sure she hadn't passed out. He'd already healed her before this as much as his magic possibly could, but her weakened state — a result of starvation, both of mana and food — meant he couldn't afford more than a brief inspection. She was still hissing, her lips pulled back in a snarl, but it must have risen in pitch so high that he couldn't hear it.

He pulled the sword back, this time slamming it down faster and more confidently. It cracked more than cut through the bone, leaving only a thin strip of meat connecting her ankle to the rest of her leg. Before he could swing a final time, she pulled her new stump through the manacle, tearing off the remaining scrap of flesh in the process. The now severed part landed in the dirt, the blood dripping from it feeding the nearby roses.

Her stump dripped a steady but oddly slow stream of blood from the sundered limb, and he wasted no time falling to his knees and placing his hands just above the wound before feeding his vitality into her. He considered attempting to reattach the foot, but a quick glance at all the pollen it had pressed into the wounded part once it rolled away made him change his mind. Better to do things right the first time. Immediately, the trickle of blood slowed even further, then the missing part began regrowing. Transfixed, he watched the gruesome sight as strands of muscle fiber grew out into the open air, flailing wildly like an octopus at first before meeting each other, where they then wrapped around each other and began growing down.

He kept the flow of vitality steady, rotating around Entisse to bring more roses into his range once the current ones had all died. Much like with his missing fingers, spurs of bone led the charge out of the wound and into the open air, tendrils of flesh anchoring it as the bone grew and grew. The tendrils slithered up the side like red vines on a marble pillar, thickening outwards as ligaments grew and new bone formed.

All the levels he'd earned for Idealise must have hastened the process, because her foot was fully returned after only a minute of this. It had taken him at least three times as long to regrow his fingers, and that was much less mass.

The pale grey appendage experimentally flexed this way and that, the lack of any pollen or grime making it stand out against the rest of her skin, but she was clearly satisfied with the results. Symon was, too. It had taken almost a full vessel's worth of vitality to replace the entire foot, including the ankle. From one perspective, this might have been considered a poor ratio of vitality to healing, but Symon found himself grateful for its existence in the first place.

It was good to have another data point for how much vitality it took to regrow things from scratch, but he'd been intending on trying to reattach it, not regrow it.

"Next time, don't tear it off and let it roll into the dirt," Symon said, using hand signs to try and get his point across. Judging by the look on her face, it didn't work. With a sigh, he pointed at the ring on her finger, motioning for her to hand it over. She did, seemingly forgetting to hiss at him when his fingertips gently brushed the palm of her hand as he picked it up, her focus on her new foot.

"Can you charge this ring for me?" he asked Keelgrave, holding the ring between two fingers.

<Maybe. Hold it up to your chest and I'll try,> the spirit replied seriously.

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Symon did so, pressing the ring over where his vessel was and waiting there. With all of Entisse's injuries once more healed, there was no rush to start on the next amputation. He could sense Keelgrave focusing, but didn't feel anything else. Slowly, a warm tingling built up over most of his body. It took him a moment to realise it was the sensation of the pollen on his skin. When had he stopped feeling that?

It didn't take long before the ring began glowing faintly — even more so than when Entisse had charged it — and the tingling stopped. <That's all I can manage,> Keelgrave said groggily. Symon nodded his thanks and slipped the ring on.

"Testing, testing, one two three," he said aloud.

"The ring is not working. You speak nonsense," Entisse replied.

"Great," he said, "don't help me rip off this next one. I want to try and reattach it instead of regrowing it."

"Fine, if you cut better," she said.

"I'm trying! It's not like I've done this before, and your damn bones are tougher than they should be."

She hissed smugly before lying back down from where she'd twisted around to inspect the regrown part, weakly rattling the remaining manacle.

Once more, he gave himself no time to second-guess himself. He lifted the sword high and brought it down as smoothly as he could. The elf let out a pained gasp as the blow cut deep into the bone, but Symon wasn't done yet. He moved in closer, grabbing onto the limb for leverage, and grimaced as he began sawing through the bone with his sword. It wasn't intended to be used in this way, but he was already most of the way through, and raw force was sufficient to take the blade the rest of the way. She let out a final scream as the part was fully separated, but a glance up at her revealed her panting smile.

He was no stranger to injuries and gore, but this was still a lot to handle. His throat was dry and tight as he slid the manacle off the softly bleeding stump, severed foot in one hand. When he accidentally brushed the metal ring against the wound, he winced in sympathy but continued the process, throwing the chain off and freeing her completely.

Immediately after, he lined up the missing part and pressed it to where it should be. With one hand below and the other above the rough line of separation that he'd messily carved, he channelled a steady stream of vitality into both ends. The connection healed more efficiently than needing to regrow a full replacement, both in terms of vitality and time. Twenty seconds and five units of vitality was all that the wound needed to heal completely.

He straightened up with a relieved sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow after first confirming he wasn't going to smear her blood all over his forehead. "Well, a bit messy, but that went about as well as it could have," he said, holding his hand out in an offer to help her up.

Her brows curved into a hard, suspicious 'V' as she stared at the outstretched hand. Slowly, her features softened ever so slightly and she reached out, wrapping her long, bony fingers around his wrist before he lifted her to her feet. She was so light that it took barely any effort.

"Yes…" she hissed softly, lost for words. "I… thank you for your aid."

"Oh," Symon said, taken aback. Other than from Aslan, he hadn't heard 'thank you' for a while. "Not a problem at all. You're welcome."

"Yes," she replied, staring unblinkingly at him.

"Uh, right. So, it worked? You have your mana back?"

"Yes," she said again, the black orbs still locked onto him. "You are surprised at my manners?"

"Oh, maybe a little. You just seemed a little… wild, I guess. Sorry, that's probably rude to say."

"See? Manners, too. This is the way."

"Well, I'm glad you agree," he said. That puts her above a certain someone… "What's with the sudden change, though?"

"You have proven powerful and worthy of respect," she said as if it were obvious.

Of course, she wouldn't be nice just because it was the right thing to do. Still, it was much better than her continued suspicion, even if he'd have preferred for it to have been for a better reason. "Before I head off, want to take a few steps around for me? There shouldn't be any problems, but we may as well double-check."

In response, she began walking up and down the pathway. Her steps were initially hesitant, but she quickly sped up until she was jogging back and forth. "They work normally," she said after coming to a stop in front of him.

"Hmm, good. No pain or anything?"

"There is an odd sensation."

Symon stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to elaborate. "What kind of odd sensation?" he prompted.

"Like tiny warm pins."

That sounded familiar to Symon. "Is it all over, or just in your legs?"

"Everywhere."

"Remind me how you made it through the pollen barrier in the first place?" he asked. The symptoms she described were similar to how the mists had first felt, but he wasn't sure why she was experiencing them now, and not immediately after stepping out of the manor. Even inside the main barrier, the air outside the manor was still hazy with the black pollen, so it should have already happened. There was also plenty inside the main areas of the manor, but the rooms away from the points of entry were largely clear of the substance.

"Crawled."

"Right, and you didn't experience that same feeling then?"

"No," she said. With a tilt of her head, she continued. "It just changed. Now, it burns. It is quite painful."

Her words were so calm and casual that they took a few moments to register in Symon's mind. "Wait, really? Shit, let's get back to the manor."

Entisse let out a hiss of agreement and the two quickly began pacing back inside. They hadn't travelled far from the entrance to perform the improvised surgery, but she bolted in as fast as she could all the same. Once he caught up, he found her breathing heavily inside the foyer, each breath in and out coming with its own hiss. It didn't take long to validate the reason for her haste: dozens upon dozens of tiny, swollen blisters coated her exposed flesh, the normally grey skin around them taking on a purple hue.

He gently placed his hand on her arm with a frown, doing his best to avoid touching the blisters. He was only partially successful, judging by how she stiffened as soon as he touched her. He fed a few units of vitality into her, watching as the blisters rapidly faded in a wave spreading out from where the vitality had arrived.

"That's really odd," he said. "I'm not sure why it would start up now, of all times. Any ideas?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Skreshpa vorssk?"

They both looked down at the ring on her finger at the same time. Once more, it was dull and manaless. She appeared to focus on it for a few seconds, but nothing changed. Slowly, her look of surprise morphed into a more understanding shock.

The pollen… has it been eating the mana?

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