A large part of the mystery of the black roses fell into place in Symon's mind. It had been a little odd that his meagre few levels in Poison Resistance had been enough to completely counteract the dust, while his friends outside its border had taken some real injuries just from a brief brush with it, but it was something he hadn't picked up on.

He was still getting used to understanding how much an individual level helped — it was easy enough to notice Swords improving his ability to swing around his blade, but his resistances were much harder to quantify. Still, his Poison and Bleeding resistance were only one level apart, and he knew that his bleeding speed was slower than it should have been, but not by much.

Even when he'd had a couple of Durga's ciders, he'd experienced some of the effects of alcohol, and that was when he'd been pacing himself, so why was he completely immune to the poisonous pollen? As it turned out, his resistance must only be a small part of his immunity. The pollen was reacting with the mana in people's bodies, with dangerous effects. Judging by how fast the blisters on the skin had formed on both Entisse and on Safiya's hand, it was quite powerful. Whatever prolonged exposure would cause, it was surely something horrible.

Less obvious was that the process also destroyed the target's mana. The enchanted rug's self-cleaning magic still worked, so there had to be some kind of limitation — presumably, living targets only, although that was just a guess. It would explain why the groundskeeper had been unharmed, as he knew that the undead needed a shell of mana around their vitality to keep them from dispersing and dying a true death. It was also possible that the groundskeeper had some connection to the roses so they knew not to harm him, but Symon didn't know which was more likely.

Destroying someone's mana sounded bad, but really, it was more of an inconvenience. People — other than Symon, of course — would naturally regenerate it over time, so it just meant they couldn't use as many abilities that cost mana.

Judging by both Keelgrave and the elf's current state, a severe lack of mana caused some issues. Entisse was weak, although he wasn't sure how much of that was mana starvation and how much was regular starvation, but Keelgrave was definitely acting tired and slow after expending most of his mana to charge the translation ring for them. His mana must have been protected by being inside Symon's vessel, or perhaps it was just his undead nature. As Safiya hadn't noticed anything similar, such a brief brush of pollen must have destroyed an imperceptibly small amount of mana.

Symon couldn't tell the difference between 17 and 18 units of vitality in his vessel by feeling alone, and mana worked similarly. She would have already been missing some mana from the fight with the emberwolves, making it even harder to notice such a tiny amount vanishing.

By now, the spirit and elf had largely recovered. He'd tried to wash some of the pollen off Entisse, but it had turned out to be unneeded. That was a lucky break, as he only had a single small water canteen with him. The reaction between the pollen and someone's mana was a self-destructive process: whatever magic was in the pollen, it was consumed once it destroyed a certain amount of mana. He'd simply slowly fed her more vitality until it had burned itself out. Her mana returned impressively fast, at least according to Keelgrave, but was still a slow enough process that the pollen only ever had a tiny trickle of fuel to burn.

Once the pollen had been dealt with, it had been a surprisingly short wait until she regenerated enough to reactivate the translation ring. Meanwhile, Keelgrave had also been regenerating his reserves at a much slower pace.

"Hang on, how does that even work?" Symon asked. "I thought undead couldn't regenerate mana."

<Maybe it's a spirit thing, or maybe I'm just better than every other shmuck that died, but I can absorb some of the stuff that seeps into your body. Not like you're using it. It's slow, but it beats not having any,> the spirit responded. Either way, they'd spent enough time in the manor that Symon's body had safely absorbed the mana necessary for Keelgrave to be back to his usual self, though his reserves were still low.

Turning to Entisse, he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Um, there's no easy way to ask this question, so I'm just going to come out and say it. You don't eat babies, right?"

Her large eyes opened even wider than they usually were. "What?! No, what reason would I have for that?"

"See? I told you she doesn't eat bab—"

"They have no power for me to consume. What would be the point?" she continued.

Symon blinked, ignoring the strangled noise Keelgrave had just made. "Would you… eat a baby if it was powerful?"

She gave his question some serious contemplation, her eyes somehow managing to appear glazed over despite being a solid black colour. "No."

"Oh, good, becau—"

"If a meagre baby is powerful enough to be worthy of consumption, its guardians would be far too dangerous for me to risk their wrath."

Symon rubbed a hand against his cheek in exasperation, feeling the slight stubble scratch against him. "So what you're saying is you don't eat babies?"

"Correct."

"See? For real this time."

<You really trust it? They just gave you the answer they knew you were looking for. They might look human-ish, but elves are just monsters.>

Symon looked at Entisse, her clawed hand picking idly at her leg while she stared at him. "I dunno, she seems normal enough if you ignore the claws and fangs."

Her head tilted to the side, much further than would be comfortable for a human. "You think slow."

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Right, he could probably do a better job of multitasking two conversations at once. When marching with the Dumosans, there were so many boring hours of nothing but walking that he'd gotten used to be able to chat with Keelgrave whenever he wanted to. Speaking in thoughts was faster than speaking aloud, but it wasn't instant.

"Uh, just trying to consider my future plans. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

She shrugged.

"So, you are an elf, right? And there are different types?"

"Yes. Yes, or so I have heard," she said, her head righting itself once more. The whole time, her eyes had stayed locked on his. "My people had no interaction with other elves. I doubt we would have gotten along."

"Why's that?"

"It is the way."

"Right… consume their power and all that?"

"Exactly, and we would not allow them to take our resources. It is the law of the deep. You only own what you can protect, and we would protect the little we owned." She leaned against the hallway's wall casually, her clawed fingertips tapping a complex rhythm on her elbow.

"Sounds like a rough place. Have you met many humans?" he asked.

"No, we lived far underground. The first humans I had seen were those who attacked us."

It was no wonder, then, that she'd behaved so suspiciously of him at first. "Your… tribe? What happened to them?" he asked, although he suspected he already knew the answer.

She nodded. "Most were cut down, but a few fled. Cowards. Some of us were out hunting, but I do not know if they were also killed."

Considering everyone she ever knew had recently been slaughtered, she seemed oddly unfazed. Perhaps elves just mourned differently. Humans alone could be varied in their grief, let alone a whole different species. During his placement training, a year-long ordeal that a large chunk of his class had washed out from, he'd seen the full spectrum. A stoic-faced little girl, a wailing and hysterical father, and everything in between.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. It was all he could do. "Do you want to go back?"

She considered his words for a long moment, the rhythm of her drumming fingers speeding up, faster and faster until they suddenly stopped. "No. There is nothing there for me now. Life there was too safe and stagnant. It was not the way."

He wasn't sure if she truly believed that, or if she was just trying to convince herself. With her alien body language, it was impossible to tell. The occasional similarities to what he was used to only served to complicate things, making him second-guess if, say, a confused head tilt really did mean confusion to her.

"Well… I suppose that's it, then." Symon opened the door to the bedroom he'd placed her in before, eyeing the pollen-covered apple on the nightstand. "I'll help you get through the barrier, then get some food. I'm guessing you can't just walk into the village and buy some?"

<No, she can't,> Keelgrave interjected. <Being people who actually understand the world they live in, they'll do the smart thing and kill her on sight.>

"Oh shush, you."

She perked up suddenly. "The village?"

"Oh, right, you've never seen people before. There's one pretty close by, actually."

The contemplation was much shorter this time. "No, I won't risk it. I have nothing to barter with, anyway."

"I could just buy you something," he shrugged. He wasn't strapped for coins, and she'd clearly been underfed for a long time. "It seems my healing doesn't fix starvation, so we've got to do it the old-fashioned way." It was a little odd, actually. His magic could generate new, healthy cells out of thin air by consuming vitality, so why wasn't it just applying that healing to those that already existed?

Wait a second… I do feel pretty hungry myself. He'd had a sizeable breakfast, and it hadn't been long since then. A lot had happened, but it had been crammed into a short timeframe. A quick trek through the forest, the fight with the wolves, defeating the groundskeeper, exploring the mansion and saving Entisse… it hadn't been more than two hours since he'd set out.

Granted, it had been a pretty intense two hours, but not enough to justify how hungry he was. Healing all the burns he'd suffered, both at the hands — or antlers — of the wolves, as well as the self-inflicted ones, must have taken a toll on his body's reserves. He didn't have the 'normal' magical healing, where they sped up someone's natural healing process. That would consume a lot of calories to work. His was a lot more… unnatural, the new parts coming from pure magic.

The new cells appear without any fuel, so it still makes me hungry in the end. The process was different, but the end result was largely the same. Healing made you hungry. Although, if he were to starve to the point his body was considered damaged, could he heal that?

Hmm, probably. I don't think there's anything physical I can't heal.

He would still be starving, but it would take time for the healed cells to return to a damaged state. It would work to stave off death but wouldn't be pleasant, which is why he wanted to find some proper food for Entisse.

"So, what do you eat? Not apples, I know that." He cast a glance through the bedroom doorway at the bruised, pollen-covered fruit still sitting on the table.

"Meat," she said, showing off her fangs in the process.

"Fair enough. No plants at all? Oh, and any specific type of meat?" Offering the apple had been a long shot, but he'd considered it worth the attempt due to her advanced starvation. He'd expected her to maybe reject it or just have a nibble, not take a massive bite and spit it out on the floor.

"Plants only if they are yummy. Not this apple. Gloomberries are good. Some mushrooms are good. Meat is meat: more mana is better, but not required."

"Hmm, does wolf meat sound okay? They had magical fire, so I'm guessing they'll have a lot of mana in their flesh." He had the perfect revenge in mind for the monsters that had lit him on fire. Okay, he might have been partially to blame for that, but it had still hurt.

She nodded eagerly. "Yes, I should have known one with your power would have prepared a feast already. I shall use their power to slaughter your enemies!"

"Uh, no need for that. I don't think I have any enemies."

"You have already killed them all? I should have known…"

"No, no, I just try not to make any in the first place. Besides, it's hard for people to hate the healer, not that I've really interacted much with the villagers. I haven't been here long."

"You are a traveller? You roam the lands fighting monsters?"

"Well, I guess so, but they mostly tend to find me. I'd prefer a more peaceful life, really, but that seems off the table for now."

"So if I defeated these monsters and consumed them, you would continue to heal me?"

<Oh gods, Symon, please don't do this. I'm begging you,> Keelgrave moaned.

"You want to travel together? Well…" Symon did feel pretty bad for her, what with everyone she'd ever known being killed and then getting taken into slavery. It sounded like she wouldn't be accepted in the village, either, so her only option would be living in the monster-infested forest alone. Apparently, she loved killing them, but that still didn't sound like a very good life to him. "Oh, what the hell, sure. I'll have to talk to the others first, though."

<Godsdamnit Symon, think this through! Even if she's not faking it and you really did manage to tame an elf, what's going to happen the next time you try and take her into a town? If the Empire did one thing right, it's that they clean them up quickly as soon as they find a hive.>

"It's not like I can just stroll into town with my magic either, now can I? If I'm going to be stuck outside with the monsters, I'm not going to say no to having some company that could actually, say, fight at my side without me accidentally killing them."

She shook her head. "No, first: we find some food."

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