Nero continued walking, his mind working through the implications. The space scaled with his Ein Sof reserves, which meant as he got stronger, as he collected more Seals of Sin, the storage would expand, and eventually, he might be able to carry entire buildings worth of supplies.

The thought was dizzying.

Nero emerged from the forest of fungi and found himself back at the shore where he'd first landed. The Teargail Fungus grew in thick clusters all around, pale grey caps shot through with dark green veins. More food than he could carry ten times over.

But now he didn't need to carry it. He just needed to store it.

Nero focused his will on the Mark of Mephistopheles, imagining that door opening again. The mark flared to life, and he felt the subspace expand around him, an invisible pocket waiting to be filled.

He began picking the Teargail Fungus, carefully removing the caps and placing them into the subspace. It was a strange sensation, like setting something down on a table that didn't exist. The fungi would disappear from his hands, vanishing into the mark's storage.

Nero worked methodically, despite his exhaustion and injuries. He picked every cluster he could reach, storing them away systematically. The work took time, but he had nothing but time at this point.

When he finally finished, Nero estimated he'd gathered enough fungus to feed fifty people for a week, maybe longer. It was a haul that would have been impossible to transport physically.

He summoned Gungnir, feeling the spear smack into his good hand with a light thud. Then, with a thought, he stored it in the subspace as well. The weapon vanished, but he could still feel its presence through their connection.

He tried to call it through Soul Bond, but for some reason, it couldn't come to him.

Then he used his will to pull it out of the mark. Feeling it materialize into his grip, a smile crept onto his face.

This way, he wouldn't need to bother Geor anymore.

Nero turned to look at the island one last time.

The colorful fungi glowed softly in the dim light filtering through the toxic haze. The ravine where the dead Grigori lay was invisible from here, just another depression in the landscape. Nothing about this place suggested the secrets it held, the knowledge that had been carved into divine bone and then absorbed by a demon's book.

"Good riddance," Nero muttered.

Then he turned his attention to the corpse of the Bog Golem.

The creature had collapsed into a pile of rubble and rotting flesh, its stone body crumbling away to reveal the corrupted meat beneath. Black ichor leaked from dozens of wounds, pooling on the ground and steaming in the cool air.

Nero stared at it for a long moment, remembering the brutal fight.

He shook his head and approached the edge of the toxic bog.

The water bubbled and hissed, releasing streams of noxious gas. The surface was covered in a thick film of something that might have been algae or might have been dissolved flesh. It looked even worse than when he'd crossed it the first time.

Nero took a deep breath, immediately regretted it as the toxic fumes burned his lungs, and dove in.

The crossing was every bit as terrible as he remembered.

The water ate at his transformed flesh, dissolving scales and creating fresh wounds faster than his body could adapt. The corruption in the bog fought against the corruption in his body, and Nero was caught in the middle. His skin burned, his eyes watered, his throat closed up as he tried not to breathe.

But he kept swimming.

What else could he do?

The journey back felt longer than the journey there, probably because he was already exhausted and injured. His broken arm was useless in the water, forcing him to swim one-handed. His leg cramped repeatedly, threatening to drag him under.

Nero focused on the movements, on the rhythm of swimming, on anything except the pain and the fear that he wouldn't make it.

Eventually, after what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, his hand touched solid ground.

He hauled himself onto the shore on the far side of the bog, collapsing in the mud. For a long moment, he just lay there, gasping and coughing. Black liquid poured from his mouth, stomach acid mixed with bog water. His entire body felt like it had been dipped in fire.

But he'd made it. Again.

Nero pushed himself up slowly, his muscles screaming in protest. He looked around, getting his bearings. This was where he'd left his satchel and the Silver Blade, hidden beneath the roots of that twisted tree.

He stumbled over to the hiding spot and retrieved his belongings. The satchel was intact, the Silver Blade still sharp and clean. Nero pulled out the Waterskin of Purity with trembling hands.

He unscrewed the cap and took a huge swig.

He immediately doubled over, coughing violently. A mouthful of corrosive black liquid spewed from his throat, splattering onto the ground where it hissed and steamed.

He coughed again, and more came up. Bile and blood and dissolved tissue, all of it tainted by the bog's corruption.

When the coughing finally subsided, Nero took another drink. This time his body accepted it, and he felt the burning in his chest begin to dissipate.

He drank more, gulping down the pure water until he'd emptied nearly half the waterskin. Only then did he stop, gasping and shaking.

Nero poured some of the remaining water over his body, washing away the residue of bog water that clung to his skin. The pure water hissed where it touched the corrupted liquid, neutralizing it. Steam rose from his body as the two substances fought each other.

When he was reasonably clean, Nero put his clothes back on. They were torn and stained and barely held together, but they were better than nothing.

He strapped the Silver Blade to his side, slung the satchel over his shoulder, and took stock of his condition.

His broken arm was still broken. His leg was still injured. His body was covered in burns and wounds and patches of corrupted flesh. He'd been through hell, absorbed forbidden knowledge, been marked by a demon prince, and nearly died more times than he could count.

But he was alive.

And he had the Teargail Fungus.

Nero turned toward the path that would lead him back to where Lucy and Aisha were waiting.

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