I was going to grind down Arianna further, to try to shape the rough diamond in front of me into something more… but then I started to feel inexplicably tired. I looked up at the starry sky above us. It was late. It had been a long day - probably the longest day in both of my lives.

I yawned.

"Anyways, it's getting kinda late. I'll explain everything to you tomorrow. I'm heading off to bed and I suggest you do the same."

"You really expect me to fall asleep in this temple? After everything you did?!" The scion of Manning house snarled at me.

"You know what? You can stay up as long as you want, princess. I'm tired of your persistent antagonism."

She glared at me from beneath red bangs.

"Actually, you know what…” I pursed my lips. “Do you know… how to read and write?"

"Of course I do! Every noble…" she scoffed.

"Yes, yes. You are above the ignorant, unwashed masses. Would you be ever so kind as to teach my servitor how to read and write?"

"WHAT?!"

I think I've managed to produce a new emotion out of the noble femme. Not once in thirteen years of our dreadful relationship I've seen Anathema look this surprised.

"Teach, Mr. Murr, how, to, read." I repeated, making pauses between every word while pointing at the long phantom.

I didn't have the energy to say anything more. My body was aching all over. The numerous injuries I had accumulated throughout the day were finally making themselves known. Even with twice the human stamina and energy I was beginning to crash.

"Mr. Murr," I addressed the servitor. "Stay with her and make sure she doesn't break anything or hurt herself. I promised her bodyguard to keep her safe. Take her to one of the guest bedrooms if she does decide to sleep."

The phantom nodded. If I was judging his alien expressions correctly, he was actually very excited at the prospect of learning to read. What kind of fascinating things could he tell me if he learned how to write? The potential for furthering my ‘first contact’ with an actual alien was truly phenomenal.

"Toodles," I waved a hand at the confused girl and the happy-looking ghost and departed.

I felt woozier with every step and collapsed onto the bed in the guest room provided to me by Celes earlier.

My eyes focused on the gilded ceiling above me featuring cultivators wrestling with a dragon. It was a cool piece of art. Even if I disliked the massive disparity between the Immortals and regular people, this place was still a picturesque masterpiece. Every corner of the temple had something visually stimulating for its guests to appreciate.

"Ash?" Celes emerged from the hallway, standing in the door.

"Yeah?" I asked tiredly.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m hella exhausted,” I replied. “Dead tired.”

Celes looked like she was about to say something more, but then she changed her mind.

“I won’t bother you any further then. Goodnight Ash,” she turned away.

Her body, dressed in thin, gold-threaded silk shimmered in the brilliant moonlight cast behind her figure. Numerous servitor lanterns swayed in the wind in the distance, looking like arrays of blurry golden spheres in my eyes.

I was outside of her serenity field for only ten minutes while talking to Anathema. As I continued to stare at the back of Celes, her dark, feminine figure moving away reminded me of... someone. Someone torn away, erased from my life… forevermore. Maybe a sister? A mother? Someone I loved? I wasn’t quite sure.

Both of my souls had lost everything. The orphan’s former family was turned to ashes by Stormweaver knights, scattered amidst the ruin of her former home. The Pharmacist’s family was a thousand years in the unreachable, forgotten past. Neither of us could even recollect what our family looked like!

In that instance something in me had finally broken, snapped. The dam of my concealed emotions burst, ravaging me with ten thousand thundering typhoons. It started with a sob, then another. I covered my face up with my hands.

The feeling of serenity was back, but it didn’t help much at this point. I wept in grief, drowning in the swell of mournful sorrow for the people I couldn't remember, for everything and everyone that I… that we had lost.

I felt as Celes sat down next to me and still I didn’t stop sobbing. It was the first time Ash had cried in front of anyone in thirteen years, because to show such emotions in front of the Hand gang was a display of an unacceptable weakness that would only earn her more beatings.

Alone, Ash... I could never open up to anyone, but with the Pharmacist entwined within my own soul, feeling twice the loss and twice the grief I could no longer hold it in, could no longer keep propping myself up.

I wasn’t an all knowing genius, wasn’t a perfect being. I didn’t always have the right answer. My actions had consequences. As I knocked Enforcer Sempiter down from the sky, I had deprived the city of at least twenty one immortals who would defend it with their lives.

“Uh… it’s going to be okay, Ash,” Celes finally spoke, gently patting my shoulder. “You did good today. Your actions will save countless lives when the Deathstorm comes.”

I nodded, looking up at her. I didn’t stop crying. Why was I feeling so weak, so broken? Why was the field of serenity no longer helping? The improvised bandage strapped around my head felt wet and heavy. I touched it and my hand came back covered in blood. Shit.

Celesteel. The supposedly unbreakable, unbeatable blade. I tried to recall a distant memory from the marketplace, a merchant listing the incredible advantages of celestial metal that was harvested from the depths of Lord Boundless.

. . .

“Do you know why this celesteel sword is truly worth the exuberant cost?” A corpulent salesman grinned with yellowing teeth at a prospective buyer inquiring about the weapon in question. “It cannot be broken by a mortal, yes… but that is not the only advantage of this divinely-blessed weapon. The wound made by it will never heal, never scab over. It will slowly, gradually drain life from the blood itself. Just one tiny stab with this sword is enough to bring down a titan beast… eventually, if simply given enough time! Once the monster has but a single cut, you can retreat and simply wait for it to die! Ha ha ha ha.”

. . .

Fuck! I was clearly suffering from blood loss. Hemophilia.

My eyes shot open. I stopped crying.

“What’s wrong?” The geisha noticed my extremely worried expression.

“Celes, you need to find a needle and some thread. Some alcohol too. STAT!” I barked. “The Celesteel cut won’t stop bleeding! I’m going to die if I don’t stitch it up!”

“What kind of alcohol?”

“The strongest you can find! Send Knips to fetch it from the catacombs beneath the temple! Hurry!!!” I groaned. My forehead felt numb, dead to the touch. Did necrosis already start? Surely it was too soon. Hells-damned magic-metal bullshit!

Celes was gone, inner peace ripped away from me as she rushed downstairs to grab what I had asked for. “Knipz!” I heard her summon the servitor.

I focused on the problem at hand.

I pushed Qi into the location of the cut, sweating and shaking. There was definitely something incredibly wrong on the biological level. My blood cells were dying at an increasingly worsening rate around the area. In fact, something was wrong all over my body now.

My heart was slowing down. My chest was starting to hurt. Anemia. Some kind of an infection, maybe? Bacteriological or viral? How long would it take for my organs to start to fail, for whatever the hell this was? How long would it take to reach my brain? As if hemophilia wasn’t enough of a problem. Freaking hells!

Idiot. I’m such an idiot. I chided myself. I had gotten used to winning. My dumb luck had run out. For once, I rolled a one instead of a twenty. After all of my effort to save myself, Celes and the people of this city… I was going to die from a small cut. Way to go, Ash.

The situation was getting worse. The injury swallowed up all of the Qi I had pushed there in seconds.

Yes, there were two more wishes sitting in my pocket, but what good was pouring Qi at the problem if I had no idea what to even do with it? At best, I knew how to make bruises heal slightly faster. I couldn't even see what was happening, couldn't roll my eyes at my forehead to scan the cut. I attempted to do so anyway.

[Ash Sparks - LV 4 Observer]

[Primary weapon - Scanning LV 8]

I already know that, damn it. I need to know… information about my injury. Come on! I pulled at the information fractal, folding and unfolding it.

[Human weapon - female spawn : 17.54% decay]

Argh! I’m not a… you know what, never mind. I tried to get more comprehensive information as the decay number quickly ticked up and up.

[Affliction - Kiss of the Celesteell blade]

The text started to swim, warping into incomprehensible gibberish in my eyes, losing cohesion.

It was getting harder to focus. It was then that I knew that I had screwed up, lost the game. Whatever the hells this affliction was, it was killing me much faster than it would a giant beast. I wasn’t a high-cultivator, wasn’t even a regular cultivator. I was a sixteen-year-old, talentless idiot who got lucky a few times today...

I merely, accidentally got my hands on something that should have never crossed my path - seven shining beast cores that belonged to Immortal high-cultivators, incredible power ripped from monstrous creatures of the deep dungeons. Stealing someone else’s power wasn't impressive. I was a clueless fool. I was wrong to…

My despondent thoughts started to jamble. I desperately tried to pull Qi from one of the beast cores through the pocket, but something was wrong. My own Qi refused to cooperate, refused to pull energy from something that I wasn’t in direct contact with. Normally, I could reach out with my Dantian, push and pull Qi from an object that was several thumbs away without actually touching it.

I looked down at myself. The normally bright aurora borealis radiance that ordinarily danced over my skin was dimming, losing colors, turning grayscale.

Damnation! My aura was coming apart, weakening! The level of blood cells within my veins must have dropped to dangerously low levels.

I couldn't center myself, couldn't even move my hand to open the pocket containing the last two spheres of power.

Crap, crap… crraaaaaap…