I tumbled out of bed and cleaned myself up as best I could without resorting to a full-blown bathhouse visit. I adventured out into the mostly deserted hallways to flag down a servant to bury him in demands, then made my way back to my room.

Orleander had already sent the painkiller I had requested, a nasty variant of Hero Root. Whoever had named it, they’d had a sense of humor. The stuff didn’t dull pain so much as it convinced your mind to place less importance on it. Many would-be warriors used the root to carry them through a battlefield, afraid of the pain of injury, but the long-term effects of the stuff caused major mental problems.

Maybe Orleander sent me this stuff as a sort of revenge for one of many slights I’d given him. There were certainly easier painkillers to get ahold of on short notice. What did it say about the Baron that he had this stuff on hand and ready to go? I didn’t even need to ask; it was apparent in every way since I’d met the man that he was a coward. Well, at least until I’d thrown him to the wolves, anyway.

The servant came around with the things I’d requested, a large basin of water and a whole animal leg of some kind. Pig leg, probably, which incidentally worked the best for my purposes. I gave a short node of thanks to the servant and kicked him out.

Plopping the leg into the basin and splashing the water all over, I set about the laborious process of setting up what I needed.

There were a few reasons that no other healer I’d ever heard of could do what I attempted. The first was that in order to regrow body parts, you had to destroy it. Healing magic required something to heal. No injury, no healing.

The second was that there weren’t any runes for regrowing body parts. Plenty of runes existed for repairing what was already there, as I was a living breathing example of how effective they could be, but not a single healer I’d ever heard of could regrow a limb. It required resources that the body didn’t want to give up. A normal healer could overcome this limitation, in part, but not enough to do what many considered to be impossible.

The third reason, though, was the Flow. None of them could see the currents like I could, which meant they couldn’t modify their magic on the fly. New runes only came about as the collective consciousness of all of us changed how the currents interpreted human intent. I had no such limitations.

I set about drawing the first part, the destruction ritual. This would take the raw tissues of the pig leg, along with the water, and deconstruct it. Modified of course. The rune itself was standard, nothing tricky about it, and the ritual was widely used for many other things.

I drew the second part, the heat rune. In order to heal something, there needed to be something to heal. I’d healed my leg the night before, covering the stump in fresh, unbroken skin. Healing magic of any sort wouldn’t latch onto it, so that was where the heat rune came in. I’d sear away the skin and then heal it, over and over again, until the physical reality matched what my soul said should exist.

The third rune, a regrowth rune, worked on human flesh, but not in a way that was healthy. Normally it would siphon off flesh and energy from the rest of the body to regrow whatever you worked on, causing devastating harm to otherwise healthy areas.

That was the breakthrough that allowed me to make it all work, though. With the Flow, I could make it work, through altering the intent of the rune with my willpower. What once only worked on plants worked to regrow flesh instead, with the correct materials. The regrowth rune usually pulled the necessary materials from the ground and air, but with the addition of the pig leg and the water, everything I needed was in place.

I prepared the Hero Root, chuckling at the ridiculous name, but wary of the effects. I’d need to keep my wits about me to avoid falling into the mindset of the root’s namesake, which would require me to juggle my focus between three separate things. The ritual destruction, the heat rune, and modifying the regrowth.

Hesitating, I fought my own apprehension. I’d only ever done this with fingers, and part of a hand that one time. I’d need to power through for the whole bottom portion of a leg. I quaffed the root mixture, unsurprised at the earthy taste. It tasted just like one would think a root tasted, bitter, just like Kan’on would be when he laid his eyes on my brand-new leg.

Waiting for the root take effect frayed my nerves even more. I wouldn’t know if the full effects had been reached without actually causing myself pain, and then it would be impossible not to know as it would try to take over my mind. Taking my best guess, I decided enough time had passed that I was willing to risk it, and if I guessed wrong, well it wouldn’t be the first time I’d caused myself pain in the name of stupidity.

I empowered the destruction ritual, feeding it a small portion of power that would draw out raw materials at a steady rate to feed to the regrowth rune. Gritting my teeth, I propped the stump of my leg under the effective range of the heat rune and hit it with power, instantly melting away the skin.

Euphoria poured into my body as the pain raced up my nerves into my brain but was intercepted by the effects of the Hero Root. Elation flooded my mind, replacing the pain, and making me crave more. More pain. More elation. Then more pain. The feedback loop pushed my mind further and further away from reality, building up in me a feeling of invincibility. The muscles in my neck and face distorted from the sheer power of the grin trying tear my face apart and I only held in a primal scream with sheer willpower.

I leveraged that same willpower I had honed over many years, sharp as a razor, to reign in the rampaging effects of the root. Gradually leveling out my emotions and damping the enhanced emotions, I wrested control of myself away from the effects of the root, painstakingly stuffing my mind back into a semblance of normalcy.

The end of my stump was a mess of melted flesh and burnt edges, but that was exactly what I needed. I empowered the regrowth rune, hitting it with my intent to change its purpose, then imposed my willpower to make it a reality. At the same time, I drew a mental connection between the cloud of material produced by the destruction ritual and the regrowth rune, completing the cycle.

The grisly wound slowly healed over, the repurposed regrowth rune rebuilding the foundation of my leg, piece by piece, using the pig leg as the building blocks. The healing process nauseated me, not because of any side effects of the power, but the patchwork healing reminded me of fungus spreading out to take over its host.

The rune ran out of area to heal as it had fully capped the end of my leg with new skin. It was also almost imperceptibly longer than it had been.

Taking a deep breath, I seared off the skin once more, fought down the euphoria of the root again, and activated the regrowth. And then did it again.

And again.

I repeated the process until my mind was a tangle of conflicting sensations of pain and euphoria, constantly battling with myself to maintain control and continue the next iteration. Eventually, I lost count of how many times I’d fried the end of my gradually lengthening leg, but by the time I had enough mental space to stop to look, a significant chunk of leg had appeared. Brand new skin, bone, and muscle stretched halfway down my shin.

I took a shaky breath, rivulets of sweat trickling down my face. At some point, nosy people had broken into the room. Kan’on sat cross-legged against the wall, eyes closed as if in deep concentration or unwilling to look at the mess of my leg. Jass leaned against the wall nearby, unperturbed as my tortured body rebelled against the strain I’d put it through. Judging by the scars lurking beneath the plain clothing he wore, he’d been through enough of his own painful trials to not be overly concerned with something like searing off your own meat for half a day.

Surprisingly, Kayla had come, sequestering herself deep in the corner as far away as she could get but still be in the same room. Interesting. Maybe she’d come just in case I screwed up and let myself bleed out. She had tried to tell me that she didn’t hold any grudges against me, but I didn’t believe it for a second. After all, I was the source of all pain in her life. Perhaps I was being a bit too arrogant. Twenty years could hide all kinds of scars.

The effects of the root had finally worn off and I’d only completed restoring half my missing leg. I considered trying to get up to prepare another batch, but realized I’d rather suffer through the pain than have to struggle to maintain my sanity the whole time. Slumping back against the bed frame, I examined my ‘supporters’, those who’d come to witness something they’d though impossible, or to gloat at my pain. Maybe both.

Nobody offered me words of support, just continued on as they had been. Jass, at least, gave me a nod. He probably just wanted to sate his curiosity, as I’m sure he’d seen some crazy stuff over his years of being a Dog Soldier.

I clenched my teeth, looked back at the half-regrown stump of my leg, and activated the searing heat rune once again. The lack of immediate pain caught me by surprise, maybe my body had adjusted to the pain while under the effects of the root. The newly melted skin didn’t send waves of agony searing up my leg, just a dull heat, throbbing to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Letting the damage sink in too long seemed like a bad idea, so I immediately pumped power into the regrowth rune and discovered where the main source of the pain I’d been missing.

I screamed. Not the euphoric, invincible scream that resulted from the effects of the Hero Root, but a raw and ragged cry of pure, searing agony. The regrowth rune sucked up raw materials from the pig leg and each stitch of new skin and muscle felt like being stabbed by thousands of needles, over and over again until all of the skin on the stump and the flesh beneath were injury free once again.

I repeated the process dozens of more times, this time without the buffer of the root to hide the pain, nor the fight to maintain my sanity. Time blurred. My companions came and went. At some point I found my hands filled with food and water, tasteless in my state, but welcome nonetheless. Only Jass had the wherewithal to think about anyone other than himself, so I’d have to make sure to do something to thank him later, not that there was a whole lot I could do for the man.

Sometime later I realized that the regrowth rune had stopped pulling in new material and couldn’t find anything on my body to latch onto. Groggily, I propped myself up and looked at the work of a day, a fully regrown shin and foot. Something that I’d never seen a single other person accomplish. Something that if I weren’t already the Kingdom’s most hated man, would bring me untold riches. I had no need for riches though. I didn’t want to end up like Clyde, all shine, no brains.

I wiggled my toes. They felt like my toes, but everything stung with tiny needles, like it had fallen asleep and had just come awake with new flood flow. The brand new, bleach white skin didn’t look anything like the dark and weathered skin of my other foot, but that would come with time. I’d ran around a few years back with half a new hand, looking like I’d sewn on a replacement until the sun and calluses had worn it in enough to look just as terrible as the original.

Although I felt like I’d just run forty miles, and if I thought about how much power and energy I’d used over the course of the day it might be close, I levered myself to my feet to test out the new appendage. Jass, dependable as ever, leaned in to give me something to steady myself as I tested the tingly new foot.

It didn’t take long to get the feel of it, it wasn’t like I’d actually sewn someone else’s foot onto my leg. The soul dictated what shape the regrown limb would take, and since it was my soul and my leg, there shouldn’t be a problem. If I were younger and more prone rapid muscle gain and loss, it might have come out a little unbalanced.

The pins and needles disappeared after a few minutes of pacing back and forth, parading myself in front of Kayla as if to rub my injury free leg in her face. As expected, the head and face coverings she wore hid any reaction she would have had, taking a step out of my strut.

“You’re like a cockroach,” Kan’on said from his seated position against the wall, eyes still closed. “Every time I think you couldn’t possibly come back from an injury, you pop up at the last second, perfectly fine, and scurry off to cause more trouble.”

“How long did it take you to come up with that? I’d heal your sense of wit for you, but I can’t heal what you never had to begin with.” I smirked, knowing he’d see it even with his eyes closed. Martial cultivators always had dumb tricks like that right?

I clapped Jass on the back, giving him a nod of thanks, and swiped my hand through the runes still hovering in the middle of the room. The act of swiping did nothing, of course, but I couldn’t just end my grand recovery without a bit of flair. With a mental filament, I pulled apart the ritual construct and it collapsed into a glittering cloud, fading away to nothing. The only evidence of the activities of the day was the picked over pig leg, mostly destroyed by the ritual.

“Since you guys sat around watching me torture a new leg out of myself all day, that means we have to work twice as hard to get ready to go into the Labyrinth.”

“Count Orleander already took care of all the specifics, and your demands,” Kayla said. “He didn’t think you’d be able to do it, to grow a new foot. Nobody did, really.”

“Yeah well, I’m used to being underestimated. It’s not my fault if everybody is surprised that I’d do exactly as I said I would. Where are the supplies?”

Orleander kept proving himself to be mostly everything I hadn’t attributed him with when I’d first met him; dutiful, respectful, proactive. Now if only I could convince him to stop being so depths taken wasteful with his wealth.

“He prepared them in the courtyard. It’s already late afternoon, we don’t have too much longer to prepare if we’re going to get to the Labyrinth entrance before the Inculid send out something new.”

“Well, as fun as it is having you all crammed into my room, you need to scram so I can put some clothes on and get cleaned up. I’ll meet you all down there in a half hour.”

Kayla didn’t have any trouble leaving, she’d made it all the way out to the hallway before the words were half out of my mouth. Jass, tight lipped as ever, just nodded and left to make his own preparations.

“As incredible as the thing I just saw you do is, I doubt that it left you as refreshed as a newly bloomed spring flower. You look like you’ve taken two laps through the depths. Should we wait until tomorrow before we attempt this, to give you some more time to recover?” Kan’on asked, unmoving.

“I need more time than we have, to recover fully. A few hours sleep isn’t going to make a huge difference. I’ll just load myself up on refresh runes until we get into the Labyrinth and we can block whatever nasties are coming up from getting out.”

Kan’on just sighed and stood smoothly to his feet, composed and as put together as always, his ever-present sword propped on his shoulder. He made his way to the door but stopped before leaving.

“You know, even someone like me knows the value of rest. We are taught that sometimes you need to stop or slow down to consolidate everything you’ve learned, to let your body recover, to balance your mental state. If you keep going like you have been, you’re going to break yourself in ways you might not be able to heal as easily as that leg.” With that splash of wisdom, he left the room.

“That’s easy for you to say, when you have the backing of what is likely the most powerful martial school on the continent. Convenient even.” But I spoke to empty air, Kan’on was long gone.