Chương 175

The flight back to the Sanctum's forward camp was a blur of rushing wind and dawn's colors, but Orion couldn't focus on them, as his temples throbbed intensely. He had expected the mana cost of [Collapsing Wormhole] to be high, but he hadn't anticipated the mental backlash. Tearing a hole in the fabric of local space, no matter how small and fleeting, had left his mind feeling like a chalkboard scraped aggressively with a rusty nail.

His cognitive processes were slow, and his usually sharp internal monologue was reduced to a low hum of exhaustion. In truth, he wasn't flying his broom so much as leaning on it, and if not for Asteria's stabilizing charm tethering his handle to hers, he might have fallen into a tree.

"Stay with me, moonbeam," Asteria's voice cut through the static, now less teasing as it was clear he was beyond exhausted.

"Do not pass out before we land. I am not carrying you into the camp like a sack of potatoes."

"I am not… passing out," Orion mumbled, forcing his eyes to focus on the horizon, finally noticing that the dark splotch ahead wasn't more forest.

"I am merely… conserving energy."

"Just keep your eyes open. We're here." The camp was a vast network of tents and magical barriers located in a hidden valley. Even with the sun fully risen, the light here stayed muted, filtered through the thick gloom hanging over the Twilight Lands' domain behind them. They landed close to the center of the formation, and Orion's prosthetic foot hit the ground, causing his knee to buckle. For once, the fault wasn't the enchantment's fault. He was simply too tired. Asteria grabbed his elbow with an iron grip.

"Easy. Fighting for your life is a powerful stimulant, but the crash is always proportional to the height." The universe requires balance in exchange for seemingly divine power. At least it's not mana burn this time. He grimaced as the stone foot chafed against his stump.

"Let's get this over with."

"We still have a couple of hours," Asteria corrected, guiding him toward the largest tent.

"Which gives us just enough time, as long as you don't waste it arguing." She pushed aside the heavy flaps of her personal quarters, revealing that the space had been expanded and was large enough to hold a full laboratory, a library, and a living area. In the center of the room, a large black-iron cauldron sat over a heatless blue flame, already bubbling with a clear, viscous fluid. She was prepared for my success. Or was confident enough that she could step in and save the day, I guess.

Two young witches stood at attention near the workbench. They looked to be in their late teens, wearing the grey robes of acolytes from the Potions Department, and seemed caught between nerves and awe as the Veil Priestess entered.

"Elder," they chorused, bowing low.

"Elara, Sola," Asteria acknowledged them with a nod, guiding Orion to a plush, high-backed chair near the cauldron.

"Be sure to observe closely. Today we are going to brew something most witches never come close to achieving." The two girls hurried to grab their parchment and quills, positioning themselves to get the best view of the process. Orion sank into the chair and exhaled softly. He looked at his mother with tired eyes.

"An audience? Really?"

"Knowledge stagnates if it isn't shared," Asteria said, and he couldn't really say anything to that, could he?

"And if I'm going to brew a Tier Four elixir in a field tent, someone should be around to witness the miracle." She knelt before him.

"Leg." Orion lifted his left leg, allowing Asteria to unfasten the straps of the stone prosthetic until it came off.

"Eire did good work," she murmured, weighing it in her hands.

"It has absorbed a significant amount of your mana signature over the last week."

"I've been fiddling with it," Orion admitted, rubbing his sore stump.

"That will help us," Asteria said, standing up. She moved to the cauldron.

"To an alchemist, this is a sympathetic link. It is the ghost of the limb you want to restore, which will allow the connection to form much faster." To Orion's surprise, she didn't throw away the prosthetic. Instead, she put it into a heavy mortar, raised a pestle that shimmered with reinforcement magic, and brought it down with a crack that made the apprentices jump. She ground the stone, which was surprisingly brittle under her magic, into a fine, sparkling dust.

"The first principle of restoration," she lectured, not looking at the girls but clearly addressing them.

"Is that the body must be reminded of what it has lost. Unlike healing magic, we are fighting against the body's memory here. Every connection must be used." She threw the dust into the bubbling cauldron, and the clear liquid hissed, turning a muddy grey. Orion activated [Hypotheticism], feeling his headache intensify, but he ignored it, pushing his perception forward. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. What he observed was that the stone dust wasn't melting.

Instead, it was being suspended in a mana solution, forming a spell-like structure. The residual mana in the stone, his mana, was acting as a blueprint. Clever. She's using the 'memory' of the prosthetic to define the boundaries of the regeneration and act as a symbol of what I lost.

"Now," Asteria said, her voice dropping an octave.

"The catalyst." She produced the Amber-Heart Mold. In the faint light of the tent, the fungus glowed a soft orange and was clearly magical. The apprentices leaned forward, breathless. Asteria held it over the cauldron and began to chant, though for once, it wasn't the rhythmic prayer of the Sanctum's usual rites, but rather a low, humming vibration.

Orion watched the sound waves ripple through the air, and it took him several seconds to trace their path until he realized she was affecting the mold's fibers, breaking them apart and ensuring it would absorb completely. With a gentle movement, she started to squeeze the fungus, using mana to draw out a golden, honey-like liquid. Drop by drop, the nectar dripped into the grey sludge. Orion kept a record of everything that happened, regardless of how little he understood about the process's theory.

The enzymes in the mold reacted with the base fluid, causing rapid oxidation and intense heat. The grey structure absorbed the gold, turning pink until its hue and color resembled human flesh.

"Temperature control is paramount," Asteria said, her eyes glowing a molten silver.

"Too hot, and the enzymes denature. Too cold, and the sympathetic link shatters." She moved her hands over the steam, weaving a spell that acted as a thermal regulator.

"Now for the last ingredient," she said, and before anyone could realize what she was about to do, she slashed her forearm and bled freely into the potion. The liquid in the cauldron began to swirl violently, shifting from pink to purple, then to a deep, vibrant crimson. The scent hitting Orion's nose was unpleasant, reminiscent of copper, cooked meat, and ozone; it was life in its most intense, volatile state.

"Elara," Asteria snapped as the gash healed.

"The stasis jar. Now." The apprentice fumbled but managed to hand over a crystal vial. Asteria dipped it into the cauldron, capturing the swirling crimson liquid just as it reached a critical luminosity. She capped it instantly, sealing the reaction inside. The remaining liquid in the cauldron instantly turned into inert black sludge as the magic she was using to sustain it was depleted. Asteria turned to Orion, clutching the vial. The liquid inside was thick and gooey, promising to be tough to swallow.

"That," Orion whispered, "was crazy."

"It's worth more than an entire manse in Valderun," Asteria said with a tired smile, handing it to him.

"Drink all of it, and don't vomit, or I will be very upset." Orion uncorked the vial, and the fumes alone made his eyes water. This is going to hurt. I doubt even a tier four potion can make the process of rapidly regrowing a limb comfortable. He still downed it in one gulp. It didn't taste like a potion at all; instead, it was more like biting into a live wire covered in raw steak. Orion gagged as the thick fluid slid down his throat. Then, it hit his stomach and exploded.

"Grah!" He gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. Heat. Intense, searing heat flooded his veins, rushing downward. It bypassed his heart, his lungs, his right leg, and pooled entirely at his left ankle.

"Watch," Asteria commanded the girls.

"The reconstruction is always a chaotic process. The body knows the shape, but the energy must be violent to overcome the long absence." Orion looked down, feeling that something more was about to happen, and a moment later, his stump burst open. It began with the bone. He heard a wet, grinding crack as his tibia and fibula suddenly extended, shooting out into the empty air.

"Nnngh!" Orion grit his teeth so tightly he thought they'd break. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to endure it. Next came the muscles and tendons. They wriggled out from under his skin like red snakes, lashing around the new white bone and making audible squelching sounds as they knitted together. The pain was intense, with every nerve ending that grew firing a distress signal to his brain all at once. God… damn… it! The foot began to take shape.

It looked like a flayed anatomical model, a gruesome sculpture of raw meat and bone hanging in the air, but it was recognizable, especially as the toes formed, popping into existence one by one. The apprentices looked a little queasy. One of them covered her mouth.

"Don't look away," Asteria ordered softly.

"This is the miracle of life. It is messy, and it is painful, but nothing compares to it in the material world." Finally, new skin flowed down the limb in a pale tide, covering the raw red muscle and sealing over the toes, the ankle, the heel. The heat disappeared as fast as it came, leaving Orion gasping, his chest heaving, and his clothes soaked in sweat. He stared. There, attached to his leg, was a foot. It was a bit pinker than his other one.

The skin was smooth, without the moles or calluses that marked his right foot, but it was still clearly his.

"Wiggle your toes," Asteria said gently. Orion sent the command. The neuron fired, traveled down the sciatic nerve, bridged the gap that had been severed for weeks, and reached its terminal point. His big toe twitched. He let out a laugh, unable to stop himself as his body recovered from the intense shock.

"Stand up," Asteria said.

"Your center of balance will have shifted. The stone was heavy; flesh is lighter." Orion grasped the armrests and cautiously pushed himself up, placing the new foot on the rug. The sensation was overwhelming. The stone prosthetic had been cold and lifeless, only allowing him to feel pressure but nothing from the ground. Now, he could sense the texture of the rug, the air's temperature near the floor, and how his weight was distributed.

He wobbled, his arms flailing slightly as his brain frantically sought a new balance. I need to recalibrate my proprioception, he realized, though a giddy smile was fighting its way onto his face. Adjusting for mass differences and arch flexibility would have taken months on Earth. Here, I feel like I can go back to it. In fact, I feel better than ever. He took a step. Then another. He didn't limp, and his stride was smooth. His ankle flexed, absorbing the impact, storing kinetic energy, and releasing it.

It was like a biological spring, a marvel of evolution he had taken for granted until he lost it. He bounced on the balls of his feet, testing the tensile strength of the new tendons.

"Something's different," he muttered, pulling up his interface. System Notification +5 Body"I knew it," Orion grinned, as he clenched and unclenched his new toes.

"And I can run again."

"The elixir should have gotten you at least four points," Asteria said, corking the empty vial and handing it to the stunned apprentices to clean.

"Though only because your class isn't Body-focused. Had it been to restore your Attunement, you wouldn't have gained any." As she reached out and gently cupped his cheek, he noticed she looked weary, her mana reserves clearly drained from the brewing, yet her eyes sparkled with pride.

"You deserve this, moonbeam." Orion gazed at her. For a moment, the scientist vanished, and he was just a son whose mother had worked hard to heal.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet. Asteria chuckled, tapping his nose.

"You are very welcome. Now, put on some boots. The army waits for no one, not even us." Orion moved to his trunk. He grabbed the sturdy leather boots he bought in Valderun with Ophelia, which he hadn't been able to wear properly since the accident. It was a snug fit thanks to the stiff leather, but the sensation of wrapping his foot felt grounding, and he smiled as he laced it up tightly.

The fatigue from the space magic still lingered, hidden in the back of his mind, but the physical relief was so intense it felt like a second wind. He felt light. A deep sound echoed outside the tent, the blast of a great horn, followed by the thud of hundreds of boots hitting the dirt.

"It is time," Asteria said, her demeanor changing instantly from mother to Veil Priestess. She threw a heavy cloak over her shoulders.

"It is time we get some answers from the Tower of Ambition."