The cell turned out to stink worse after prolonged inhabitation. And by worse I mean it. Immortals actually didn't have this sort of problem as they are a very clean bunch.
But I wasn't exactly healthy, the ongoing blood-letting just left unsavoury stains and the youth... was mortal. Which translated to stinky, needy and ungainly most of the time.
Thinking of such, I shook my head absentmindedly without interrupting my work. My battered coat lay currently draped over a comparatively clean protrusion above the grid.
In other words, the only cover I enjoyed at the moment were some pants. But this had a very good reason, it wasn't any sort of nefarious intention that moved me to do such.
And more than that, it was completely dark in here, so nobody could judge me anyway. I had night vision, so should the youth. Being a catgirl and all...
But she was way too young to understand anything and rather clapped her hands weakly or rolled around in this heavenly abode, cleaning the ground.
There was just enough energy contained within her tiny frame that was needed to sustain base activity, or so the Great Consciousness whispered.
Another reason as to why I was so much on tenterhooks. Blood, piss, a mixture of various fungi, strange plants, ground bone dust and one whole haunting ghost had been mixed into an abyssal black tincture.
As this product couldn't be exposed to air for long without losing the meagre effects such lacking materials gifted the tincture with, I was assiduously at work painting on my body.
The Language of Old. Forbidden letters of raw power only a hanfdful remembered still. "World-ending knowledge is needed just to deal with yapping mortals."
My own voice made me realise just how wrong this was. A perversion of knowledge itself. An offence that went against everything I stood for.
Yet necessary. Inevitable. I begrudgingly went on to create some more paths in stable places in between the letters that would take in all the energy I was going to passively release.
The Language of Old preceded even magic itself. From my point of view, it was even correct to state that today's magic practice was an evolution in terms of application and stability.
At least with today's system, if a spell's execution fell flat, there was only a bit of backlash to suffer from. Sure, it hurt. Sure, it could be serious. But!
One mistake with the Language of Old and you'd be dead or, which was often the case, worse off than that. *Thump!*
I hastily finished drawing two opposing half-moons on the back of my hands that concluded the temporary enchantment before looking for the source of the noise.
Up in a corner, the youth had hit her head against the remaining pile of bones escaping my wrath. She was dazedly patting herself on the forehead, now sporting an impressive reddish bump.
As if her limited understanding could not comprehend what had happened to her... It was just ridiculous! A few seconds passed and silly me believed this was all to it before she started shrieking.
"WhhhuuuuUUUUUuuuOOOOaaaAAAAAAAhhhhHHHH!" Like a siren, her mighty vocal cords made the ground tremble and dust rise as I fell to my knees unceremoniously.
A second moment of pondering made me realise that it was only I who did all that on my own. The damn contract had once more exerted undue influence over me.
With difficulty, I literally rolled over, grabbing the culprit by her plump feet as I removed her from the lonely periphery of that skull.
It was only now I noted that it seemed to laugh at us, especially at me. The feeling only grew as my sudden movement impacted that pile of bones, making the skull turn my way as if it were still alive.
"Fucking shithole," I grumble for the umpteenth time. The place was just this short of turning into a negative field. When that happened, I'd be far gone, leaving Spice to despair over this mess.
And to guarantee just that, I had to behave. For now. While I knew I had to exercise patience and recuperate as best as I could, my very nature was no supporter of rationality.
I was a researcher, an adventurer through and through. And this... this place... this was a prison. Feeling the pain pierce my essence, I clumsily did what I saw mortals do often with their insufferable offspring in the oh-so distant past.
I rubbed the youth awkwardly on the bulgy spot on her face with one hand, using the other to tickle her stomach all the while she throned on my chest.
That didn't seem to be enough, as her brawling only intensified just as the stabs to my essence did. The sudden spike in danger to my persona got me thinking real hard.
Following a certain impulse even I didn't know from where it came from, I summoned my leathery wings and wrapped them all around us like wrapping paper, which calmed her down pretty soon.
This just proved that whatever mortals did wasn't as effective as it should be. My way of doing things had always been superior!
It certainly wasn't an instance of excessive clumsiness getting in my way. Surely not. "Just what am I gonna do with you?" I got no answer.
She was now stirring again and the Great Consciousness informed me of her hunger. But this time, I could only severely ration her... meal if I could call it such.
The intervals between each fight decreased tremendously the nearer we came to the championship. Especially in my case, where everyone seemed to have something against my winning streak...
There was no way I could allow myself an instance of weakness at the wrong time. The youth wasn't satisfied with what she got, but I didn't bulge.
Even the strain on my essence couldn't change my mind. She eventually grew tired and fell asleep in my arms.
I kept stroking her for a while longer, just in case. I used the remaining time I used to gain a clear picture of all options currently available to me.
I did what I could. Now it was up to a good dose of luck.