I will let you live. Stoke that hatred, become the fuel for my Karma.
Theron awoke with a start, the familiar words dancing in his mind's eye as though drawn in a cursive streak of blood. Sweat coated him from head to toe like beads of small reflective icicles.
It took a while for Theron's heart to slow to its usual crawl, his mind feeling foggy. His connection to the Mana around him, usually so bright and so very clear, felt like it was a world away, as though a fog was constantly hanging over it.
He sat up straighter, a splitting headache threatening to pierce his mind through.
It had been three days since he made it to this inn. In this time, he hardly did anything but eat and sleep, and even the former felt like something he could barely do sparingly.
He didn't know what Goddess Sacharro had done to his body, but what was clear enough to him was that everything he had been building toward felt like it had been torn down.
