Mika, unaware of the audience watching from the shadows, looked down at the bucket.
It was full now, overflowing with the meat he had carved from his own body.
The sight was gruesome, even to him. After all these weeks, after all these repetitions, he still wasn't entirely used to it.
He doubted he ever would be.
He waited for his legs to finish regenerating. When they were whole again, he tried to stand and immediately stumbled, his body betraying him.
"Dammit!"
The anti-mana field that saturated this place had always weakened him, but now it was worse than ever.
Every regeneration sapped his strength. Every amputation drained his reserves.
He was running on fumes, pushing himself forward through sheer stubbornness and the desperate need to protect the girl waiting for him on the other side of the fissure.
Anya.
The thought of her steadied him. He gritted his teeth and forced himself upright, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.
