He quickly ran out of paper, and digging through the writing desk’s many drawers led him to use a spare clear journal he found therein for his decoding efforts.

Therefore, I believe that the contemporary understanding of Azoth as a concept is flawed. The primordial mercury of life occurs naturally contained within gemstones because the bodies and souls of its bearers are incapable of truly becoming as one with the substance, and thus create a secondary shell of solid essentia around the mercurial essence - both as a means of separating from it and allowing them to interface with it as necessary.

I propose a theory that to fully become as one with Azoth, an individual must be made anew with the purpose of such a feat. I propose that not only is the cultivation of a supreme Azoth unnecessary for transcendence of human limitations, but that it is a hazardous endeavor that will inevitably lead one to hubris and self-destruction, as has been shown time and time again by the heroic lineages of the old powers. The more refined they are, the further back they stretch, the more debaucherous and degenerate their lifestyles become, and the more disdainful of the common man they grow.

I believe that this is the reason behind the superiority of the Divine Emperor of Pateiria, and that his voyage into the Sea of Fog in fact resulted in his ability to directly consume primordial mercury as fuel for his vast capabilities. Therefore, the conclusion is obvious - the Divine Emperor lied about his methods of self-cultivation in order to prevent others from achieving a higher state of existence.

The bathroom was surprisingly similar to that in the inn, just… More. The room itself and the bathtub were both bigger, but the entire interior including the appliances were clearly the same designs and most likely the same manufacturer. 

“Find the medical kit please,” Zel asked as she handed the tablet to her counterpart before she began undressing. First the arm-harness, then the cleaver in its holster, then everything else, save for her chest bindings. In the span of a few minutes, she was sitting up to her waist in hot water over whose surface a layer of silver Fog roiled. She slowly, ever so slowly pulled the wrappings from her flesh, long strands of half-congealed blood stretching between the fabric and her wounds as if some sort of organic glue. Even Zelsys found this strange, fully aware of the fact human blood did not act like this when congealed. 

A deep breath in, a deep breath out, small sips of Liquid Vigor inbetween. Though she was able to bear a great deal of pain, she was more than happy to numb herself to it with Fog-breathing techniques and pain-killing substances. Still, the sting of alchemic disinfectant in the gashes on her sides was intense enough to make her hiss out in pain. Zef’s concerned looks only served to make her grin and bear it through the pain, reassuring that “It’s fine, just make sure it’s clean.”

She wasn’t quite sure what the substance was, but it burned like high hell even through the Fog-intoxicated stupor. 

“Lift your arm a little higher, please,” Zef asked, and she did as she was told, stretching her wounds open with the motion. 

“Homunculus Eye…” the cyclops uttered, leaning in further over the edge of the tub to get a good look at her wounds. She squinted, furrowed her brow, and surprisedly remarked, “Looks like the muscle fibers are already reconnecting, no scar tissue at all… Don’t think I’ll even need to stitch you up. How much Liquid Vigor did you drink?”

“Uh… Half a bottle, I think?” Zel wagered, then turned to the markswoman with a mischievous grin. “Does that mean you won’t kiss it all better?”

“Really? You’re doing this now?” the blonde admonished, soaking a fresh ball of cotton in disinfectant before somewhat forcefully swiping it against Zel’s wounds with a pair of medical tweezers.

“I’m about a-as close to be-eing at your mercy as I could get,” she responded, briefly hissing in pain at every swipe as the aggressive liquid burned away more than just the bacteria in her wounds. It felt, and to some degree smelled like it was partially cauterizing the wounds with a mere touch. “M-maybe making horny comments is a defense mechanism.”

“Sure it is, and I’ve secretly got a second working eye,” Zef chuckled, only half-jokingly. Zel started to gently pull away the rest of the bandages as the water reached her chest and melted them away, baring her claw-scored flesh plainly to see. Whilst Zef squinted at the deep stab wounds in the amazon’s back, she leaned forward in the bath and shut the water valve, stretching her wounds open to a point where her back began to bleed again.

Before she could return to a relaxed position, she heard the words, “Wait, hold on, stay like that.”

There was the squeaking of leather and clattering of metal, and she felt a metal tool slip deep into one of the stab wounds on her back, stretching it open. It was followed by long tweezers, which pulled out of the wound a stinging fragment that she hadn’t noticed through the rest of the pain before. 

“Is this… A fingerbone?” Zef’s bewildered voice questioned, and Zel saw her turning it around and examining it when she finally leaned back.

She squinted at it, cocked her head to the side, and nodded, “Uh-huh, pretty sure. Fucker got his claws in me before I kicked him away, pretty sure a couple broke off inside.”

“What was the beast anyway?” the markswoman questioned, dropping the fingerbone onto the bathroom floor and picking up the cotton ball again, continuing to press it into her wounds to let the vile disinfectant seep in. All in all it was rather awkward, and it quickly became obvious that she couldn’t easily reach Zel’s back without painfully pressing her arm against the edge of the tub.

“Some poor soldier that had used an old ritual to turn himself into a man-eating monster just before the end of the war,” she said through a pained grin.