Sen closed his eyes and sorted through what he could. Bits and pieces of the flesh golem’s memories. When he’d told the creature that killing Sen within that temporal world would grant him power, he’d meant it. But the same worked in reverse as well. The flesh golem knew little magic, nothing he hadn’t learned from the battle against Sen at least. But he did have an intuitive knowledge of manipulating flesh. It was as if Sen had gained a decade's worth of knowledge of flesh sculpting. He had no intention of creating golems of his own. At least, not ones made of human flesh, but for his purpose, this would work well enough. 

He hurried toward Dasai. Alari was still clinging to him. 

How much time has passed?

[You’ll be cutting it close.] 

Sen nodded. “I need room to work,” he said. 

Alari blinked. “You said you couldn’t help him.”

“At the time, I couldn’t. I needed to learn more first. I’ve done that now.”

“How—”

Sen stared at her. “If I take the time to explain it, he’ll be dead. If you want Dasai to survive, you need to trust me and give me space.” He looked over his shoulder. “Orttha, guard the door. If I’m interrupted, he’ll be lost.”

Orttha nodded, his book of hybrid stats was on his back. But he now held the journal Sen had slipped from his temporal world. The Journal of Temporal Spaces. He’d have to make sure Orttha kept that knowledge to himself. He was already doing more reading than guarding as it was. 

Alari pushed herself away and leaned against the wall nearby. He didn’t have much time, but Sen spared a second to run a Total Restoration spell over her leg to ease her pain. Then he turned to the half-formed flesh golem that had spilled out of the tank during the fight. Sen sighed. He ran his senses through it to search for what he needed. Spare organs, skin, blood vessels, even blood itself. The flesh golem was an amalgamation of spare parts, parts that Dasai desperately needed. He worked on repairing the damage to Dasai’s heart first. As he did, the flesh golem’s knowledge of the human body flowed through him. It wasn’t a medical understanding. If anything, the creature had figured out how to efficiently patch wounds that shouldn’t be fixable. Tearing pieces off one heart to mold them to another shouldn’t be possible. At least he hadn’t thought so until this moment. It might have been easier to replace the heart it its entirety, but Sen wasn’t going for easy. He wanted to save as much of Dasai’s original body as possible. It was bad enough that he was repairing the boy with stolen parts. The least Sen could do was preserve what he could. 

“Tutor?” 

[We’re beyond optimal time now. We need to finish quickly.]

Sen nodded. Time was never going to be on their side. If he took much longer, Dasai would lose part of himself. That wasn’t acceptable. That wasn’t total victory. He was more confident now, more trusting of his stolen memories. Even under the effects of Time Crawl Maxima and Dextrous Hand Maxima, Sen wasn’t moving quickly enough. 

What was worse, the longer he worked, the more he noticed the spare flesh being less submissive to his workings. The red solution must have some sort of preserving effect, and the flesh had been out of it for too long. It didn’t matter. If he didn’t finish now, it would all have been for nothing. But Dasai still wasn’t whole. 

Sen reached over and sifted through the flesh; his memories told him what was still useful and what wasn’t. He piled it into the openings in Dasai’s body recklessly. 

Alari looked at him with disgust. “What are you doing?”

Sen didn’t answer. He didn’t want to give her an answer she really wouldn’t like. The truth was, he was gambling. But he was betting on himself, and those were bets he liked. 

When he was done, he held up a hand. “Total Restoration Flesh Share-Maxim!” 

The openings in Dasai’s body began stretching to pull themselves closed. Smaller wounds fixed themselves easily. But the gaping hole in his core struggled to heal until, eventually, the flesh piled inside his body moved. Total Restoration allowed the body to repair itself with its own resources, slightly enhanced by magic. This modifier he’d made on the fly allowed it to do so with stolen resources. 

Thankfully, it worked. 

It took longer than usual, but after a few minutes had passed, Dasai looked good as new. And fortunately, he didn’t look like some flesh golem monster man. His body looked completely normal. 

Alari looked Dasai over. “He’ll live?” she asked, looking up at Sen.

Sen nodded. “He’ll live.”

Alari let out a breath. “Then I owe you. Twice now. Once for helping me regain Flamesaber, and again for saving my friend.”

“You helped me fight. We’re even.”

Alari shook her head. “I don’t do favors. I’ll pay you back.”

Sen nodded at that. He expected nothing less from the daughter of a warlord; she had a reputation to maintain, after all. But it paid to be polite. When he called in that favor now, she’d be more likely not to grumble about it.

“I distinctly recall you offering me your sword,” Sen reminded her. 

Alari didn’t react, but he could sense her mana in turmoil inside her. “Then take it.”

Sen shook his head. “I already have a sword. I was just surprised you’d give it up so easily.”

“The life of a friend is worth far more than any material thing. Even one as precious as her,” she said. He could hear the relief in her voice that he hadn’t taken her up on the offer. He was certain that Malleore had learned how to do the whole ‘flaming sword’ thing after she used it. His intentions behind letting her borrow it weren’t all pure. His sword could adapt quite well. He hadn’t just gained a flaming sword, he’d gained a flaming bow, spear, hammer, and whatever else he could bend it into. It was quite a gain for him. Alari didn’t know it, but she’d paid him back many times over already. Still, he’d take her up on that favor one day. She was too important not to. 

“Dasai should wake soon. When he does, get him out of here,” Sen said.

Alari shook her head. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“The other students still need help. He needs rest. But we don’t have time for that. Sikar and the others are guarding the portal. When they see you, they’ll help. Just…don’t take too long, and don’t take unnecessary risks,” he told her. “Good luck, Alari.” 

He turned, and Orttha waited for him by the door. “Ready to go?” the librarian asked.

Sen arched a brow. “Thought you might stay here and protect them.” 

Orttha scoffed. “Protect her? If I stay, she’ll be the one protecting me. Oh, I almost forgot. Give me one moment.” Orttha hurried to the back of the room and ripped open a temporal world. He started scooping books from the shelves recklessly. “Sorry babies, but I’m kind of in a hurry. We’ll get you situated properly soon!” Orttha sung. 

Sen sighed. “Kiss of Wind Maxim,” he said. Every book, journal, and stray stack of papers flew into Orttha’s portal. “Let’s go already,” he said.

Orttha rubbed his hands together. “You’ll have to teach me that one too!” 

When the flesh golem had sensed Milim, he’d been looking up. It was time for them to climb as well. The stairway wasn’t far, and before they knew it, they’d reached the fourth floor. 

“Any idea where we’re going?” Sen asked as they ran.

“My previous journey ended abruptly on the last floor. I’m afraid I can’t say,” Orttha called back. 

Each step was padded with the same thick brown carpet that the rest of the castle was covered in. It was like the harpy god wanted his followers to have this constant feeling of walking through his fur. It was bizarre. 

[When we build a castle, we can have furry white rugs! It’ll be like everyone’s strolling in your hair, master!]

“Adamantine Mind,” Sen said. Tutor had just earned himself a five-minute timeout. 

[That’s not fair at all.] He imagined Tutor saying. 

A group of cultists turned a corner hallway up ahead, and Sen and Orttha each split and took cover in decorative alcoves. Orttha nearly knocked over a vase with a dead plant inside it, but managed to catch it first. But it seemed the cultists weren’t after them. They turned into a room. Just as they entered, another cultist came flying out and smacked into the hallway wall. 

Orttha shot him a concerned look. 

Sen sighed and hurried along. They were getting close now. He could feel it. As they reached the room, the cultist who had been knocked into the wall was finally recovering. He looked up at Sen with wide eyes. Sen kicked him in the face. 

[Pleasant Dreams!] 

Sen scoffed. “How did—”

[You thought that little spell would imprison me forever? Nobody puts Tutor in a corner!]

“Mind Adamantine Maxim.” 

Tutor returned to his corner. 

Sen turned to look inside the room. The cultists stood in the center of another lab; this one looked almost like a surgery room. A leather bed had three rows of straps that were fastened over the man strapped to it. At least the cultists were trying to strap the familiar face to it. Snake wrestled with all his might. Whenever they wrestled one limb down, he freed another and struck at them. He kicked one brown-robed man in the chin, and the guy flew five feet into the air. When he hit the ground, he didn’t move. Sen was pretty sure Snake had broken his neck. 

Well, that was one student down. Now Snake could help them find the others. 

Sikar 

Susanna’s defenses were crumbling. The golden tower had new cracks forming by the minute, and the old ones were ever expanding. Even if she released it to form another one, as she had several times already, it was unlikely that it would be as durable as this one. She was quickly approaching her limit. Already the tower was much smaller than the castle she’d been able to create previously. Now only the ranged fighters waited within, firing off attacks whenever they found the spare mana. 

Sikar, Girch, and Laurette kept the tide at bay. Demons and cultists armed with a variety of weapons rushed them. From a distance, more demons threw shade flame, and cultists launched volleys of attacks. Giant golden arms stretched from the tower to swat them aside. Oliver returned blast of his own, canceling out what attacks he could muster the strength to. Marin unleashed her powers to infect the minds of their opponents. One cultist turned and started swatting another with his staff. A demon bit a cultist’s head clean off. Others sat down on the battlefield and started playing in the dirt. But even then, it was becoming too much. They were reaching their limits. When the ranged bombardment was too great, Mori got involved. Powerful techniques from the white-haired student wiped out the most dangerous attacks, sparing their allies from the brunt of it. 

Sikar swung his staff into a man’s windpipe. Girch swung a powerful arm and swatted aside a group of lesser demons. Laurette’s rapier flashed through the vital points of one opponent after another. The tide of enemies was endless. In his heart, he knew they wouldn’t be able to hold this portal much longer. The chances of them dying grew by the second. If Mori could focus on fighting, they might be able to hold out longer, but he was reaching his limit. Resurrection was costly, mana-wise, and he’d had to resurrect the others a lot before Sen and the others had arrived. 

A pulse of energy flooded the battlefield, and he nearly lost his footing. Girch did tumble over, and Laurette moved to cover him. The battle stopped as both sides turned to look up at the castle. In the sky above, a pillar of brown magic formed and shot directly upwards. Sikar’s heart tightened. 

“What was that?” Girch asked, regaining his footing. 

“The ritual has begun,” Sikar said. “They’re resurrecting Harpis.”