Filtering out the thoughts from my mind, I, once again, focused on the task at hand.

I reached out deep, not into the blackened veins, not the muscles that were slowly breaking down and making his entire back bleed. But rather the leech point.

It couldn't sustain itself for long, I was sure of it.

It must've lodged itself somewhere where it could slowly infect his entire body.

As if reading my thoughts, Arthur's crooked voice reached my ears. "It's by the coccyx."

"Human language, Arthur." I desperately cried out. How am I supposed to know what a coccyx is??

"Tail…bone. Right over the tailbone."

Without replying, I pressed my fingers even firmly as his body shuddered in pain once again, but he stayed silent.

My Arcanum brightened up the inside of his back, slithering like a snake from the upper side of his spine, using it as a guide, before eventually reaching all the way to the bottom.

Suddenly, my focus was shattered and my Arcanum retracted as a grey wisp burnt away at the slither I had formed.

"W-What?"

Arthur groaned. "I couldn't maintain… the spark." He spoke, out of breath. "Tell me when you are about to reach there."

"O-Okayy…"

Using the spine as a guide, once again, I reached out for the tailbone. I couldn't put my hand right over there. It was where it had latched itself. Placing it right over him will most likely result in something that just happened.

As it was about to reach the tailbone, I breathed out. "Arthur."

A small spark of azure flared to life, jumping from between his fingers and then seeping into his skin. The dark azure mixed in with the bright glow of my own Arcanum, giving it a slight cerulean shade. The area above his tailbone turned into a vermillion patch.

It was fighting the symbiote.

Pushing all of my Arcanum at once, I reached out for it.

It was like a snake fight. Two deadly snakes eating away at each other, and the one who eats the other one first wins. Arthur's spark was dwindling, but it was fighting with sheer resilience, not allowing it to cause a hindrance to my work.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Expanding the Arcanum was not an arduous task. But the after effects were quite dangerous. Expanding it inside him was like forcefully forming a cyst. It would bring him pain, yes, but not more than he currently is in.

"Hold on, Arthur." I called out to him, the drops of sweat stinging into my eyes. I forced them open, as wide as I could. The warm air and salty sweat made it feel like hot needles were being pricked into them.

I expanded it. Like a cloth cover over a bowl. Not only from above, but underneath as well. Arthur's spark fizzled away and then at the same time I pushed both sides.

Like a python, I squeezed it from every direction. I felt my spell burn, like branding a hole into pure flesh.

As my Arcanum continued to coil around it by forming a repeated loop, the pressure intensified, compressing the symbiote's form.

"URGH!" I grunted, pressing against it with all my might.

It struggled but it couldn't stop the deformation that had already begun. Its slime like form started to buckle and flatten, slowly but surely succumbing to the relentless compression, wrinkling and creasing.

And then suddenly Arthur heaved out a deep breath as a grey-wispy smoke rose up from his back, and then dissipated into thin air.

His blackened veins that bulged against his skin were enveloped into a mix of our golden and pure white sheens. A few fleeting seconds later, they began to sink back into the thin layer of muscle and fat. The blood loss was permanent but his wound that festered started to regenerate itself.

As I willed more of the First Phase of my Arcane Arts, muscles sewed themselves back into place and the cut skin started to mend itself.

Before long, his back was returned to how it used to be.

It took a few seconds to notice though, but there was a thin black line stretched from his shoulder to his tailbone in a diagonal arc.

A scar.

I felt my heart drop, but was at least thankful he survived.

"Arthur, it's done." I called out to him.

Perhaps it was childish of me to expect him to turn around and maybe- maybe compliment me. But he didn't. I called out for him a few more times but he didn't turn around.

Hesitatingly, I reached out for his shoulder and then pulled him so his face was up.

Arthur's body rolled over to my side, his head landing on my lap. His eyes were shut and his lips were parted. But his chest rose and fell peacefully. He was ok.

Brushing his hair back, I combed my fingers through them. They were dirty—caked with mud, grime and blood.

"Mm-" He shifted, opening his eyes and then blinked. Before I knew it, he was asleep again.

The realisation that he was shirtless and leaning against me dawned a bit too late on me and hit me a touch too hard as I suddenly stood up and his head fell on the ground.

Crap!

Panicking, I tried to look around, and then casted one sheepish look back at him. But he didn't wake up.

What's wrong with me!? Almost gave him a concussion!

My own face felt warm, as I tried to look for something soft to place underneath his head and to cover his body.

"Just put a rock underneath that big head of his." I almost jumped with fright as I saw Michael leaning against the jagged wall, right beside Arthur. He threw a black piece of clothing at me. It was the shirt I had packed for him. "Found this in his bag."

I picked it up but kept my eyes on him. They were at serious odds. He might be putting up a farce.

"Thanks…"

"Tsk. Whatever." He turned around and then stopped. "Just so you know I am here so don't bother doing anything to an unconscious person."

HUH!

"Do you perhaps take me for someone such as yourself?" I retorted.

"Hah! Weak comeback! Try again, kiddo, heh!" With an annoying, brattish chuckle, he walked with a wide stance, flailing his arms around.

God this guy… he pisses me off so much!