The phenomenon of filth occurred when mana was the exclusive means of sustaining the body. Mana itself lacked the capacity to perpetuate a physical body. Spirits who, by some dimension, had a physical form are the only ones who survived using mana, not the mana from the atmosphere—that is impossible, but by swallowing Condensed mana or Monster Cores. They did not form naturally. The only source to get condensed mana was through rituals. Monsters, however, subconsciously absorbed the mana and subliminally forged the monster cores.

Mana was not sustenance, as its nature was never one of substance. Like air, it was the life of a mage, but it could not replace food. But condensed mana, when used and channelled in a specific way through the body, mutates the body internally to that of a spirit, not a complete spirit, but an abomination born from a cross-bred taboo, capable of surviving on mana. It was not a blessing but a curse. Winny was a half-spirit, so she had a much-tamed reaction to filth, but even she was not safe from it. Iris was the opposite of safe—quite literally on the verge of begging for death.

When mana, more specifically, monster cores, are used as sustenance, they react with the body; a part of it turns into mana that could be used by the mutated body to sustain itself, and another part that was absorbed by the heart, slowly accumulating over time and finally overfilling the heart, leading to a violent repulsion that the healer calls an episode. The name was given due to how little research was done on it, or, to say, no research has been done on it as the subject never lived long enough to die.

Iris herself would’ve died if not for Winny, who was born in the labyrinth and knew how to mutate the body to sustain on mana without dying. Darkness: material form was practically useless in battle. Iris needed it to survive and keep Winny alive. Even so, it had limited use—yet Iris spent the better part of her journey in Labyrinth acquiring this element.

Iris barely made it to what she supposed was Diantha’s room. It was on the top floor. She left Winny with Diantha downstairs.

The first thing Iris did was untie her mother’s gift and toss it on the bed. It will be safe—as she sat on the floor, she felt criminal for ruining the soft and expensive carpet. But that was a worry so insignificant that it may not even exist.

Her hand turned black—a soft wisp of abyssal smog danced around her hand. Her palm became complete. The middle finger formed as if being woven by threads.

She clenched her hand, feeling completeness.

BADUMP!

Iris hissed and clenched her heart. She did not have much time.

Iris slowly sank her hand into her chest, with a bit of effort, like sinking into mud, and grabbed her barely beating heart. Her hand melted, turning into strings and began to meld in her heart. Her jaw clenched, and her teeth audibly crunched. I am used to it. It was her fourth episode.

To survive the episode, which may otherwise end with a blowing pulp out of her chest, she used threads made of darkness to strengthen her heart. It made her heart much more elastic and resistant, comparable to rubber. This transformed heart was capable of withstanding the repulsion that was to come.

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It was only possible because darkness was the only element a human could wholly become one with. Any other element, and she would die from trying before the episode had a chance.

This strengthened state would last 8 hours; she never took a chance on how long her episode would torment, even if one hour was the maximum it ever went. Iris pulled out her hand once her heart was black and capable of remaining one.

The darkness element she had had three uses: one was this strengthening, the other was pulling out mana, and the final was what she used to siphon filth from Winny’s body into hers. So, Winny never had the same reaction as she did on the first day and never had an episode. Because she was unsure if Winny, with even an enhanced heart, would survive an episode, even if she could, Iris’s heart wouldn’t be able to watch her writhe in pain.

Her hand turned normal.

“Void Room,” Iris said, tapping her palm on the floor. Ting. It was to silence her screams.

Now comes the most painful and miserable part.

Her hand turned black once again as a wisp of smoke rose. Iris drove her hand into her chest again. “ARGH!!” She did not need to stop her screams anymore. Her body began to glow purple. As the mana in her body crawled into one place, She pulled out her mana, leaving behind just enough that would exhaust her the moment she dispersed the ball in her hand. It was the same as Weaver’s orb. Smooth and gleaming.

Iris tapped the orb with her middle finger—made of mana.

Everything turned dark and muddy. The clothes, made of mana, vanished. Iris flopped on the floor. Without mana, she could not see. She was useless. She hated this feeling. But she had to let go of Mana. Because she would not be able to control it. The pain would consume her mind, and her mana would lash out everywhere, leaving a crater the size of this city. Unless, of course, Ilona controls it. Even so, that was a foolish idea. Even in the labyrinth she would create a barrier in the weakest monster’s zone and let go of her mana.

Badump!

Iris's chest is visible and expanded. She coughed up a glob of black miasma on the floor, followed by a scream. The amount of filth her body repulsed was substantially more than her total volume. She had no idea how it worked; her theory was that it was a small amount that would mix with blood and expand during the time of repulsion.

Her breath hitched as the black blood trickled through the crevices of her finely sewn eyes. She screamed but was broken by another repulsion.

“Ah….” She coughed. The red carpet was black. Her head pounded. It was painful. She already wanted it to end. She coughed out again, the mixture of blood and taboo.

Her hand shot up at her neck; the agony was just beginning, yet it was too much to bear. She wanted to end it. She tried to end it with as much strength as her four-fingered, bony hand could muster. It was not enough.

She did not wish to live; the pain was unbearable. She wanted to save Winny and end this misery. The price of life was so high that it was worthless. Death would be a respite, ease of her suffering.

Her body twisted as blood stopped flowing, and her chest inflated. It was at this instance, she should’ve died, except she wouldn’t. She so dearly wished for it. One day. She screamed in her mind. She would have rested.

“A…a…ah,” her lungs lacked air to scream, only whimpering moans. In this darkness, where she could see nothing, she could do nothing, and only pain was her companion—She saw death as the light, something that would provide ease in this hell. Even saving—Winny began to slip. No—It had already slipped when she first coughed. She tried to strangle herself again. And again, and again. Until the hand was covered in black blood that came out of its pores. Until she lost the strength to clench her hand.

Nothing. She was alone in this darkness, where even death eluded her.

The Fate of Suffering—You’re born with eyes that Ever Sky weeps in sympathy for, a fate where every living moment shall make the death evermore enticing. I shall take your eyes, may it lessen your suffering.

It did not. Why?! Why did you not kill me, Mother?!

I begged her to let me live. I wish I had n— AH!!

Her chest inflated again, and she vomited more blood. Filth. The taboo. A curse given to her by her most beloved. Her Winny’s gift.

Death, embrace me... I beg... of... AHH!

….