First things first, Cira thought, vanishing from her library, I promised to fix Jimbo’s leg.

“—kay boys, I’m ready.” Jimbo’s chin dripped liquor as he pulled a bottle from his mouth, replacing it with a stick wrapped in leather. Captain Shores and four of the paladins held his body down, with Marco Held a roughly sharpened butcher knife above his shoulder ready to chop down on Jimbo’s leg.

Cira found herself in a building a few blocks away from the library, in the backroom of a building that looked like it was used as a temporary pub for the workers.

“Stop this at once!” Cira shouted, rustling a few papers around the room and making her men go pale. “Drop the knife, you idiot!”

Marco quickly did as instructed, and the Shores crew looked like they’d just been caught red-handed. Jimbo on the other hand, was a little upset, “Oh, what? I finally take matters into my own hands, and now you’re ready?!”

He spit out the stick and replaced it again with a bottle.

“I-It said we needed to cut back the leg to heal an open wound.” Marco’s eyes flitted to a book by Jimbo’s side.

“Indeed, that’s how it works typically, but his knees like right there…” She took the blade from his hands. It was indeed sharp but, “Are you going to slice a finger width off of his leg with this this?” Next, she picked up the book and started thumbing through it, “Does this really cover how to restore an entire limb?”

It was a book she didn’t recognize, but the section they were in was literally title, ‘Regenerating a Human Leg Below the Knee’. Flipping back to the table of contents, there was an entire section about restoring the knee itself, then more about the elbow, shoulder, or many other body parts.

Sensing her confusion, Jimbo sat up, “Kuja found it. Told me to give it to you, but I couldn’t find ya.”

That sounded like something he would do. “And were you paladins certain you could do it?”

A timid, “Maybe…” was drowned out by Oliver’s voice.

“We were going to give it our best shot!” a fist clenched, he looked Cira dead in the eyes with resolve.

She liked their enthusiasm, but “Obviously, I’m not going to let you guys experiment on Jimbo’s leg. Wait ‘til someone loses a finger or something.” They all deflated, but Jimbo at least looked relieved as he lifted the bottle, but no liquid came out. “And no more drinking. It thins your blood. You’re already going to be woozy enough when you have a whole new leg to fill.”

Cira concentrated until she could see her alchemy workshop and transported a handful of redcaps. “And eat these.” These helped the body produce blood. Not as well as the potion brewed from them, but Cira figured it would be fine.

“But I don’t like mushrooms—”

“Too bad.” Cira shoved them in his face and returned to the beginning of the section titled ‘Restoring a Human Leg From Below the Knee’ and started reading, “You paladins are welcome to stay and take this observation as a lesson if you want, but keep it down for a while.”

And they all sat in silence, aside from Jimbo who took a nap, while Cira spent the next hour reading. She occasionally nodded to herself, letting out a “hmm…” or a “mhm, I see…” every now and again until finally, the book slammed closed.

Cira had restored a couple fingers in the past, but each joint made it harder, then when those phalanges connect together to form a hand or foot which articulates through a wrist or ankle… each step got exponentially harder. That’s why she hadn’t attempted something like this before. If the paladins had failed, in the worst case it could leave Jimbo with serious nerve damage. Completely paralyzed, even.

But this book Kuja procured from the forbidden archive introduced the concept of corporeal linkage and forced her to remember how soul memory would be relevant here. The blueprint already existed to restore Jimbo’s leg and the human body, resilient as it was, would offer resistance if she tried to alter it incorrectly. This evidently applied to regenerated lost pieces as well. That resistance was something she never realized having only altered people with curses—there was no resistance, but it made sense that there would be.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got it, but we need to wake Jimbo up.” Corporeal linkage was stronger in a conscious body. Unfortunately for Jimbo, Cira wasn’t confident enough in her skills without the ability to feel it out. Shores splashed cold water on his face and the man woke with a start. “You ready? Get the stick.”

Cira held Prismagora up and it started gathering light as Jimbo frantically processed the situation, “H-hang on, can’t you put me to sleep first? You should have let me stay out!”

“Didn’t I tell you already?” Marco placed a supportive hand on his arm, “You need to be awake.”

“B-but I don’t want to be.” He accepted the stick and laid back down, more nervous than usual.

“Best I can do is induce hallucinations, but they won’t dull the pain.” Advanced illusions imbued with aether could actually trick the mind to some degree.

“I’m a big boy, just get the hell on with it!” He shouted through his teeth digging into the leather.

Alright then—

Prismagora flashed and a blade of light hit the table before a thin disk of flesh flopped over. Jimbo shouted, punched the table, and nearly clawed chunk out of Marco’s leg. He tried to kick around, but Cira wouldn’t allow his leg to move.

“Don’t worry Jimbo, it’ll be over quick.” She got to work, going so far as to conjure the holy scepter that hadn’t seen use since the infirmary of Fount Salt. This would help her control with anything related to healing, and the regeneration described in the book relied on holy mana, as expected. Lastly was the mithril ring Conduit which would push her control even further. She narrowed down all her spatial prowess as well down to just the fresh cut nub on Jimbo’s leg and became blind to all else.

It made Jimbo and the paladins nervous when she closed her eyes, but it was clear she was concentrating.

Cira could see the blueprint in her mind, though her goal was not a form of regression. She didn’t want to restore the leg he lost as a young man but make one akin to his other leg. Literally growing a new one.

The process started off easy as it was just a couple bones and some meat until the ankle. Muscles were tricky, but Cira didn’t let herself hesitate. With an even application of holy mana and will, she leaned into the corporea. Like a jigsaw puzzle built from one end to the other, the only way she could put it together wrong was if she forced something in. So, letting the mana linger on the ends allowed his muscle to regenerate to its would-be natural state based on the last few ‘pieces’ it was building off of. This was corporeal linkage.

The trick was letting this happen and not pausing the process. It may slow down greatly when she hit blank spots in her ability like this, but Cira quickly found a rhythm to it. It wasn’t like she consciously closed up wounds, after all. There was a certain synergy she found in letting the body take over when it could.

Alright ankle, work your magic. She looked at many different models within the book, and even compared them against his other ankle to build an image in her head, or perhaps somewhere in space. The only thing to do was recreate it with actual flesh and bone now.

Jimbo’s screams rang somewhere distant, but Cira’s entire mind was focused on the task.

First half of the joint looks good. Now just gotta fit this piece in and—man, ligaments are hard.

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

No matter, I’ll just slow it down.

Mhmm. A little more meat, and we’re on our way.

Cira was immediately discouraged though.

Feet are so dumb. Whose idea was it to put this many bones in them? All these stupid tendons are so delicate… I hope he doesn’t have a hobble when I’m done here.

As Cira felt it out, letting the corporea contribute in its own way, she did actually learn a bit that may make the next attempt go smoother. Most sorcery could call upon something like muscle memory, that was in a sense your brain committing to instinct feats of will which produced positive results.

I’m in the home stretch now. After all that, I feel like the toes are child’s play. I’ve only regenerated fingers before, but toes aren’t far off. They’re practically halfway built after putting his foot together. No need to rush things. I have this all under control.

The final step was finish off the nervous system. The book recommended beginners do this last, all at once, as it typically required the highest degree of concentration and meticulousness. The benefit otherwise would be completing the regeneration faster.

But this is fine. I don’t want to mess anything up. I’ll take it nice and slow. Jimbo will appreciate having a fully functioning leg.

She felt a little resistance, but it felt physical, from further up his body. Like he was squirming around or something.

Nerves were definitely the trickiest part of this all. Cira wasn’t entirely clear on how they worked as she was yet unstudied on the human brain. It seemed like a whole deal, but maybe it would come in handy now that she was getting older and learning more.

Just let the nerves do their thing. Especially here, I’m basically playing a support role. If I mess this up, he’ll be in searing pain for the rest of his life.

True to her word, Cira just kept dumping in mana. The more she observed, the faster she could make the process go, but it was very delicate work. Worse than the rivers of Fount Salt, even. The nerves wormed their way down through his leg, branching off in countless little tendrils, then eventually through his foot and even toes.

A few minutes later, Cira opened her eyes, letting her staves all power down. What she saw before her was a human foot—fully connected all the way up to Jimbo’s knee.

“I did it!” She was happy, but the paladins were pouring sweat, breathing heavy trying to hold Jimbo down as he yowled on the table. The edges were splintered as if he had begun breaking it to pieces. He slowly quieted down and looked at his leg, eyes blinking in shock.

“The pain is gone… And my… my leg!” He was still shaking though, and Captain Shores looked at her like he’d just been through an ordeal. “That wasn’t worth it at all. If I lose another leg, it’s staying off.”

His chest heaved as he tried to settle down, but he just sprawled back out on the table.

“Geez, was it really that bad?”

Shores shook his head, “It seemed bearable at first… Not a bad price to pay for a new leg. But after twenty minutes you weren’t yet down to the ankle… I don’t know if I could bear it for that long. Then whatever you were doing at the end there… I though Jimbo’s heart was gonna explode.”

“It was bad, Cap’n.” Jimbo looked up at her with a tear in his eye. His voice was hoarse from screaming. “Can I drink now?”

“Have at it.” She did feel kind of bad. She warned him it would hurt, but she didn’t know it would be a couple hours of magical torture. At least I stopped the paladins from trying. That was hard even for me. “I think you’ve earned it.”

He didn’t even sit up, letting gravity do the work as the bottle emptied in short order. It appeared he had no intention of using the leg anytime soon, so Cira healed his throat to at least ease the pain of drinking.

Okay then, what’s next?

After being informed by James who had arrived at some point during the screaming session that it was late evening, Cira decided to go to bed. This left her with one more full day to spend with her students. This didn’t feel like a lot, because it wasn’t. And it felt even shorter when she got down to it.

The morning had honestly flown by. Io retained her proposed regimen but improved on the physical fitness test by implementing situational agility. In other words, Cira joined him in the sky to rain mana down on hundreds of fleeing students for hours on end. She made sure to keep her eyes on Jimbo who was running around like a spring chicken with both legs. All her students were quite adept at pushups and sit-ups by this point, being able to casually take a five-minute fitness break as they rolled away from Cira’s lightning.

Lunchtime was a masterful feast where all ate voraciously, but even she was already getting tired of fish. It was the only abundant resource as of yet.

But she still enjoyed the meal with everyone. They were, however, like lifeless husks who would keel over if they didn’t consume meat as rapidly as possible. It was a satisfying lunch if nothing else during which few words were spoken.

Toward the end, a delicate young woman approached Cira. Her hair was an even lighter blonde than she remembered, as if she had been out in the bare sun all week.

“D-do you like the fish, Mistress?” She craned her neck up to look at Cira, fluttering her eyes, “We worked so hard to catch it.”

Hang on… how did I get seated with all of them? Wait… This girl? When she thought about it, even her arms had tanned, and taken on more tone than before. This was the same for the other eight members of her harem who wore sleek, tight-fitting golden robes with no sleeves. The robes only went down to their knees and split in the middle to allow maximum movement. Cira had to admit, these girls were in much better shape than they had been last time their arms were exposed, back in Wick’s courtyard.

While Cira was pleased to see such defined musculature, a sure sign of effort, she was even more impressed that none of them had given up in her absence. She had her doubts about a few, but to see them all before her and in such great shape was a welcome surprise. Ember even wore a short-cut top which displayed her toned abdomen. It was remarkably pronounced within her lean figure.

Hm. What is this feeling? I must simply be impressed by their hard work. I’m glad I kept the harem.

Sensing either her curiosity or confusion, Ember slid right up, keeping a respectable yet dubiously short distance between them, “That’s right. Don’t you know we’ve been enduring specialized training under Grandmaster Io? You know, we couldn’t call ourselves the harem to a sorcerer as great as yourself without the ability to take care of ourselves, and then some.”

With a wink, she stepped away and held out her hand. Flames burst, shining off Cira and the harem even in the daylight before growing more tame when Ember clenched her fist. In moments, the fireball was compressed into a perfectly round, glittering stone. It landed in Ember’s hand, and she tossed it over, “Here, catch!”

Cira held out her palm and caught a small marble of aether flame. It cannot be denied… she has some talent. “Wow. It’s actually impressive that you’ve come so far much in such a short time...” She let out a self-deprecating chuckle while her harem looked on in jealousy at Ember. “I guess none of you need me after all—” Cira’s eyes went wide as her train of thought halted—that’s it… isn’t it?!

“Oh, no! Of course, we need you—” Cira didn’t pay attention to the girl named Goldie as she somehow expressed and beckoned concern simultaneously, or Ember’s tender embrace and affirmations. A few of the other girls also clutched onto Cira’s robes while she fell into deep thought.

How could I be so stupid…? Of course, the only way to halt the dwindling of a flame without fuel is to crystallize it. I have known this since I was a little girl!

Cira was really beating herself up about nearly letting her current most precious research sample fade away. How curious that without a direct host it actually yearned to pass, rather than find a new one.

Chrysalis… The name just came to me. If that’s the name of the primordial curse which plagued Io for so long, then what is mine called? They both create abhorrent bastardizations of life, but why is Chrysalis so full of vitality? Why does it not feel sinister when isolated?

Currently what remained of the cursed flame sat within the Auld Sprig, essentially sealed away, but that didn’t mean it stopped burning.

Curses were supposed to be the darkest reaches of humanity, and Cira vividly remembered the radiant malice falling off that Sovereign of Ventra who she met in the distant past. That feeling was indisputably sinister, the power he left behind couldn’t be further off. But somehow, it was closer to the pervasive veil of life Kuja gave off these days than the dark and ominous pressure her false father exuded.

“The most sinister thing about any power is the hand that wields it.” Cira once said this, while it was paraphrased from her father’s wisdom.

Come to think of it, I don’t exactly crush people with evil intent when I use curses, either. Or I strive not to.

Cira wanted to believe that primordial curses were perhaps not as evil as she always believed, but images of the people she mangled and twisted flashed through her mind without relent.

So, it is the hand that wields it… The only question is whether I’m different than those who came before me, or from myself of long ago.

Cira went to stretch her arm out, but it was bound by a heavy weight.

Huh…?

Nine women clung to her, and she recoiled as a gentle hand stretched out to her face, “Why are you crying…?” She sounded very worried.

Dammit, what is this?

“I-I am not.” Cira said with uncertainty, “Now get back. This is dangerous.”

They were hesitant, so she strafed beyond their clutches in liquid form and gained considerable distance before holding out her palm over the sea. A warm, sanguine flame appeared above her hand. Like running blood with the rosey blush of sunrise, it reached to the sky, wild and willful.

Even the most brilliant flame can be tamed through sorcery… That is what I have always been taught. But to think the same thing could be said of flames which had nothing to do with fire. I wonder if Dad knew.

Cira clenched her fist, and the blushing flame folded in on itself, compressing to the point that shot waves of mana outward. They bashed against the barrier she made and rattled the shore. Cira tried to keep her harem away for a moment, but they looked like they were going to follow her out of concern. Worse yet, others were starting to join them in the distance, like Cira was constructing some kind of spectacle.

Why is it reacting so violently, though? Have I made a mistake?