"Damn", I whistled in appeciation after reading its' Runes. "This thing really is quite good. The sap being limited is annoying, but it still haspassive healing for physical damage at least. Plus it boosts essence recovery too!"
"Well then," Sasrir said after brushing the rest ofthe sap off his clothes, "anything else you want to poke before we leave?"
"No," I said. "Let's get back before we run out of luck."
"Music to my ears."
We started back toward the coral edge, sap crunching underfoot and sunlight leaking through the amber canopy in ribbons. The City was just as quiet as when we left it, like a nightmare perpetually frozen in time.
By the time Bright Castle's walls came into sight, the sun was at the tail end of its' journey through the sky. As the Dark Sea began to emerge out there, in the Coral Labyrinth, I fixed my gaze where I believed the Soul Devourer wassituated. Today had proven that the Unshadowed Crucifix's flames, while potentially not as capable of raw damage like Nephis' or an Iron-Blooded Knight, was still a massive type-advanatge against Tree Monsters.
Sasrir caught me glancing across the horizon. "Feeling prepared yet?"
"Not quite."
"Any idea when?"
"Not too soon," I said. "I'd rather be better safe than sorry, have the full route planned out. They had to sail across the Crater the first time, remeber? I don't want to be eaten by some Kraken."
He smirked. "I'm sure it would spit you back out."
"No way, you probably taste way worse than me!"
"Impossible," he shrugged. "I'm the most perfect and beautiful of all the ASG bodies, stated by Cuttlefish himself."
I laughed, and the sound echoed against the cracked walls as we crossed back into familiar streets. For once, even the City seemed to approve.
Back in Bright Castle, we dropped our gear and cleaned off the lingering sap. It hardened fast, and by the time I managed to peel the last of it from my fingers, I'd decided it smelled faintly of caramel. Sasrir complained it made his hair sticky; I told him it looked cool.
That night, I checked the Mantle of the Underworld again. Its black surface possessed a strange beauty to it, and I was transfixed. Nether might have been a simp for the Storm Goddess, but that Daemon could sure as hell craft.
Sasrir spoke up from beside me, lying on his own bed. "Night, Adam."
I smiled faintly. "Sweet dreams."
*************************************
The mirror in my quarters was cracked down the middle, but that didn't stop me from admiring the reflection staring back.
"Not bad," I murmured, tilting my head this way and that. The light from the morning sun poured through the narrow window slit, gilding my face in warm gold. "Definitely taller… shoulders broader, too. And that—" I leaned in closer, squinting, "—that's a beard. A real beard."
It wasn't much. Just a faint line of golden stubble tracing my jaw. But after six months of rationed food, endless patrols, and baby-face jokes from Effie, it felt like a badge of honor.
"Finally, the manliest of men," I said to myself with mock gravity, brushing a thumb across the small patch of roughness. "All Might would be proud. Probably."
The blue eyes staring back were still the same — too soft, too unscarred for this place, like a baby. That probably wouldn't change, not on it own at least, and once I became a Psychiatrist they would be golden.
Gonna have to think of an excuse for that ahead of time.
I grinned, leaned closer, and flexed slightly. "Well, Adam, you've done it. Survived the Shore, grown a beard, achieved beauty beyond mortal comprehension—"
A hand shot out from behind me and smacked the back of my head.
"—ow!" I spun around. "What the hell, Sasrir?"
He was standing there in loose fatigues, eyes half-lidded with sleep, a toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth. "You done flirting with yourself, Narcissus?" he asked, voice muffled. "Some of us would like to use the mirror for practical reasons. Like not dying from morning breath."
I frowned and rubbed the back of my skull. "You could've just asked."
"I did. Yesterday. And the day before that." He nudged me aside with his elbow, claiming the cracked mirror like it was sacred ground. "Now move before I pick you up with a shadow and do it myself."
I sighed, stepping away while muttering something about respect for personal growth. Sasrir ignored me entirely, brushing his teeth with rhythmic precision, the same way he did everything in life-though after months of the Forgotten Shore, I had also gained some mechanical routines.
Outside, I could hear the faint hum of activity — some fighting in the courtyard, the grinding of tools, the murmured conversations of people who had long since stopped being strangers. Six months of routine had carved order into chaos.
"Don't look so mopey," Sasrir said around his toothbrush. "You'll have plenty of time to admire yourself once we're dead and fossilized."
"Thanks for the optimism."
"Anytime." He spat into a cracked basin, wiped his mouth, and flashed me a grin. "Now hurry up, Golden Beard. We've got patrol in twenty."
I blinked. "You noticed?"
"Oh, I noticed," he said dryly. "The whole fortress has noticed. The sun itself probably noticed. It's blinding, Adam. Please shave before it becomes a weapon."
I laughed despite myself. "Not a chance."
"Then I'm requisitioning sunglasses."