By the time Kairo left the well behind and returned to the inn, the village had grown quieter.
Most of the streets were empty now, save for the occasional late traveler or guard making a slow round through the district. Lanterns still burned outside the larger buildings, their light stretching long shadows across the road. Somewhere in the distance, laughter rose from another tavern, followed by the sharp sound of someone being thrown out.
Humans, Kairo had noticed, were loud even when they were tired.
He walked through the front door of the Copper Lantern Inn and decided that the weapon could wait until morning. There was no reason to buy one tonight when the shops would still be there tomorrow.
The inn's common room was dimly lit, though not empty. A few travelers sat near the hearth nursing drinks, while the silver-haired innkeeper counted coins behind the counter with the suspicious expression of someone who trusted numbers more than people.
Beside her stood the younger woman who had given him clothes earlier.
She noticed him first.
"You're back," she said, looking him over.
Kairo glanced at the counter.
"I would like food."
She blinked. "At this hour?"
"Yes."
Her eyes narrowed with mild curiosity.
"Are you planning to stay awake for a while?"
"Yes."
"That sounds unhealthy."
"I do not believe it will matter."
She gave him a strange look, then shrugged.
"Five bronze coins."
Kairo placed the coins on the counter without hesitation.
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned a short while later with a wooden tray—bread, a bowl of thick vegetable stew, slices of salted meat, and a small cup of water.
"For someone who doesn't sleep," she said while handing it over, "try not to die in your room."
"I will make an effort."
That made her laugh.
He took the tray upstairs.
---
His room was small but practical.
A narrow bed stood against one wall. A wooden table and single chair occupied the corner beside a small shuttered window. There was an old almirah with one crooked door, and a wash basin set on a stand near the bed.
Nothing luxurious.
Kairo placed the food on the table, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
The room was silent. He looked at the candle flame for several seconds before speaking quietly to himself.
"This body does not need sleep."
Humans rested because the mind required it.
Their thoughts slowed. Their senses dulled. Their emotions became unstable.
But the original mind of this body was gone, and whatever now occupied it did not feel fatigue in the same way.
The flesh might tire. The muscles might weaken.
But sleep itself was no longer essential.
Which meant one thing.
He had more time than others.
He leaned back slightly, considering what to do with it.
Then his gaze shifted inward.
Adaptive Body.
The second trait.
Even by name alone, it seemed valuable.
A body that could adjust, improve, survive.
But to test it properly, he first needed to recover from the damage he had taken during the hunt.
His thigh still carried a deep tear from a beast's claws. Several cuts marked his arms and shoulders. Smaller scratches crossed his ribs and back.
He sorted through the memories he had inherited, searching for human methods of regeneration, disease, mutation, cell growth.
Eventually, one word surfaced.
Cancer.
Uncontrolled cell division.
Usually fatal.
But if controlled— Then it could become accelerated repair.
Kairo's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Efficient."
He moved from the bed to the floor and sat cross-legged in the center of the room.
Then he placed one hand over the wound in his thigh.
Dark energy moved through his fingers like smoke sinking into flesh.
Inside the damaged tissue, he seeded a tiny controlled plague pattern—one designed not to destroy, but to stimulate division.
Cells began to multiply slowly and carefully.
The torn fibers of muscle twitched beneath the skin. Thin strands of fresh tissue formed along the ripped edges of the wound, bridging gaps that had been open only hours earlier.
Pain flared.
Sharp and intense.
Then faded.
Kairo watched the sensation with detached interest.
"Response is stable."
He moved next to the scratches along his forearm.
The plague spread in thin lines beneath the skin, urging growth where damage remained. The shallow cuts tingled as fresh skin crept inward from both sides, knitting together in pale threads.
Small beads of blood dried and flaked away.
The marks became thin red lines.
Then even fainter.
He checked the system.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
STATUS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Skill: Slow Recovery
Proficiency: 0.4%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Kairo studied the number.
The skill was improving because he was forcing recovery.
Interesting.
He continued.
For hour after hour, he sat in the dim room while the village slept around him.
The candle burned low.
He replaced it with another.
The body warmed from internal activity as cells divided under careful control. New skin formed over scratches. Bruises faded from dark purple to yellow, then to normal flesh. Torn tissue in his shoulders tightened and closed by degrees.
The process consumed energy quickly.
He could feel it draining from him like water through cracked stone.
Still, he continued.
By the fourth hour, sweat had gathered along his neck and forehead.
He looked down at himself.
The minor wounds had closed completely, though thin scars remained where claws had cut deepest. Smaller scratches had vanished entirely.
The wound in his thigh, however, still remained.
It was narrower now.
Less angry. Less swollen.
But far from healed.
He checked the system again.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
STATUS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Skill: Slow Recovery
Proficiency: 1.3%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The increase was steady.
But his stomach twisted sharply.
Hunger.
Real and immediate.
He stood, walked to the table, and ate everything on the tray with unusual speed. Bread disappeared first, then the stew, then the salted meat. Even the water felt insufficient.
When he finished, he sat still for several minutes, letting the body settle.
Then returned to the floor.
---
The second session was harder.
The energy gained from food helped, but not enough.
He resumed the process, directing controlled growth toward the thigh wound while strengthening the newly repaired tissue elsewhere. Fresh skin formed in layers. Damaged muscle slowly pulled itself together strand by strand.
Whenever growth became too rapid, he suppressed it And whenever it slowed too much, he pushed harder.
It was delicate work.
For the first time, Kairo understood why human healers charged so much.
Precision was exhausting.
Hours passed.
Outside the window, darkness gradually thinned into pale grey.
Birds began calling from somewhere near the wall.
Morning.
Kairo finally stopped.
He sat in silence for a moment, breathing more heavily than before.
Not tired.
But drained.
He examined the results.
The minor wounds across his arms and torso were closed. Faint lines remained, but they would not hinder movement. The larger tear in his thigh had shrunk considerably, though it still had depth.
Pain remained.
But manageable.
He could fight with it.
He checked the system one final time.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
STATUS
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Skill: Slow Recovery
Proficiency: 2.0%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Progress.
Slow, but certain.
He stood, washed the blood and sweat from his hands, then straightened his shirt.
His stomach growled again.
He was starving.
Kairo opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Today, he needed breakfast.
And after that— He had a deal to make with a certain someone.