Filter (Second Update!)

Hearing that, Golden Sprout tugged at his goatee. "Curse Death, why are you speaking three syllables at a time? Have you suffered mental damage?"

Curse Death nodded eagerly. "Hurry up. Give me medicine!"

Golden Sprout sighed, then picked up the kettle on the table and poured hot water into the cup of green tea beside him.

The fragrance of tea leaves filled the air.

Golden Sprout set down the kettle, picked up the cup, murmured a few incantations, and handed it to Curse Death.

Curse Death accepted it gratefully. Steam rose with the scent of tea and rushed into his nose. Even a light sniff restored a little of his battered mind.

"Thank you," he said with heartfelt gratitude.

If Curse Death excelled at curses and manifesting souls, Golden Sprout excelled at gently restoring allies' mental states—and devastating those of his enemies.

"Just drink it," Golden Sprout urged helplessly.

Ignoring the scalding heat, Curse Death drained the tea in one gulp. Delight surged from the depths of his soul, while warmth rushed through his muscles to his skin. Even the "aphasia" that had plagued him seemed to have vanished.

"Excellent tea. I've finally recovered." Curse Death let out a long breath. "Having to force out words three syllables at a time was agony."

"Good. It worked." Golden Sprout rubbed his forehead hard with his thumb. He seemed considerably more drained. "I'll need you to do a lot of the work from here on."

"Leave it to me." Curse Death grinned.

"Back to the matter at hand." Golden Sprout's brow eased slightly. "For now, it looks like our plan to fake our deaths worked. White Line, the hunter who kept hounding us, should have been fooled and drawn away."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Curse Death shook his head. "I saw