Ling felt as though he had been tossed into a stone mortar and pounded, then simmered over low heat for three days and nights. An aching weakness seeped through every joint, and his soul felt like a rag brutally wrung dry and tossed into a corner, crumpled in on itself. He lay on the infirmary bed, staring at the monotonous patterns on the ceiling. Even moving his eyes felt like too much effort.
The door opened, bringing in a chilly draft from the corridor. Tobirama Senju walked in, his steps light and steady, like a cat's. His hands were empty-no scrolls, no instruments. He simply stood beside the bed and looked down at Ling. His gaze was less that of someone looking at a patient than of someone assessing a cracked weapon.
"The damage to your soul runs deeper than expected." His voice was flat, his assessment immediate. "Conventional Medical Ninjutsu has limited effect. Your recovery now depends on two things: the resilience of your 'Purifying Karma' constitution, and..." He paused, his gaze settling between Ling's eyebrows, as though he could see through flesh and bone to the faintly warm Beacon within. "How quickly you assimilate the knowledge inside it."
Ling said nothing, only swallowed with difficulty, his throat painfully dry. He knew what Tobirama meant-the vast quantities of information about dark energy structures and sealing formulas that had been forcibly crammed into him were still rampaging through his mind like a herd of untamed horses.
"The other 'me' made a bold choice." Tobirama continued, sounding half as though he were speaking to himself and half as though he were putting Ling through some kind of stress test. "He staked everything on you. He wagered that before the darkness swallowed you completely, you could turn yourself into a blade capable