The restoration pool worked slowly but thoroughly.
Dante lost track of time as he floated in the luminescent liquid, watching his body repair itself in ways that shouldn't have been possible. The wounds from the Guardian fight healed completely—not just closed over but fully regenerated, leaving not even scars to mark their passage. His depleted Core refilled drop by drop, ancient energy seeping back into the void that his desperate gambit had created.
The process felt strange, almost intimate. He could sense the pool's magic working on him: analyzing damage, assessing needs, providing exactly what was required for restoration. It was more sophisticated than any healing he'd ever experienced, more precise than even the best healers on the upper floors had ever managed.
And throughout it all, the walls spoke to him.
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