"Kid, give it a rest, will you?"
Blob's voice echoed inside his mind, sharp and dry as ever.
Max blinked, exasperated. "You've been quiet for hours."
"Yeah, well, I figured I'd give your brain a break after all the emotional trauma," Blob grumbled. "But seriously—don't push it. You look healed, sure. But your body's been torn apart from the inside out. Space storms, infernal energy—both at once? That's not something you walk off."
Max frowned slightly. "So… it's not over?"
Blob sighed. "Physically, yeah, your tissues are knit back together. Bones mended. Organs functioning. But there are residual scars. Energy distortions. Think of it like… poison still stuck in your bloodstream. It'll take time to flush out."
He paused, then added with a grunt, "Honestly? If it were anyone else, they'd be nothing but ashes and regrets by now. Be thankful you're even breathing."
Max gave a slight nod, his expression settling into something calmer.
"Alright," he said. "I'll rest."
