Chapter 18: Broth, Bickering, and a Black Slime Prosthetic

The relentless thrum of preparation echoed through the Shattered Spire – the clang of forges, the guttural shouts of demon drill sergeants, the low hum of Lilith's slime constructs reinforcing weakened walls. But in Karnazul's dimly lit recovery chamber, a different, decidedly less apocalyptic, rhythm played out.

Karnazul, propped up on hides, glowered at the steaming bowl of thick, grey broth on the obsidian slab beside him. The potent healing salves Lilith had woven into his system had accelerated his recovery, but his missing left forearm remained a stark vulnerability. Using his remaining hand required awkward contortions for simple tasks. Like eating.

He fumbled with a heavy stone spoon, the broth sloshing precariously. A droplet landed on his chest plate with a faint hiss. He growled, a low rumble like distant thunder.

"Problem, Ash Lord?" Lilith's voice, laced with saccharine concern, preceded her entrance. She glided in, carrying another bowl, this one containing not broth, but a shifting mass of inky black slime. Her glowing purple eyes sparkled with amusement as she took in his struggle. "Lost your appetite? Or just your coordination? I did warn you about the phantom spoon cravings."

"I need no commentary, Slimzy," Karnazul grunted, managing to scoop a meager spoonful. "Just... silence. And perhaps a less infernal broth."

"Infernal? My dear Rust Bucket, that broth is infused with ground Shadow-Wyrm bone and Void-lotus root! It's practically liquid fortitude!" Lilith placed her slime bowl on a smaller table and perched on the edge of his slab, ignoring his flinch. Her fair skin seemed almost luminous in the gloom. "Though, watching you wrestle with it is rather more entertaining than reinforcing load-bearing arches. Consider it my lunchtime diversion."

Karnazul managed to get the spoon to his lips, only for half the broth to dribble down his chin. He slammed the spoon down with a clang. "Abyss take this! And your diversion!"

Lilith sighed dramatically, a tendril of slime detaching to wipe the spilled broth from his chin with surprising gentleness, though her touch was cool and slightly gelatinous. "So dramatic. And wasteful! That's premium wyrm bone you're spilling." She picked up his discarded spoon. "Honestly, Karnazul. One little missing limb and you forget millennia of battlefield adaptability? Use your other hand. Or your teeth. Be creative!"

"I am not gnawing on the bowl like some starved hell-hound!" Karnazul snapped, snatching the spoon back with his good hand, nearly spilling it again. "And stop touching me with your... sentient dishwater!"

"Sentient dishwater? How utterly pedestrian," Lilith sniffed, examining her shimmering black slime. "This is high-viscosity, mana-infused adaptive biopolymer, thank you very much. Far more sophisticated than your clunky iron." She gestured towards his stump. "Speaking of sophistication... ready for your fitting?"

Karnazul eyed the bowl of writhing black slime with deep suspicion. "Fitting? For what? A new fashion accessory to match your... tactical indecency?"

"For your arm, you obtuse geological formation!" Lilith rolled her purple eyes. "Did you think I'd let my Goddess's primary blunt instrument wander around lopsided? It's bad for morale. And symmetry." She dipped her fingers into the slime, which flowed eagerly up her arm. "This," she declared, holding up a mass of the stuff, "is Phase One. The core. It will bond to your residual nerve endings and bone structure, providing a stable interface. Then we build the functional limb. Think of it as... bespoke bludgeoning potential."

Karnazul stared, a mix of revulsion and reluctant curiosity warring on his ash-grey face. "It... wriggles."

"It adapts," Lilith corrected primly. "Now, hold still. This might tickle. Or sting. Or feel like your essence is being gently siphoned into the Void. Hard to predict with nerve reintegration." She leaned closer, the slime stretching towards his stump.

Karnazul recoiled. "Keep that gloop away from me, Slimzy! I'd rather have a hook! A dull hook!"

"Nonsense," Lilith said, advancing with the relentless cheer of a dentist. "Hooks are passé. So last apocalypse. This is cutting-edge limb replacement! Besides," she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "imagine the look on the Dragon Knight's face when you punch him with a fist made of sentient dishwater."

"He'd probably just absorb it," Karnazul muttered darkly, but he stopped struggling, bracing himself. "Fine. Do your worst. But if it tries to... cuddle... I'm ripping it off."

The slime made contact. Karnazul hissed, his crimson eyes widening. It wasn't exactly pain; it was a bizarre, cold-electric sensation spreading from the stump, followed by a deep, resonant thrum as the slime flowed and solidified, anchoring itself. Tiny filaments, glowing faintly purple, seemed to burrow painlessly into the sealed flesh.

"See?" Lilith chirped, molding the slime with her fingers. It was already forming a rough, shoulder-to-elbow structure, cool and surprisingly solid to the touch. "Told you it would tickle. Now, preferences? Classic fist? Spiked knuckles? Built-in flamethrower? Ooh! A mana siphon! We could call it the 'Theodric Tapper'!"

"Just make it functional," Karnazul grumbled, flexing the phantom muscles where his elbow should be. The slime structure moved slightly in response. "And... stable. No surprises."

"Spoilsport," Lilith sighed, but her fingers moved with practiced precision, shaping the slime. "Basic reinforced impact node it is. For now. We can add the flamethrower module later. Once you've mastered not spilling your broth."

They fell into a surprisingly focused silence, broken only by the soft shlorping sounds of the shaping slime and Karnazul's occasional grunt of discomfort or surprise. Lilith's usual theatrics were dialed back, replaced by a sharp, professional concentration. Karnazul watched her work, his initial suspicion giving way to grudging fascination.

"How do you even... know how to do this?" he asked finally, his voice less gruff.

Lilith didn't look up, her purple eyes fixed on the intricate connections she was forming. "The Forgotten Archives aren't just dusty prophecies and maps of extinct hellscapes, Ash Lord. They contain schematics. Biological treatises. Notes on flesh-crafting and essence-binding from ages when demons built more than just war machines." A slime tendril flickered, adjusting an internal structure. "Turns out, the ancients were quite inventive with adaptive biomatter. Much more elegant than your clunky prosthetics."

"Hmph. Elegant isn't always durable," Karnazul countered, though without much heat. He experimentally willed the slime structure to make a fist. It clenched slowly, smoothly. "...But... it responds."

"Of course it responds!" Lilith beamed, her earlier smugness returning. "It's keyed to your neural impulses and demonic signature! Think of it as... a very obedient, very stylish extension of your magnificent self. Now," she patted the solidified black slime forearm, "Phase One complete! Solid core, neural integration stable. We'll let it fully bond overnight. Tomorrow, we add the hand. Maybe with retractable claws? For scratching itches. Or enemy eyes."

Karnazul flexed the slime limb again, a flicker of something almost like wonder in his crimson eyes. "...Claws could be useful," he admitted grudgingly. He looked at the forgotten broth bowl. With a deliberate thought, the slime forearm moved, the end flattening slightly. He clumsily, but successfully, nudged the bowl closer. "Huh."

Lilith watched, a genuine, wide smile spreading across her face, making her glowing purple eyes crinkle at the corners. "Progress! Next stop, utensil mastery! Perhaps you won't need that spork after all." She gathered her remaining slime. "Rest, Karnazul. Let the core integrate. Try not to dream of crushing things with it yet. Baby steps."

As she glided towards the door, Karnazul called out, his voice rough but lacking its usual bite. "Slimzy."

She paused, looking back.

"...It doesn't itch."

Lilith's smile softened into something less sharp, more genuinely pleased. "Told you so. Now, behave. Or I'll program it to tickle you in your sleep." With a final flutter of her small wings and a swirl of inky slime, she was gone.

Karnazul looked down at his new, sleek black forearm, then at the broth bowl. Carefully, deliberately, he used the flattened end to push the bowl right up against his good hand. He picked up the spoon. This time, no broth spilled.

A small, almost invisible smirk touched his lips. Maybe sentient dishwater had its uses. At least until the flamethrower module arrived. The Ash Lord settled back, the sounds of the Spire's preparations a distant backdrop to his quiet, slightly absurd, slice of recovery.