Dante's eyes didn't stray from the house, swirling magic flowing through it in disturbing, unnatural patterns that swirled ever quicker in a crescendo of chaos that culminated in a sudden, eerie stillness - accompanied by a very real and very loud sound.

He only realized he was holding his breath when he felt his lungs start burning up and, with a heavy sigh, returned to his watch. He stopped for a moment, thinking about barging into the house knocking the door down, but the idea was quickly ruled out - what if nothing visible had happened? Or worse, what if that was intentional magic?

He couldn't take the risk, but he couldn't just sit still and wait, so he stood back up, slightly out of balance thanks to the magic vision, but that didn't stop him from pacing back and forth - at least now the threads of magic were standing still enough that he could tell the floor if he went slowly enough.

He glanced nervously at the house every few seconds and, soon enough, his patience was rewarded in the form of a middle aged man protectively carrying a red-haired girl - or perhaps she had fire magic? - in a hurry, even though the effort was making him pant and turning his cheeks red. Dante saw a chance, and he took it.

"Sir! Is she alright, do you need help?" He called out, in his best "model citizen" voice. The man quickly explained - he didn't know what had happened, but the girl wasn't fine and yes, he needed help to take her to the closest hospital.

Dante wasn't too stable on his feet, but having someone to follow along and having someone whose health depended on him all added up to make him put his best effort to get her to hospital. Or at least that was what he was telling himself, though he had to admit that if she didn't know what had happened with the magic earlier he'd be greatly disappointed.

When they finally got to the hospital, fortunately located close by, it was a matter of minutes before the girl was settled in bed, plugged to all the right machines, and injected with all the right chemicals. Dante was allowed to remain with the man on expressing his concern about the girl. The frowning faces from the doctors told him what they didn't want to say - the redhead wasn't doing well at all and, judging by their hushed discussions, they weren't too sure of what to do about it.

He stood next to the girl's bed with the man for a rather long time until her caretaker was called out by the doctors to talk about the girl's health - while waiting, the magic vision spell had faded, finally letting Dante see the world as usual. And now, with both the man and the medical crew away, it was the time to decide whether to use his magic to heal her or not. He didn't need to think for long, even despite the consequences his intervention would have.

He grabbed his pack from the corner he'd left it in, snatched his carbon fiber knife and poked the girl's shoulder lightly, barely nicking her. Then, he turned the blade on his own hand just as before, slicing through his other palm in a clean, bloodless cut.

With the ritual wounds made, he hid the knife again and sat down, muttering under his breath. A minute later, the incantation was complete. If he'd still had the arcane eyes, he would've been able to see the flow of magic, but even without them he knew that the girl's body was being filled with strength from other nearby living creatures, including himself. The spell was terribly inefficient, and most of the energy was lost in the transfer, but after a few minutes he considered she probably had gathered enough to wake up and severed the spell's connection with another harsh, foreign word.

Under normal circumstances, this life-stealing spell wouldn't have been dangerous since people went around with lifeforce to spare - they'd feel ill, apathetic, or even depressed, but not die. In a hospital, however, where people fought for their lives, it was certain that several other patients had died to accelerate the girl's recovery.

Dante shrugged those thoughts away - someone else might've tried to justify their actions, but the necromancer was honest enough with himself to admit that he'd just done it out of interest to talk with the girl. Sure, there were excuses available such as the fact that if they were weak enough to die from that they were going to die anyways, or that the girl had much more to live for - but in the end, he'd done it because he wanted to know what was on the girl's mind.