Damn it. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT.

Nikola Tesla throws down one of the tools he had been using to build the new version of the keycraft he had been working on in the last several hours. No. He knew it wouldn't work, he knew that if it was placed on a crystal it would probably malfunction, turning the wearer in a much worse state than the other way around...it was a hopeless cause. Why was he working on it, then? He could've just used the time to create a simpler keycraft that would work without any problems, but no, he had to make it better. Make it able to return more humanity to the wearer.

He paces back and forth, trying to think of what to do next. Because he knows exactly why he's been wasting so much time on this. If they ever got Maladict, he wanted her to have the best- it hurt, really, to think she would never be the same after what happened, but he wanted to restore as much as possible for her. The ability to taste coffee, for example, or the ability to actually feel things around her, to live her life like it had been before this whole mess had started...

Tesla sighs, before heading out of the cave to stand in the fresh air, where he could think better without the pressure of making that keycraft perfect hanging above his head. What if they never got her back? How long would she still be in that castle, a puppet to Mithos' orders? He didn't know, he didn't want to know.

The only thing he can do is keep going forward and hope everything falls into line.