Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.22 – The Knight Seeks Growth (1)
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*Crack, crackle.*
“Guhhh!”
“This is driving me insane! Why do you keep coming back looking like a shredded rag?!”
*Crackle!!*
“Mmgh... Y-You're not putting any real emotion into it, right?”
“As if I wouldn't.”
“Is that how a priestess is supposed to act?”
“Priestesses are human too, you know.”
“...Fair enough. My bad.”
“Good, as long as you get it.”
*Crunch!*
“!?!!”
This one really hurt.
They say pain so intense you can't even groan... It was true. No sound escaped him, just tears welling up endlessly.
“Ugh...!”
It felt like bones snapping and muscles tearing. And sure enough, the agony of shattered bones and ruptured muscles crashed over him. Lee Han just wanted to pass out.
The priestess—Nun Jesse—wiped sweat from her furrowed brow and caught her breath.
“Hoo... It's been a while since I've cast major healing spells like this for days on end. Normally, even knights pass out from this level of treatment, but Brother Lee Han doesn't even faint? As expected of a knight—your mental fortitude is impressive.”
“...You dump all the pain on me and now you compliment me?”
“Just stating facts. Lie down for a bit. I'll brew some herbal tea at least.”
“You were scarier than a ghost during treatment... Now you actually seem like a priestess.”
“I told you—we're human too, priestess or not.”
The nun flashed a bright smile and left Lee Han alone to prepare the tea.
Lee Han lay there, utterly drained of energy from head to toe.
It's been a while since I've felt like this.
His stamina sapped by the agony.
Aside from his childhood human experiments, he'd never been left this exhausted by pain.
I thought I'd built immunity to most pain... What an illusion.
He never imagined he'd learn humility during the [Healing] process.
Academy Recovery Room.
The priciest facility in the Royal Academy, boasting elite personnel even most nobles couldn't access. It was one of the few places offering sacred arts—healing spells.
Lee Han usually relied on natural recovery and avoided sacred arts, but the brutal recent battle had taken its toll, landing him here.
Even after seven sessions, his body wasn't fully restored.
That spoke volumes about how wrecked he'd been.
I really pushed it hard...
Looking back now, he realized how recklessly he'd treated his body.
Semester evaluation: two weeks straight of training. Pushed right to the limit.
And that was just the start.
Given just one day off—barely enough to recover—he'd plunged into fierce monster battles without proper rest. He'd even downed five potions, exceeding the safe limit.
Any average high-rank warrior would've died from that abuse.
It was only because it was him that he'd endured.
But the cost was steep, as proven by the female priest's pale face when she first checked his condition.
- Y-You endured this? H-How...?
He'd never seen a face drain of color in real time like that.
And then:
- It's going to hurt. ...No, not just hurt—a lot.
She'd warned him bluntly it'd be rough. He'd figured, How bad could it be? But experiencing it...
...She lied. 'A lot' doesn't cover it—it's like having your living flesh ripped out.
No joke; it was mind-shattering torment.
He'd always thought holy power was just flashy lights mending bodies. Turns out, no.
It was more like physical therapy or traditional medicine.
The difference: instead of tools or needles, priestesses channeled sacred arts through their hands.
The initial cool relief as it brushed his body was nice. But the itching, burning aftermath? Unbearable.
Like smashing muscles and bones like puzzle pieces, then reassembling them.
What? No idea what that means?
...Me neither. I said it, but I don't get it.
Nothing else described the agony.
“Hoo...”
“Oh, up already?”
“Feeling alive now.”
“Your recovery is incredible. Five times? No, seven times faster than average. It's like looking at our monk brothers.”
“Monk brothers?”
“The 'Monk Brothers.' They train solely to hone their bodies and boost recovery with sacred arts. Their regen rivals trolls. And Brother Lee Han matches them. ...Were you trained by monks as a kid?”
“Never met one.”
“...Really? They'd love you. Hm... Think about visiting them sometime. I can write a letter of introduction.”
“Letter of introduction?”
What the heck kind of random intro letter?
Lee Han blinked, and the priestess grinned cheekily, winking one eye.
“Someone like you? They'd welcome you with open arms!”
“Ha, you want me to convert? Wait, priests scout too?”
“Talent shortage everywhere. Especially heroes who've saved countless lives—they're top-tier anywhere.”
“Sheesh...”
Brazen, but oddly endearing offer.
If a potbellied noble said that, fists first. But she was his healer, and more importantly...
...She's cute, so I'll let it slide.
She resembled a favorite idol from his past life. One pass.
Still, he never expected this line here.
Lately, recruiters everywhere. Even the temple?
The hero title had killer PR value, apparently.
But inwardly, harsh words he couldn't spit at his healer swirled in his throat.
Am I nuts? Tithing and temple runs?
He barely swallowed them, for her sake.
* * *
“Ughhh!”
Outside, Lee Han stretched lightly, loosening up.
The treatment pain was hell, but with each step, strength welled up.
Vitality flooding his body.
I don't trust temples much, but damn, the convenience...
The kingdom had healers and doctors, of course.
Sacred healers were rare, so alternatives made sense. But medicine lagged behind.
Even 19th-20th century docs killed more than they saved, right?
Bloodletting for blood pressure, mercury instead of meds, zero hygiene...
Pandragons medicine was dismal. Temples held sway with healing arts.
Lee Han now got the hype firsthand. Half a year of bedrest? Gone.
“Three more sessions, and it'd be perfect.”
Full vitality restore. Maybe even heal hidden injuries.
Feels light now—fully healed, I might fly.
Thud.
“Oh, right—gotta deal with this.”
A fist-sized rock in his pocket snapped him from reverie.
Tossed casually in his belt pouch, it could pass for a collector's stone. But its value dwarfed gems.
Demon King's Heart.
The sole remnant of the Demon King, scorched by aura yesterday.
Carrying such treasure casually? He'd deserve the "crazy" label. But Lee Han wasn't treasure-obsessed.
- Happiness is simple—no prying eyes, just live satisfied.
Past life: hoarded wealth for retirement, died without spending it.
So now? He saved, but blew it freely on what satisfied him.
No marriage plans (curse-blocked anyway), minimal living expenses. Why hoard? Death takes it all.
...Old pauper habits died hard; he saved some. But treasures? Meh.
If stolen? His skill level showed.
Unworthy hands bring only misfortune.
Martial arts tales: first finder butchered by righteous or demonic sects.
Better flaunt it openly—lose it? No sweat.
Positive mindset.
Stress-free living philosophy.
...Not that he'd just hand it over.
Thieves? Expect retaliation. His rule this life.
No victimhood. No one dictates his life. Violators? No mercy.
Mulling that grim resolve, he pondered the heart.
Make gear? Or eat it raw?
No selling. Fuel for growth, as planned. But processing talent? Needle in a haystack.
Of my contacts, only big sis could...
She who brewed Ambrosia-level elixirs.
But no.
Shed swallow it whole.
Isis would rage: 'You see me as a shameless lord coveting others' loot?!'
But nah.
Shed demand payment.
Trust issues. No ask.
Her principle: equivalent exchange. Pay up or else.
Half the heart minimum—or worse. Pass.
Next: spellcasters... Both iffy.
Slave spellcaster? Bedridden post-battle.
No. 2 chick? No skills for this.
She's scholar-type, not artisan. Gut-feel like me.
Lee Han's eye for people: Irene Windler wasn't mage-stereotypical.
Hand her this? Cold sweat city.
Thus realizing no monster-material experts left in his network...
Snap.
“...Someone who might?”
Finger tapping forehead paused. A face surfaced.
The hard-won transfer...
“'Teaching Assistant No. 2,' recite what I want.”
“...Can't you just call me 'Timid' instead?”
Tae-chang—no, Derek—showed rare strong refusal.
Anything but teaching assistant.