Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Recovery
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It was pain that roused Arsen from his deep slumber.
He struggled for a moment amid the agony that felt like he'd been beaten all over, barely managing to lift his heavy eyelids, but his vision remained blurry.
Lost in a hazy consciousness that made him feel like he was floating, Arsen blinked several times.
Fortunately, his sight began to return bit by bit.
The first thing he saw was a smooth stone ceiling fitted with magic lamps—a sight only found in a castle lord's residence or an estate lord's mansion.
From the sensations he could vaguely make out, his helmet and armor had been removed, and he seemed to be lying on something soft like a bed.
At least he hadn't bought it completely, he thought with some relief, and opened his mouth to call for someone.
"......Ah."
All he felt was pain like his throat was being scraped raw; his parched throat wouldn't produce even a proper sound.
Fortunately, someone was nearby and cried out in surprise.
"Captain! You're awake?"
The voice rang too loudly in his ears, making Arsen grimace without thinking.
The vibration made it feel like the bones inside his body were rattling, which was agonizing.
He heard someone getting up from their seat, a door opening, and then a soldier shouting at the top of his lungs.
"The captain's awake!"
'Fucking loudmouth. Shut your damn mouth for once.'
Irritation surged, and he wanted to say as much, but his throat was too dry to form words.
A short while later, Arsen was grateful for that fact.
What he'd nearly said was just the kind of childish whining typical of a patient.
That soldier had merely fulfilled his obvious duty of announcing that the unconscious man under his care had woken up.
He heard footsteps approaching—two sets. One light, like a woman or child, and one heavy, like a sturdy adult man.
"Arsen!"
Eloise's face appeared along with her urgent call.
Her expression was on the verge of tears, so Arsen tried to smile as comfortably as possible to reassure her.
But no sound came from his parched throat.
After coughing a few times, he settled for the next best thing and channeled magic into his earring.
Fortunately, the earring worked normally.
[Can I get some water? Throat's too dry to talk.]
"Oh, got it. Water!"
"Here you go!"
The hurried reply came from Rino.
He heard something being poured quickly, and felt someone supporting his back to help him sit up.
With Eloise's help, Arsen raised his upper body and gulped down the water from the wooden cup.
He held it in his mouth for a few seconds without swallowing right away, feeling his locked throat loosen as it absorbed the moisture.
"Speech is coming back now."
His throat still scratched, but it was much better than before.
"More water?"
"Nah, I'm good. More importantly......"
Arsen posed the first question that came to mind.
"What about the plunderer lord? Where are we?"
"Dead. They're butchering the corpse outside. This is the castle lord's residence in the gateway fortress."
"Time?"
"A day passed."
Feeling the strength drain from his entire body, Arsen leaned back against the headboard.
"That's a relief. Was half-worried I wouldn't make it after all that."
"You're the one who nearly died, saying that. What were you thinking, diving that deep in? They said if they'd pulled you out even a little later, you'd have drowned in blood."
At those words, Arsen lightly touched his lips.
He'd clamped his mouth shut and held his breath, but since he'd been completely submerged in blood, he might have swallowed some.
After passing out, instinct would have made him gasp for air, sucking blood deep into his throat.
Ever since witnessing his half-brother's death after becoming a plunderer, turning into one himself had become one of Arsen's traumas.
Just imagining it made him feel queasy.
"Probably swallowed some blood. Not sure if that's okay."
"At least if you're not steadily drinking it for days or weeks, it should be fine. Hunters sometimes take a sip or two of magic beast blood when they're short on water to quench their thirst. Of course, they'd never drink blood from a Ma-in this powerful......"
Arsen nodded at Rino's explanation, laced with experience and a bitter aftertaste, then recalled something he'd forgotten.
He pulled back the blanket covering his lower body, and there was his left leg, which he'd personally severed, perfectly reattached and welcoming him back.
"Leg's still here."
"Of course. We reattached it right away."
Unthinkingly, Arsen let out a sigh of relief.
He knew Eloise's healing spells could reattach severed limbs, which was why he'd made the call, but if the leg had been crushed underfoot or something, there wouldn't have been anything left to reattach.
At that moment, Arsen realized he felt no sensation in his left toes.
Even poking below the severed area with effort yielded no feeling.
"No sensation."
"Figured. Fixing it completely would've taken more mana, but I'm pretty much out right now."
Looking closely at Eloise's face upon hearing that, he saw clear signs of exhaustion.
Like when she'd overused her mana.
"There were a lot of wounded over there, and we don't have many mages on our side who can properly cast healing spells. Leaving them to die while only healing ours would've made us look bad."
Eloise mumbled with her head bowed, as if making excuses.
Seeing that, Arsen stroked her head over her robe to reassure her.
"Good call. We needed to watch our reputation anyway. The leg can be fixed later without any aftereffects, right?"
"Of course! Once my mana recovers, I can heal it right away. Otherwise, I'd have fixed you first no matter what. The others can go hang."
Eloise's judgment had been wise.
With the hunt over, what remained was dividing the spoils, which the estate lord—as supreme commander—would naturally oversee.
It was true that Arsen, Eloise, and Maroon had racked up massive contributions in this subjugation, but if word got out that they'd monopolized healing spells after the battle?
Sure, they could argue it was the mages' right to decide, but did people's hearts work that way?
If their side was dying without healing while this side brushed off and stood up fine, of course there'd be anger.
Just or not, it would work against Arsen's group—that was the problem.
Better to extend some aid and take credit for it than risk that.
Especially since his leg wouldn't be permanently crippled; it'd just take a day or two extra.
"Just hold on a bit."
"Huh?"
"Once my mana recovers this time, I'll fix your leg and heal everywhere else that's hurting."
"That sounds reassuring."
Looking at Eloise, Arsen felt a strange sensation.
Her making the call on her own, seeing this kid he'd thought of as young suddenly grow up in a flash.
Thanks to the time adventuring away from the estate, maybe.
Her gaze felt burdensome as he stared, so Eloise averted her eyes slightly and asked.
"What's up?"
"Nah, nothing. Rino, any deaths on our side?"
"None! Just some light injuries at worst."
"Bazkal and Knight Maroon?"
"Both are on perimeter guard duty outside the fortress. With so few uninjured knights right now......"
"I see."
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"I'll step in for a moment."
A polite request. The familiar voice clicked in his mind after a brief thought—Matthias, the estate lord of Exekia.
As soon as Arsen invited him in, the door opened.
"I heard you were awake and came by. How's the body feeling?"
"Thanks to your concern, I'm doing quite well."
"Glad to hear it. Ah, don't get up. You're still not well."
Arsen had only made a token effort to rise out of courtesy but obediently leaned back against the wall at the estate lord's urging.
His attitude was more than friendly—it was almost affectionate. Looked like Eloise's healing lobbying had worked successfully.
"First off, congratulations and thanks for your immense contributions to this subjugation. If you hadn't actively aided in hunting the lord, the whole operation might have failed outright."
"Thanks to the other knights' help and sacrifices."
Arsen responded humbly to the estate lord's praise. It wasn't pretense; it was sincere.
Arsen had claimed the biggest feat, but the other knights had held the line against the lord at the risk of their lives in the battle's early stages.
Without them, the army would've crumbled under attack before even mopping up the plunderers and regrouping.
And if Karik hadn't sacrificed himself in the lord's flaming torso instead, Arsen would've been grabbed and crushed right there.
"Their sacrifices must be honored too. May Mikerin watch over their souls."
The estate lord closed his eyes briefly, fingers interlaced in some odd way. Like he was praying.
After finishing his prayer, the estate lord turned to Eloise.
"I'm truly grateful for bestowing healing spells on our knights and soldiers, mage lady."
Exekia had a culture that religiously viewed mages as abominations, and as its leader, the estate lord had to maintain that stance publicly.
Thus, over the past few days, he'd treated the mages like invisible ghosts.
Only acknowledging their existence grudgingly when absolutely necessary, like in formation placement.
"......They're comrades we fought with. Had to do at least that much."
At Eloise's reply, a warm smile spread across the estate lord's bearded face.
"The estate lord of Exekia doesn't forget favors. I'll make sure to repay you. Oh, and Knight Karik asked me to pass on his thanks."
"Knight Karik's alive?"
He hadn't seen the man's end with his own eyes, but surviving a direct hit from the lord's palm seemed impossible.
The estate lord chuckled at the astonished question.
"Truly blessed by the gods. He was found buried in the ground, body half-crushed. Our healers had no way to save him, but thanks to the mage lady here, he pulled through."
For someone from a place that wouldn't be satisfied until mages were hanged, to owe his life to one—ironic.
After some small talk, the estate lord read the fatigue on Arsen's face and took his leave.
"Then I'll stop bothering the sick and tired man. We'll talk spoils distribution after you've rested more."
"Understood."
* * *
"Brother!"
When Arsen first saw Bazkal, who'd returned from outer guard duty, he had to grit his teeth to keep from laughing.
The sight of Bazkal—with the middle of his hair completely burned off—was that shocking.
Lush on the sides, but the center pitch-black and charred.
Seeing Arsen's body tremble, Bazkal spoke in a hollow tone.
"You can laugh. I know it's funny."
"......No, uh. Looks like you're okay? I remember you falling from pretty high up."
He swallowed the urge to say shaving it all off would be better and asked after his well-being instead.
It was also because he'd worried Bazkal got hurt bad falling from the lord's body.
"Falling from that height doesn't break anything, turns out. Aches here and there, but lying down? Situation's too iffy right now."
From Bazkal's rambling, Arsen got a more detailed update on the current state.
Of the fifteen knights on the expedition, six were dead, four bedridden.
Of the remaining five, all but Maroon had minor injuries, but they were taking turns on guard anyway, in case of attacks.
Almost no casualties among Arsen's soldiers, but dozens dead or wounded among the others.
"Exekia's losses were too heavy."
At Arsen's words, Bazkal shook his head.
"Heard a few surviving soldiers awakened this time. Takes time to mature properly, but that should make up for it."
"That many?"
Wondering why none of his soldiers had, Arsen quickly realized.
One knight awakening condition: facing mortal peril.
His soldiers had been safely shielded by magic and artifacts, so they hadn't hit that threshold.
Exekia's, meanwhile, had more chances to awaken amid the deaths and injuries from the crises.
'Troublesome. Can't just shove ours to the brink of death either......'
Reliable talent wasn't easy to find. Such people usually belonged to some estate or fortress.
Unless it was a hellhole like Narvik, proven talents didn't leave their turf.
Morally, it wasn't a strategy he'd choose anyway.
"Guess I need to get up. Mind helping me?"
"Where to?"
"Bathroom."
"We should make you some crutches soon."
Arsen grabbed Bazkal's offered hand to rise.
But the instant he tugged lightly to pull himself up, Bazkal suddenly screamed in pain.
"Agh! Brother! Wait, hand, my hand!"
"What?"
Arsen plopped back onto the bed and let go.
Bazkal shook his hand frantically, complaining in a aggrieved tone.
"What the—thought it was gonna break......Why grip so hard?"
"Didn't grip that hard."
Despite Arsen's words, Bazkal's hand bore clear handprints.
Distinct enough for anyone to recognize.