Eliana Arc 014: Crisis on the Northern Frontier
They had reached the north. The implication was simple: a place more remote than anywhere else in the Claire Empire. No inns in sight, naturally no restaurants either. All they could do was lean against the carriage, enduring the worsening chill.
Kalen scanned for a suitable rest spot and brought the carriage to a halt. Between driving, preparing meals, and soothing Eliana's anxieties at intervals, there was no end to his duties. On top of that, he couldn't rest right away—he had to wait for her to fall asleep, then catch his own shut-eye on the driver's seat. Thanks to Everchan's consideration, it wasn't too uncomfortable, but it wasn't something one could easily endure.
After meticulously checking the surroundings and confirming no threats lurked nearby, Kalen climbed back aboard—not to the driver's seat, but into the compartment where Eliana waited.
"Kalen..."
The setting had changed, but the scene was little different from inside her room at the Rakatus Duke Estate. Noting her gaze toward the opening door, Kalen moved to her side.
How many such days had passed? It had started about a week ago, when Eliana, bored, had invited him inside the carriage. As dusk painted the sky and rest time arrived, Kalen would join her, keeping her company. It wasn't a chore. Hearing about her past held a peculiar fascination—especially since those old childhood memories shifted in tiny details with each retelling.
As soon as Kalen sat beside her, Eliana eagerly adjusted to meet his eye level. In the dim light, she gently cupped his face and drew it close to hers.
Physically, there was nothing amiss with Eliana. If anything, her delicate beauty could captivate any man. When such a woman stared intently at close range, holding your face... it was even more potent.
But Kalen was bone-tired. Even one accustomed to a wild life would feel the strain after several weeks on end.
With their eyes level, Eliana began speaking naturally, and Kalen planned to listen quietly until she drifted off, as always.
The only difference was the slight hoarseness in her voice.
"Haa... haa..."
Kalen sensed something off around that moment.
"Miss?"
"Haa..."
Her cheeks flushed red. Her breaths came ragged. Her hands and lips trembled. The deep eyes that should have met his stared downward instead, her storytelling voice fallen silent. What echoed now were Eliana's labored sighs.
Cough!
As she hacked once, blood splattered—right onto Kalen's face.
"Ah, ah... sorry... Kalen..."
He wiped his face, confirming the blood, and his expression hardened utterly. Touching her forehead revealed a fever like a blazing coal.
More critically, the agony of her mana overheating disease—which she'd endured just fine moments ago—was intensifying. Mana waves began rippling around her. Vomiting blood, raging fever, worsening symptoms even affecting those nearby like him.
The gravest issue was Eliana's condition itself.
Fortunate or unfortunate? Kalen knew exactly what this phenomenon signified.
—Just in case, commit this to memory.
—What is it, my lord?
—It's rare for my daughter to venture out, so a little caution won't hurt.
Eliana's incurable illness and its sole prior occurrence—a freak anomaly.
—If mana ripples around my daughter, keep your distance and observe.
—...Pardon? You've assigned me as her guard, yet tell me to back off if trouble arises?
—You heard right. It hasn't happened since, but if it does, stay away.
—Why is that?
—Because no one can intervene. You might fare differently... but I doubt it. Everyone nearby perished when it last occurred. Their internal mana detonated, pulverizing their organs.
—...
—Should I have heeded that fragile child's cries for salvation? Even now, I'm not sure. As family head, I couldn't lead the house to pointless deaths.
This was different from the chronic heart pain he'd suffered years ago. Now, something boiled not just in his heart, but throughout his entire body.
—The symptoms subside eventually—takes time, but they do. So keep your distance and watch.
—My lord.
—What?
—Do you also suffer mana overheating symptoms when approaching her?
—Of course. Otherwise, would I leave my beloved daughter suffering alone?
Even then, Everchan had chuckled heavily, but to Kalen, that smile carried a different weight.
Snapping from his reverie, Kalen gazed at Eliana, collapsed face-down like she'd tumbled onto the bed.
He hadn't heard of vomiting or fever before, so this was undoubtedly worse than last time. He couldn't bank on it resolving if left alone.
Cough! Cough!
The pristine bedding was now soaked scarlet with blood.
"Hic...! Sniff...! Cough...!"
Watching her back shudder violently, Kalen moved his hand quietly.
Earlier, when her demeanor had suddenly shifted from wary, they'd talked. To his question about loneliness in her room, she'd admitted it. The biggest reason? Absence of blood kin. She occasionally chatted with Emma, but parents' love intrigued her endlessly. Even absent that, she craved conversation with someone—out of curiosity for affection, wondering what it felt like to grow up loved. Even after giving up, the loneliness lingered. The frail young lady remained confined, awaiting death.
"It hurts...! Hic! No...! It hurts!!"
Carefully, Kalen supported her body and drew her into his arms. Eliana was no longer in her right mind. Blood smeared her mouth and nose.
Blood staining Kalen as he held her was inevitable. Yet he remained impassive—as if nothing were amiss—simply holding her.
"Shh..."
"Haak...! Krgh...! It huuurts...!!"
Creak—
What does one crave most on death's doorstep? Ideally, eliminate the cause—but impossible now. The answer: something to cling to. Give them an object to grip through pain, a listener for their turmoil.
Kalen offered himself as that anchor.
"Aahk...! Hic...!"
Her flailing hands wrapped around him, sharp nails raking his flesh. Hard to believe from such a frail, illness-weakened body. When life hangs by a thread, superhuman strength surges.
Wounds torn by her hands, blood spewing from her mouth. Kalen's body drenched crimson, pain from gashes and torn flesh doubled by mana overheating.
Yielding his body fully as her anchor, Kalen reflected.
'She said it hurts less with me nearby.'
When they first met, Eliana had felt her mind oddly clear, like fog lifting. Her mana-overheat frenzy—his unique constitution might counter it.
That was Kalen's conclusion. Holding her wasn't just for comfort.
Like when he'd driven 2nd Hierarchy magic into his own body to save Sinat.
Like now, desperate to ease her illness.
A familiar recklessness.
Uncharacteristically, Kalen let out a soft pfft of laughter. Amid shredded flesh and blood reek, he stroked her back.
"Shh..."
"—!!"
On the northern frontier of the Claire Empire continent, amid that plain, a somber, ink-black world unfurled around the shabby carriage left abandoned. They should have had exactly three days left to reach the north, as planned.
Stench. The stench permeated everything. A far cry from the world of a noble lady like Eliana.
Yet the carriage reeked.
"Urgh... hic...! It, it huuurts... hurts..."
Chaos. A fitting word for the surroundings enveloping Kalen and Eliana.
Blood and vomit everywhere—not excluding Kalen. Better than at first, but she still spat blood every few hours. Vomiting joined in, and Kalen bore the brunt.
Cleaning artifacts were useless. He didn't know how; she lacked the wits. Wiping blood and bile while drenched fell to him.
Kalen fared little better. Absorbing her thrashing left wounds and scars aplenty.
But it worked. Rarely, her sanity flickered back—enough for him to clean occasionally.
From dawn to dusk, sleepless through the day. As she whimpered in terror and pain, Kalen held her, murmuring quietly.
Their talks, great and small. Her hazy childhood memories. Things she'd do if a miracle granted a future.
In essence, fueling her will to live.
Not fully lucid, her words tumbled out. Most common: hurts, scary, hate. Then: wanna die, lonely. Especially when sanity returned, even more so.
"Why... why me..."
"I don't know either."
"..."
Though assigned as guard, no reason demanded such suffering. Yet Kalen had said it himself.
For Sinat, it was debt and memories. Not so with Eliana.
Still, the reason aligned. What he'd told Blamia, rebuking himself while saving Sinat.
Couldn't stand seeing her suffer. No deeper motive.
Before meeting Blamia, he'd thrashed for life himself. Perhaps a faint resemblance. Simply: she looked ready to die, so he'd save her. No one knew her zest for life better than Kalen.
"Miss."
"Haa... haa..."
"Shall we make a bet?"
"What..."
"Whether you'll live to see Winter Island."
Eliana felt dazed at his abrupt wager. Her body a wreck, yet he proposed a bet. Plenty reason to resent her.
Shuddering, she lifted her head to meet his eyes. For a moment, not the shadowy silhouette she'd seen, but Kalen's clear face—lips seemingly curved up.
She blacked out again soon after. But her mind swirled with his whisper: her image, the bet.