The Rabbit is Dead – A Bloodied Survivor Collapses
A blood-soaked patient suddenly appeared before me. A woman who collapsed face-down without giving me a chance to ask what happened. I grimaced slightly and approached her. From the spot she'd been clutching, it looked like wounds to her abdomen and neck. Carefully flipping her over to check, blood was gushing out in spurts from what looked like a ragged tear in her throat. Lifting her top just a bit revealed a similar gash in her side. The sudden surge in bleeding... probably because she'd lost consciousness. She'd been staunching it with an aura barrier projected outside her body, it seemed. Thanks to that, her condition looked surprisingly stable for such a fatal throat wound. Of course, that stability only lasted until she passed out.
"You toppled wine cup, come to my side."
I pressed my cane against her faintly heaving chest. A blue serpent of aura flowed into her body, clamping down hard on both wounds. Maintaining that contact, I slowly lowered the cane. The tip rested gently on her abdomen, wrapped in swirling blue mist.
"Share that breath even closer."
⟨ Flame Seal ⟩
A spark flared with a tick, instantly coiling around the cane. The flames climbed toward my hand as if to devour it, but I repelled them with a burst of aura. The fire burned only downward, searing only where the cane touched the beastkin woman's abdomen. A sizzle rose with a nauseating stench. Of all the timing, right after eating meat.
"Urk...!" Beni actually dry-heaved at the roasting aroma.
"You can step back if you'd like."
As I cauterized the throat wound too, I told her that. It was a natural reaction for someone unfamiliar with this. On-site, it happened as routinely as eating, so everyone got used to it—but she was just an ordinary student with no military experience.
"Ah, no. I can't just leave you to handle this alone while you're working so hard..."
"Then let's do it this way, Miss Beni. Please fetch a guard with Miss Riley."
"Ah... Yes, I'll be right back!"
Blood was bubbling from her nose and mouth, and recalling her ragged breathing earlier, her airway was damaged too. Cauterizing it roughly was just a stopgap. I'd stemmed the bleeding at the cost of wrecking her airway even more—she'd suffocate if left like this. But it would buy at least 1-2 minutes. Plenty of time to chant a healing spell.
"Oh, my splendid friend, come hither."
I swung the cane wide to extinguish the flames and began chanting.
"Hopping on golden hooves, frisking mid-air, spreading wings to soar whoosh-whoosh, splashing fins in the waves—"
I tapped the woman's throat several times with the still-hot cane.
"Well done. How could I not know? You're my comrade. You've already arrived!"
⟨ 1st Circle: Spatial Regulation ⟩
1st Circle spell: Spatial Regulation. No direct effect. Its essence was designating an area via the cane—a foundation for activating certain other spells, meaningless on its own.
"My old love, embroidered with flowers, so pretty in silk sleeves. I'll give you that sleeve—wipe your tears. What good are tears wasted in vain?"
⟨ 4th Circle: Healing Dew ⟩
I converted a massive amount of aura to mana. It sucked right in. 4th Circle spell: Healing Dew. For injuries, it was near-universal healing magic. It couldn't fully erase scars, but if you brought the right parts, it could reattach severed limbs. No need for medical knowledge from the caster was another plus.
But despite all that, Healing Dew was an unloved spell with rock-bottom usage rates. First drawback: insane mana cost. An average mage could cast it once or twice before considering retreat from the battlefield. And it was a 4th Circle spell to boot. Why waste a high-circle mage—who had endless versatile options—on a one-use heal? Especially with Holy Method, its superior counterpart, available.
So unless circumstances were truly unique, it was dead weight. Even in the 2nd Combat Military Band, with holy knights dispatched from the Holy Kingdom, we rarely needed it. And I had aura and mana to spare—still, same story. I only had one mouth; better to chant other spells in that time.
I watched as even the fresh red burn marks rewound against time. Bringing a hand near her nose, she was coughing up pooled blood irregularly but breathing steadily enough. ...Compared to moments ago, this was "fine."
I extended the cane to her abdomen before the healing window closed. Glancing aside, Beni and Riley had already left. Well, they'd be back soon. Guards on patrol were easy to find on the main street.
Of course, the "guards" were military. This city was essentially a garrison. I was here on club advisor duties, half-touristy though it felt. Bluntly put: a "star" visiting the "garrison" for "work." Alert levels were probably 150% up. I wished they'd just treat me casually—no need for that—but right now, it helped.
Getting tangled in trouble on the way to the main street? Unlikely. Even if her attacker was involved... probably safe. Too much blood for her to have walked here barely alive. And staggering like that? Hard to miss.
'They couldn't finish the job for some reason and had to bolt...'
...Or she was no longer traceable.
I eyed her blood-smeared hands. Slick with blood from pressing her wounds. Maybe not all hers. Easy to imagine she'd killed her foe—or half-killed them—and escaped. Or the opposite: she'd been counterattacked.
No way to know the full story or who was right. Better to find her unknown "opponent" quick—dead or alive.
I withdrew the cane, planting it on the ground instead of her and stepping forward. Easy to follow her trail of blood. And... it stopped after less than 20 meters.
Three corners turned. Hard to call it "right around the corner," but close. Alley between a large harness workshop and a smaller one—shops all shuttered and quiet this late. The blood trail ended in the gap.
Or rather, began there. Messy space—fight or neglect? Blood spatters everywhere—
'...This would've been instant death.'
A woman with her head smashed into the wall. Strictly, "presumed," since the head was pulverized beyond recognition. Just a lump of meat atop the neck, cracked wall from impact, and scattered blood and flesh around.
Whatever the details, hypothesis confirmed: she'd killed her foe and escaped. The process, though...
'Hmm.'
Unnaturally quiet around. Aura or mana clash creating a sound-null zone? Magic? Bloodied knife on the ground pointed to aura.
Ambush throat-slash, but counterattack smashed head into wall. Then a desperate side-swipe... Both wounds deep enough. Without beastkin vitality, she might've died before reaching us.
"Instructor!"
Riley's shout came as I pondered.
"Ah, Miss Riley."
"You tell us to get people, then vanish? What gives!"
"Sorry for worrying you."
I bowed lightly. Might've saved another dying soul, I thought. Self-justification possible, but still—I'd vanished silently in a crisis. Of course she'd worry. For my sake, even. Better take it meekly.
"Huh? Worry?"
"...Pardon? What's with that look?"
"Why would a pillar worry...?"
"Do you ever forget I'm human too...?"
Her utterly baffled expression drew it out of me.
"Uh... Falling from cloud height without a scratch? Even physics forgot you're human."
"......"
Where'd they hide my Riley and swap in this Doppelganger? My girl couldn't sling sarcasm like that.
...Though, truth be told, Riley had always been sneakily sharp-tongued. Sharp enough to question if she was really "dumb." Her usual antics made it seem like delusion.
"Long live the Emperor!"
"Long live the Emperor. Thanks for your tireless duty."
A soldier dashed up silently in the frozen quiet, saluting hastily. An officer would've preemptively saluted first and griped—but enlisted ranked below warrant officer. Pity.
"Miss Beni... the blonde glasses girl."
"Ah, she's at the scene, explaining to my partner after reporting."
Ah, got it. Explained why solo. Patrol should've been in pairs...
...Wait.
"Why leave her alone?"
"Uh... She's not alone, two over there..."
"Miss Beni's a civilian outsider too? What makes you trust leaving her without backup?"
"......Ah."
If Beni or Riley were threats, she'd be sliced before help arrived. The soldier paled—not at "might've," but "will."
Three chevrons: corporal. No excuse for ignorance. Imperial service longer than Korea's, promotions slower—no slacking on pairs. Habit in panic.
"Be careful next time. No report up the chain."
"Th-thank you!"
No point yelling; wouldn't fix it. Priorities elsewhere.
"Can I leave this to the military now?"
"Yes, sir! Hand it over!"
Then... not my problem. As first discoverer, I'd give a statement—that's it. No meddling. Outsider solving their case? Messy for authority, principles, their careers. One dead, one secured—Safel Dulla folks would handle fine. No need for fuss. Quiet investigation till results—
"Famous people really do need to watch their backs constantly."
"...Famous? What do you mean, Miss Riley?"
"Uh... Didn't you check her face?"
No, gore-covered and dim anyway...
"I barely saw it either, but guards confirmed! Only one rabbit beastkin in the city."
"One rabbit beastkin...?"
Only one I'd seen here. And "famous"...
"...My god."
Berele, the rabbit beastkin. Safel Dulla's—no, the Empire's top jockey, a celebrity.
'So much for quiet handling?'
I silently prayed for the Safel Dulla military police commander's rank insignia. Gambling city lived up: wagering a lifetime promotion.