About Vitality -1-
In the banquet hall where the heretics had launched their assault.
"..."
Mikhail came to his senses and propped up his weary body, pressing a hand to his throbbing forehead.
How the hell did this happen?
He had no memory after taking down the Archbishop of Blasphemy. Was it the backlash from pushing his power to the limit? The last thing he remembered amid his darkening vision was Ricardo's back as he walked away.
-It's over now.
-I can still fight...!
-You weren't going to kill him anyway.
-Kill him...? You don't mean...!
-Yeah, better to cut loose ends.
"Urgh..."
His body ached like it was about to shatter. Under Shartia's command, most of the academy students had evacuated outside, leaving only Yuria, Hanna, and the student council president as witnesses to the whole scene. Unlike him collapsed on the floor, they were unharmed and under the knights' protection.
Mikhail decided to ask them for the truth later and let out a deep sigh.
"Is it finally over...?"
It had been a brutal fight. Facing an opponent beyond his reach. That ominous premonition that he might die—it was the first since his slum days. Battling someone who wielded cursed magic hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd hoped, full of countless variables. Above all, surviving those killing blows terrified him. Unlike the archbishop's black greatsword, dripping with thick murderous intent and aimed straight for his throat.
Staring at his own frail form, Mikhail ground his teeth, blaming his inadequacy. If only he'd been a little stronger, he could have protected everyone. If Ricardo hadn't stepped in, there might have even been casualties. The thought made fury rise from deep within, and he clenched his fist to suppress it.
Damn it...
Again... this time too...! That bastard? Fuck.
Mikhail slammed his fist into the floor, venting his frustration. His teeth chattered with rage at the fact that he'd needed help from a murderer.
The guy who tormented Yuria, felt no guilt over killing. Someone with that much power should help others, not rampage for personal gain. The humiliation of relying on him again boiled Mikhail's blood.
Amid the flood of regret, Mikhail wondered where Ricardo had gone. There was no sign of him anywhere in the banquet hall.
He scanned the room, eyes lifting to the knights hauling away heretic corpses and the collapsed ceiling in the center. But that guy was nowhere.
Not finding any trace of Ricardo, Mikhail clenched his fist tighter. He must have hidden again. Stirring up trouble and fleeing. Vanishing to dodge any unfavorable testimony. The image fueled his anger.
"Ricardo...!"
As chaotic thoughts swirled...
"You're Cadet Mikhail, right?"
A knight with brown hair approached. The stern-looking man held a notebook and pen. Seeing the imperial crest embossed in gold on his sword hilt, Mikhail realized he was from the Imperial Knights.
Elite swordsmen who graduated top of their class from the academy.
Malik flipped open his notebook and began questioning Mikhail.
"I need to ask a few things for the report. Can you cooperate?"
He inquired about the incident: what happened in the banquet hall, how the heretics ambushed them, who they were.
-What were the exact time and date?
-Around 19:20, I think.
-Enemy numbers and scale?
-...I don't really know. It all happened so fast.
-Hmm... I see.
Suddenly, Mikhail sensed something off in the knight's questions. They were standard for piecing together the truth, but they skipped the most crucial part.
Who fought them? How did the battle unfold? Who claimed the biggest achievement? The omissions felt wrong.
Overcome by unease, Mikhail shot back at the knight droning on with his queries.
"Why aren't you asking about the fighting?"
"Hm?"
"You're only getting situational testimony. Who fought who, how the battle went—why skip the important stuff?"
"Ah."
The man snapped his notebook shut and answered.
"That's already been investigated."
"What?"
"Red hair. You know him?"
"..."
Ricardo.
The keyword flashed Ricardo's face in Mikhail's mind. The one who'd claimed the greatest feat in this incident—and committed merciless slaughter. The moment he heard the name of the man who'd hung back without direct aid, Mikhail assumed the knight had bad intel.
Ricardo was a chronic liar, impossible to read.
He'd probably said something like,
'I did it all.'
That was his go-to line, the answer from someone clueless about humility. Mikhail figured the dungeon incident with Yuria had been swept under thanks to Ricardo's shameless testimony. Same here, no doubt.
But.
"He said you were the hero. Without you, everyone would've died. You pulled off the biggest feat."
"What...? What does that even mean?"
"Exactly what you heard."
The idiotic response left Mikhail reeling. Was this for real?
"In the fight with the so-called Archbishop of Blasphemy, you teamed up with Shartia to secure victory."
"The heretic remnants were beaten back by the academy students. In the process, the wanted criminal Hans—former academy student—took heavy wounds and fled."
Mikhail's eyes trembled as he looked to Shartia, then Yuria and Hanna. Tell me what's going on, his gaze pleaded. But everyone who met his eyes looked awkward, avoiding contact. Shartia with helpless resignation, Yuria grim, Hanna seething.
"No way," Mikhail spat at the Imperial Knight. They had it wrong. Ricardo wouldn't say that—it had to be a mix-up with someone else's testimony. His voice weary, he insisted,
"Wait... I didn't do that. The archbishop fight was mostly Ri—"
"Testimonies are done."
"You need to hear mine."
"No. While you were out cold, we got statements from Yuria, the Third Imperial Princess, Hanna Histania, and Ricardo. More would be redundant."
The knight cut him off and turned away.
Mikhail reached out a trembling hand toward the departing figure.
"Then Ricardo...!"
"Ah... that guy?"
Malik chuckled softly, smiling as he recalled his own past experience—this kid was going through the exact same thing.
"Said he had to head back. No overnight stays allowed."
"What...?"
"Anyway, that's the rundown."
Malik laughed heartily and strode into the banquet hall to wrap things up.
Another peaceful day at the mansion.
Having settled things with the heretics and cleared the quest admirably, I was back in the Hamel estate, feeding apple slices to the young miss.
"Ahh."
"No."
"Ah...!"
"Apples suck. I want chocolate."
"We don't grow that. Open wide."
"Ugh... ahh."
The young miss crunched into the apple slice and nodded, offering her verdict.
"Good, right?"
"No. No chocolate apples?"
"Those don't exist."
"Eeeek...! Make some!"
"I'll try."
"Mmm."
Rubbing her sleepy eyes in the warm morning sun, the young miss struggled to shake off the fatigue from last night's carriage ride. For a sleep-loving lady, lack of rest was a formidable foe. Perched on the bed, she nodded off drowsily, lost in languor.
Three days since completing the Protect Yuria quest.
She still had no idea I could use magic—I'd kept it hidden tight, saving the reveal for a surprise. I was dying to see her face when the girl who couldn't even cast Fireball learned I was a magic powerhouse.
And I hadn't checked the quest reward yet.
Info on Vitality. I'd meant to right after success, but things got too hectic, so I'd put it off.
Tonight, maybe. As I fed her another apple slice, I mulled over what Vitality might be.
Vitality. The force that drives life.
Hmm...
Honestly, one guess sprang to mind, but please let it not be that.
Vitality only pointed to one thing in my head.
Lifespan.
What else but dying?
I fed her the apple with a light heart and waited for evening to roll around.