A Handful
"I already told you, I heal quickly even if I get hurt."
Jing clutched the back of his neck at the youth's words, which completely missed the point.
"I heal fast too! If I sprain my arm, it's fine in half a day!"
"If a hole gets blown through my stomach, I heal in a few minutes."
Jing knew that. He had seen it with his own eyes; how could he have forgotten?
"We're not having a contest to see who heals faster!"
"I'm not bragging either. So there's no need to worry. No matter what happens, I won't collapse. I can keep fighting."
At his nonchalant reply, Jing finally realized why their conversation was going in circles.
Ratel still believed the only reason he shouldn't get hurt was because he was the sole Child of Prophecy destined to destroy the holy relics and fight the Imperial Family.
The concept of someone else worrying about his pain or feeling sad for him simply did not exist in his mind.
Jing stared blankly at Ratel's pale face. How can anyone be like this?
No matter how resilient Ratel's body was, it didn't mean he couldn't feel pain. The fact that he could say such things without hesitation, despite feeling pain, meant that continuing the fight was reason enough for him to endure any agony.
But that also meant, in other words, that he viewed his own body as nothing more than a tool.
Jing lowered his voice. "Ratel. I'm not worried that you won't be able to fight anymore."
Ratel scowled, as if wondering what on earth the problem was then, but his expression gradually softened when he saw the grim look on Jing's face.
"I'm worried that you're hurting. I'm not worried about you being unable to move or collapsing because of the pain; I'm worried about the fact that you are in pain itself."
"I'll just..."
"Stop saying you'll heal anyway. Please."
Jing cut him off. He looked at Ratel with a heavy heart. He had no idea how to phrase his words to convince this stubborn youth.
The longer Jing hesitated, the stiffer Ratel's expression became. Like someone who had done something wrong, Ratel avoided his gaze. Eventually, his patience ran out, and he turned his back on Jing completely.
"I don't know what you're trying to do, but I don't have time to waste standing around talking to you, Jing."
Turning away, Ratel once again used Sierra's Sword to slice away the mass covering the floor and began channeling Manis into it. No matter how one looked at it, Ratel was in no condition to squeeze out any more Manis, so Jing stepped in to stop him again.
This time, truly angered, Ratel shook him off irritably.
"If you keep getting in my way, I won't stop at just hanging you from the ceiling next time."
Despite Ratel's chilling threat, Jing did not back down. "I told you. Brute-forcing it like this won't help. You're already exhausted to your limit."
"A little rest won't change anything. Stop wasting my time and get out of the way."
"Ratel, this is by no means a waste of time. Correcting this now is actually saving us time in the long run."
But Ratel was completely unreasonable. Deciding that words were useless, Ratel reached out to subdue him.
Startled, Jing twisted his body to dodge. The movement wasn't nearly as threatening as Ratel's usual speed. Ratel was simply too exhausted, and the ground beneath them was too unstable.
Yet, what truly shocked Jing wasn't the clumsiness of the attack. It was the mere fact that Ratel had actually attacked him.
Come to think of it, Jing suddenly realized that lately, Ratel hadn't used force or threats against him to get things done quickly.
Back in Amica's Space, and even during the early days of their journey, Ratel had habitually spat out threats. While he hadn't directly harmed Jing... often, Jing had seen his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword multiple times during their conversations.
Jing furrowed his brow, unable to pinpoint exactly when his role had shifted from being the one threatened to the one stopping Ratel from threatening others.
But Ratel kept moving, as if determined not to give him any time to ponder. Dodging a hand aimed at his collar, Jing decided to focus on stopping this foolish man first.
First, he needed to wrest Sierra's Sword from his grasp. Holding the holy relic seemed to make Ratel unstable.
Jing grabbed Ratel's overextended arm and tried to pull him down to force him to his knees, but he failed as he had to dodge a swing from Ratel's other hand.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak!!!"
El was the one thrown into a panic by the sudden scuffle. The tiny animal squeaked pitifully, scurrying up and down, but the two men were entirely focused on each other.
After just two attempts, Jing succeeded in snatching the sword from Ratel's hand. That was how sluggish Ratel had become.
"Jing, hand that over." Ratel panted, reaching out.
If he had any intention of giving it back, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of taking it in the first place. Jing tightened his grip on the sword. Then, his brow furrowed at the lukewarm, slippery sensation on his palm.
He lowered his gaze to find the source of the unpleasant sensation. Only then did Jing notice the liquid thoroughly drenching the hilt of the sword.
There was no need to wonder whose hand the mixture of blood and sweat had come from. Or how it had ended up there.
Jing looked at Ratel's palm. The reckless fool must have gripped the sword until his palms burst and bled.
Though any wounds on a man who could heal a punctured stomach had long since vanished, it didn't mean the pain he had felt was erased. Jing's eyes darkened at the literal traces of blood, sweat, and tears.
However, his sympathy and pity didn't last long. The owner of that blood and sweat lunged at Jing's legs with terrifying momentum.
His obsession with destroying the sword had now transformed into an obsession with taking it back from Jing.
Startled, Jing leaped backward, but the black mass binding his legs prevented him from completely evading the strike. Ratel's fierce attack grazed his leg. Jing grimaced at the sheer force, which left his skin stinging from a mere graze.
"If that had hit me cleanly, it would've broken my bone! Is this really necessary?!"
"If you would just hand it over, Jing, none of this would be necessary."
Bloodshot eyes tracked Jing's movements. Seeing Ratel panting heavily yet refusing to take his eyes off him, Jing became even more certain that he must not hand the sword back.
Jing let out a heavy sigh. Ratel was in no state to listen to reason.
"Don't blame me if you end up seriously hurt. I've warned you multiple times."
"I told you before, didn't I? I went easy on you in the study."
A smirk played on Ratel's lips, likely recalling what had happened back at the temple of Amica.
"You don't have to go easy on me this time. Looking at your state, I doubt you'll last very long anyway."
Jing swept his gaze over Ratel's bloodless face and drove Sierra's Sword into the squishy floor. He quickly pulled his hand away before his strength could be drained.
As Ratel stared at him, his face demanding to know what on earth he was doing, Jing spoke. "Go ahead. Take it if you can."
Suspicion flared in Ratel's eyes, but it quickly faded. To the current Ratel, nothing was more important than Sierra's Sword.
Jing smiled bitterly at the foolish choice to rashly reach for the sword. It was obvious Ratel was intent on picking it up first, completely failing to gauge just how exhausted he was.
While he felt angry seeing Ratel lose his reason to his obsession with the holy relic, a wave of pity washed over him at the same time. After all, the ones who had driven this young man to such extremes were none other than themselves, who had lived in the Abaran Empire.
But pity was pity, and what needed to be done had to be done. The moment Ratel recklessly grabbed Sierra's Sword, Jing raised his fist.
A look of dismay flashed across Ratel's face as he realized his mistake too late, sword in hand. But Jing, viewing this as a necessary lesson in the harsh realities of life, swung his fist straight down onto his head.
Thwack! Thud! Two distinct impacts echoed between them.
"Ugh..."
Jing collapsed, clutching his leg. The second, slightly delayed impact had been the sound of Ratel kicking Jing's right leg.
Jing looked down at the stubborn face of the boy who had managed to land a counterattack even in that split second. Despite being knocked unconscious by Jing's heavy blow to the head, his brow was still deeply furrowed.
Jing was slightly worried about the ominous sound that had come from Ratel's skull due to his failure to control his strength, but looking down at his own rapidly swelling right leg, his throbbing conscience felt somewhat appeased.
Dragging Ratel by the scruff of his neck with one hand and holding Sierra's Sword in the other, Jing trudged through the squelching floor. Suppressing the growing urge to abandon him every time his kicked leg throbbed, he finally reached the exit of the cave.
"Squeak..."
Possessing an excellent survival instinct, the squirrel, El, had already settled securely on his shoulder, letting out soft whimpers.
After struggling to pull out Ratel, whose knees had sunk into the muck during the drag, Jing tossed him out of the exit. Seeing him land with a dull thud, Jing dragged himself out as well.
The moment his feet touched solid ground, Jing flung Sierra's Sword away. It clattered against the floor and rolled until it finally stopped upon hitting the cave wall.
Watching El scurry down from his shoulder to approach the sword, Jing leaned his back against the cave wall.
Now that he had a moment to think, all the things he had put off came rushing back to consume his mind.
He had come all this way following the words of the skinny priest and the mutant Orc, and he had tried to destroy Sierra's Sword as they said, but in the end, he had failed.
Now that both of them were gone, the realization that he had to find a new direction to move forward brought a wave of exhaustion, and Jing closed his eyes.
No, he shouldn't be too discouraged. At any rate, hadn't the holy relic fallen into their hands?
The mutant Orc had told him to pierce that black mass with the sword in an emergency. He could start from there. Yes, he would start from there.
As Jing calmed his racing thoughts, a sudden question occurred to him, and he opened his eyes.
"Why was Ratel hacking away at that thing?"
Jing recalled Ratel, who hadn't shown himself until just before Jing lost consciousness. Had he jumped into that black mass immediately after placing him and Lia safely above? There was no obvious connection between the sword and that black mass.
Just then, he felt someone moving beside him. Jing assumed it was Ratel.
"Ratel, perfect timing. Why did you..."
Opening his eyes to ask his question, Jing flinched at the sensation of a small hand grasping his in the darkness. It wasn't Ratel.
Jing froze at the gender-neutral voice of the stranger who knew his true identity.