Put Away the Sword
Ilisha, who had collapsed, was breathing raggedly. If not for the blood staining her lips, one might have thought it was just a fracture somewhere or a bad case of flu.
But her internals were far worse than they appeared. Even when Cecilia channeled holy power into her body, it kept leaking out in strange places. Her meridians had been shredded by the overflowing ether. They were completely ruined, forcing the ice-affinity ether to course through her muscles and blood vessels instead. That was the cause of her current state—muscles freezing solid, organs pierced by ice crystals.
Cecilia had somehow saved her life by weaving spells to extract the ice ether forming those crystals while healing the organs. But the muscles and nerves were the problem. No matter how much holy power restored them, damage this severe couldn't be perfectly reversed. Holy power seemed almost omnipotent at a glance, but it wasn't truly so. It was merely a fragment of the divine authority granted out of pity for wayward children. And since those flawed children wielded it imperfectly, they could never match the miracles their Parent had demonstrated.
Even with holy power's healing, the damage accumulated steadily. Minor injuries healed with time, but Ilisha kept arriving torn or ruptured before her body could recover naturally... Her body, which seemed fragile yet freakishly resilient, was finally reaching its limit.
Cecilia knew. She knew Ilisha wouldn't live long. She'd known from the first moment she treated her. She knew her condition worsened with every injury that brought her here. Still, she'd turned a blind eye. Because it was Ilisha's wish. Because she wanted to indulge in what she loved, even if only for a short time. Because spending her remaining days happily seemed better.
But seeing her like this now, Cecilia thought she should have stopped it. She should have scolded her harshly and forbidden her from touching a sword. No matter how much joy it brought, pleasure from self-harm wasn't true joy. She should have told her to abandon that dream.
"...Haa."
A sigh escaped—not from the fatigue of channeling holy power, but from not knowing how to broach it with her. Many days left to live? No more swords? Leave the Academy and return to the safe North?
What could she say? Either way, it would devastate Ilisha. Cecilia had wanted to cheer on her dream as before, but now she could see its end was her ruin. She couldn't support it blindly anymore.
What salvation has our Parent prepared for this child? Blasphemous as it was, the thought crossed her mind. Did salvation even exist for her?
Shaking her head to dispel the wicked notion, Cecilia withdrew her hands.
"...For now, the worst is over."
"Is she... okay?"
Ern looked at Cecilia and asked. She shook her head slowly in response.
"No, she's not. I failed to fully heal her leg. Unless a miracle happens..."
Ern's emotions flared at the answer, and he nearly shouted.
"You mean one leg is crippled?!"
"...No, not that bad. But running like before will be impossible. With a cane, she should walk."
As Cecilia explained that one leg would lack strength, Ilisha seemed to snap to awareness and struggled to sit up, wobbling.
"What... does that mean?"
Ilisha wore an expression Cecilia had never seen before. Anxiety.
"I'm sorry, Ilisha. It's my failing—side effects remain."
"N-no! How is it your fault, Cecilia? If anyone's to blame, it's me for getting carried in injured!"
Seeing her ramble excuses tore at Cecilia's heart. She could resent me right now. But blaming herself instead... it hurt.
I'm sorry. That this is all I could do.
"Um... the leg. So, when will it heal...?"
"I don't know. Truly."
"Huh?"
"It depends on you, Ilisha. If you avoid injury, don't overdo it, eat and sleep well, it might heal... but it might not. Ilisha."
"I see..."
Her face went blank, then somber. She tried moving her right leg, but it wouldn't obey.
"It's real... Well, it'll heal eventually!"
She shook off the gloom and smiled again.
"...Yes. It had better."
"Anyway, Cecilia! Listen! Lately, I've been getting better with the sword!"
Like an excited child, she recounted everything that led to her being carried here. She was thoroughly misunderstanding.
"Ilisha. You said igniting aura no longer hurts, right?"
"Yes!"
"Your meridians tore, so ether flows through muscles and nerves instead."
"Huh?"
"Simple example: If a bag stuffed with sand to the bursting point ruptures, it won't be taut anymore, right?"
"Right, since the bag burst. But how does that relate...?"
Ilisha tilted her head, confused.
"The bag is your meridians. Tautness is pain. Sand is ether."
"So... normally, using ether hurts because so much flows it nearly tears meridians. But this time, meridians tore completely, so no pain?"
"...Yes."
"But why no pain if meridians tore...?"
"Ice ether's nature—stasis, slowdown, halt. It numbs even pain."
"...Ah, ha?"
Ilisha still seemed lost, so Ern supplemented from the side.
"Easier: Your body's so wrecked, you won't even feel the pain."
"Ah..."
"Yes, Ilisha. You swing the sword more easily not because you're better, but because you're more broken."
By then, Ilisha's smile had vanished. She was starting to grasp the severity.
"Ehehe. But the sword felt great..."
Even forcing a laugh amid that, Cecilia couldn't hold back.
"Ilisha. Stop wielding the sword now. At least until your leg heals."
Cruel words, telling her to let go of the sword.
Ilisha stared blankly, blinking.
"...I'm sorry. But I can't watch you break more."
Cecilia gripped her hand, declaring it. Ilisha said nothing.
No trace of a smile on Ilisha's face as she limped along. Was hearing she must abandon the sword such a shock? Or learning about her leg?
Ern wanted to guess which, but he wasn't so tactless in her presence.
"Need help?"
"I'm fine, I can walk this much. If not, use the sword as a cane... Ugh."
He supported her as her posture faltered.
"...Rest today?"
At that, Ilisha flashed a crooked smile.
"Heh. Why? Hoping I'll stay put obediently?"
Her venomous tone startled him momentarily, but thinking it over, she wasn't wrong. He did hope she'd cause no more trouble.
"...Ah, sorry. Just... nerves on edge for a sec. Hehe. Never snapped like that before."
"...Makes sense. So, what do you want?"
"Hm... Maybe visit Lucia? Wonder if the magic hall heard. Or are they just testing?"
Her smile returned, but that flash of venom lingered in his mind. Had she brushed it off, or harbored it? That he wanted her gone from the Academy.
……
He still thought so. Just stay quietly in the Northern Duke's house until life's end.
But the fight with that magic beast earlier stirred a thought. He wanted to know more about her. How did she know the beast? It only appeared after the Great Wall fell.
Yet she fought as if she knew its counters. No precognition or super senses—she lacked those.
Only one conclusion left. She knew the beast.
How? ...Regression?
Was he not the only regressor? Was she one too?
If so, it explained her new behaviors. Raised like a caged bird in the North, a second chance might make her crave the world.
He failed to save it, so he tries again. She never saw it, so she yearns to.
If she's a regressor.
But how to ask? That was the dilemma. Is she really? Would she even answer?
Nothing certain. For now, he'd grant her request. The best he could do.