Thud!
As the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow echoed, the once pristine white expanse revealed a dark reality. The snow was stained red with blood, scattered flesh, and broken weapons.
Following the trail of blood…
As he walked past the sprawled bodies of his brothers…
At the end of his journey stood ‘it.’
It was chomp!ing down on something, making grotesque noises. Blood and saliva dripped from its gaping maw.
Creak.
The creature that was devouring humans slowly lifted its head to face Lac. Lac, in turn, stared at it, etching its appearance into his memory.
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The left half of its body was covered in fur.
The right half was a jumbled mix of various life forms.
Only the half-body was complete, making it all the more grotesque. Something that was neither beast nor human nor monster stood there. With every movement of its jaw, thick blood splattered onto the ground.
A black beast.
Barta, the King of Beasts.
As Lac etched the nightmare that was Barta into his mind, he slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was no snow, no nightmare—only the familiar ceiling above him.
Lac awakened.
Blink, blink.
After several blinks, Lac slowly tried to sit up. No, he was attempting to get up. But as he exerted himself, his whole body screamed in protest, and he could only tilt his head slightly.
“Moving like that will only worsen your wounds.”
As the pain surged through his body, a voice echoed in his ears. Lac turned his head slightly to the side.
“Are you awake?”
Saint Natida.
She was looking down at Lac.
2.
After waking up, Lac had to piece together the situation for a while. His body was wrapped in bandages, and empty potion bottles lay scattered on the shelf.
Erm… I can’t really move.
Even moving a single finger was a struggle.
Well, he had anticipated this outcome after pushing himself despite such injuries. He abandoned the idea of getting up and merely glanced at Natida.
“…How long have I been out?”
“I think it’s been about two days.”
Natida rubbed her eyes and yawned widely. Upon closer inspection, her eyes looked quite bloodshot, as if she hadn’t slept for days.
“Don’t try to move. You need to stay lying down all day today if you want to be able to move tomorrow.”
Natida managed a bitter smile.
“It takes some time. I’m not particularly gifted at healing, you see.”
She let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“Isn’t it funny? I, a Saint, am the worst at the miracle of healing.”
It wasn’t exactly funny.
Lac had learned under a quirky professor who would crush enemies’ skulls bare-handed despite being a mage. A Saint not being skilled in healing was nothing…
“……”
Lac stared silently at his hands.
Natida held Lac’s hand, channeling divine energy into him. He felt the coolness, like autumn wind, circulating through his body.
Natida may have no talent in healing, but…
His battered body was healing at a swift pace. The damaged blood vessels and torn muscles were steadily returning to their original state due to her relentless efforts.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I should at least help you recover.”
“That’s one thing, but…”
Lac momentarily swallowed hard.
Just because he had slept for two straight days, it didn’t mean he had forgotten what happened prior. The memories of his encounter with the beast, the death of his brothers, still lingered vividly.
And, the countless beasts heading north.
When he saw the pack of monsters heading toward the castle wall, Lac felt something crumble inside him. He vividly envisioned the North engulfed in flames.
’…Even while heading towards the castle wall.’
As his abilities to move returned…
Even after a while, Lac had inwardly half-believed that many would have died. With a heart heavy as if the wall was about to collapse, he headed inside, only to witness…
A miracle unfold.
No one had died.
And the Saint who wrought this miracle said with indifference that it was due to someone removing the commander from the battlefield. That remark made Lac feel a small sense of salvation.
“Thank you for protecting the North from the monster horde.”
And, murmured Lac as he added,
“Thank you for ensuring that the deaths of my brothers were not in vain.”
“Thanks to you,” Natida replied.
Whose thanks was that? It must have referred to the warriors, including Oyakal, who had held back that beast and herself. That single phrase was worth more to Lac than anything else.
“Is there really anything to be thankful for?”
Natida replied with a smirk.
“The difficult battle and the ease with which it was won were all thanks to you, noble sir. My role was more of a cleanup detail, if anything.”
Receiving thanks made Natida somewhat uncomfortable. She had always thought of herself as unworthy of such recognition.
“If perhaps Sir Kalt had come instead, or someone else had arrived, the situation might have turned out better.”
Rania had many capable subordinates, and among them, Natida was keenly aware of her own inadequacies. She thought that Rania had taken her in out of pity.
“If someone else had come…”
“I am thanking you.”
Lac interrupted Natida.
Natida blinked in surprise, gazing at Lac.
“I’m thanking you for being there at the most needed moment and in the most needed place to protect the North, rather than for someone who wasn’t there.”
Lac said firmly.
He wasn’t one for beating around the bush. He spoke plainly what he felt and concluded.
“Once again, thank you.”
Wanting to bow but unable to move, Lac could only nod slightly, making Natida unexpectedly burst into laughter. It was quite a comical sight.
“Sorry for breaking the serious mood, hehe…”
As she laughed heartily, Lac merely blinked. Natida tilted her head slightly, her shoulders shaking lightly for a moment.
“Huff, sigh…”
After exhaling deeply, she smiled.
A genuine smile, unlike her usual facade.
“If you think so, then may I ask for a small reward in return?”
“If it’s something I can grant, anything.”
Natida, who had preserved the warriors’ dignity, replied with a serious tone, and Natida waved her hands dismissively, spreading her right hand wide.
“Five hours.”
“…Huh?”
“The Holy Sword, for five hours.”
In brief, she requested to be bathed in the light of the First Holy Sword for five hours. Lac’s expression instantly turned cold. Natida watched him, slyly folding one finger.
“T-then four hours…”
“Sigh…”
“Isn’t a sigh the limit? I can ask for at least four hours, can’t I?”
Suddenly, her demeanor became quite servile.
Lac exhaled deeply before replying.
“I’ll let you bask in it all day. Just say when.”
“All day long?”
Natida’s eyes widened.
Her lips parted slightly in shock.
“2, 24 hours…”
Just imagining it seemed to delight her, and she looked like she was about to drool at the thought. Observing her already drug-like appearance, Lac had a truly unfortunate expression.
3.
Fortunately, the bodies of the warriors that Lac had managed to protect until the very end were safely secured. When Lac regained the ability to move, the funeral for the fallen was held.
Among the warriors acknowledged by the Duke, they were exceptional.
Their honorable deaths were commemorated at a funeral to honor their sacrifices. During peak times when mourners gathered, she also arrived.
Thud.
With her arrival, all footsteps among the mourners came to a halt. All attention turned to her as she made her way toward the casket.
Rania van Trias.
There was no one who didn’t recognize her face.
Dressed in the attire symbolizing a hero, she attended the funeral. This signaled that she was here not as Lac’s acquaintance or as Rania herself but as a ‘Hero’ to mourn.
“……”
Silently, she offered flowers and lowered her head slightly before the casket. The entire sequence of motions was so smooth and natural that it didn’t seem like someone who had done it just once or twice.
After having repeated it many times, it had become second nature.
Nevertheless, familiarity did not imply lightness. She genuinely expressed sorrow for the warriors’ deaths, paying tribute to the value of their lives. With everyone watching, after laying the flowers, she turned.
“Thank you for coming.”
Lac stood there.
Rania’s expression turned bittersweet as she gestured.
It was a signal to talk after the funeral. As Rania brushed past Lac, she lightly patted his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture from a mentor.
*
“It’s been a while, Professor.”
“Wow, it feels like ages since I last heard someone call me that.”
When the funeral had wound down, Lac made his way to the meeting room where Rania was waiting. Rania glanced over him and nodded.
“Has it really been almost three years? You seem taller, and there’s more muscle too. You’ve grown quite a bit.”
“You haven’t changed at all, Professor.”
It wasn’t flattery; it was the truth.
Compared to three years ago, Rania had not changed one bit. Perhaps the only thing different was her aura. Rania chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m just still youthful.”
Youthful? Wasn’t she in her early twenties?
As that thought crossed his mind, Lac suddenly recalled that Ranal was about to turn twenty-eight just before her retirement. So now at the very least…
“Definitely looks like she’s in her thirties…”
“No.”
“Eh?”
“Not true.”
Rania cut Lac off sharp as a knife.
Her voice was chilling.
As if someone had hit a sensitive spot.
“I’m not in my thirties.”
“Uh…?”
“Lac, what do they call me in the world?”
“Hero, the strongest hero.”
“Not that, my name.”
“Rania van Trias?”
“Right.”
Not Ranal but Rania.
“I’m in my early twenties… well, mid-twenties. I’m definitely not in my thirties.”
But, isn’t that a bit much?
Just as Lac was about to refute this, an old instinct kicked in. His honed intuition, sharpened to superhuman levels, warned him.
Shut it.
If the professor says so, then it’s true.
Rebutting would mean certain death, right?
Not having encountered her in three years, he had nearly forgotten that rule. Lac lightly trembled and nodded.
“Yes, of course.”
Professor is in her mid-twenties.
Finally, Rania nodded in satisfaction.
She muttered that the documents for Ranal in the library stated she was thirty-one, but that information was wrong and insisted she’d remain in her twenties forever.
Yet, Lac decided to ignore her mumblings. There are things better left unheard in the world, after all.
‘…But why look at her own documents?’
There were too many questions, but he resolved to quietly let it slide. His intuition kept insisting that was the better choice.
