Chapter 45:
Theb he looked up at the sky with dead eyes. "If I die, tell my bed I loved it."
"Stop monologuing," Seraphina said dryly.
Kael shot her a crooked smirk. "Don't you mean mourning?"
"No. I meant what I said." There was a pause—brief, but cold as the morning breeze.
"And another thing," she added, folding her arms. Her voice had hardened, edged with something unreadable.
Kael's expression shifted. His eyes narrowed slightly, already sensing the change in her tone. "What thing?" he asked, cautious now.
She didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she stared off into the distance, as if gathering words from the wind. "You remember that stupid question you asked me a few minutes ago?" she said. "The one about whether I undress every man in the morning?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah. I remember."
"The answer is no." Her voice was quiet now, steady, but laced with something heavier beneath. "I don't. I don't even train newcomers—Arwyn handles them. She told me not to interfere. Said it's not my duty if she's present."
Her voice faltered at the end—just barely—but it vanished almost as soon as it surfaced.
Kael watched her for a moment. Thought bitterly, "Is she pretending not to know? Or does she truly not realize they don't want her training them?" Just like how he didn't want to be trained by her. Not really.
Still, he asked, "So what—you'd undress them if you did train them?"
She turned sharply, eyes flashing. "No, I wouldn't! I could never…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You're my husband, you fool. That's why I did it with you."
Kael squinted. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said too fast, too defensively.
"Again with the dodging?" he said, raising a brow, playing up his drama. "Come on, honey. Answer me properly. Will you or won't you?"
She smirked—but there was no real amusement behind it. "Who knows."
He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" he muttered, eyeing her. "What's with her lately? Her smiles are more frequent… but there's always something behind them. Something unsettled…"
"Enough," she snapped. "Get on the ground. Five hundred push-ups. Now. I'll be watching."
Kael groaned. "You're gonna watch me like a hawk?"
"Yes—because the moment I blink, you'll start slacking off like a worm."
He clutched his chest, as if struck by a mortal wound. "You don't trust your weak, loving husband even a little?"
"No," she replied flatly, arms crossed. No hesitation.
He sighed, long and dramatic. "So heartless…"
He dropped to the ground without hesitation. Placing his palms firmly on the grass, he stretched one leg back, then the other, aligning his body into a straight, horizontal line. His core tightened, back straight, and elbows slightly bent as he positioned himself in perfect form. Then, with controlled movement, he lowered his body toward the ground, arms bending at the elbows. His chest hovered just above the ground before he pushed himself back up. One repetition. And then another—each motion smooth, steady, and focused.
1... 2... 3...
The grass was still damp with morning dew, soaking into his palms. He lowered his chest close to the earth, elbows tight, then pushed up slowly.
12... 13...
He glanced sideways. She stood with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, watching him like a hawk.
25... 26...
He groaned louder than necessary. "Are you seriously not going to look away even once?"
"Do it properly." She didn't blink.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Hmph. Like I care about your whining."
55... 56...
His breath was getting heavier now. The morning sun climbed higher, casting golden rays across the training ground.
70... 71... 72...
Sweat beaded down his temple, dripping to the grass.
100...
He collapsed flat on the ground, arms shaking. "Dead. I'm dead. This is it. Bury me under this damn tree."
She glanced at him, expression unreadable.
"You're not even halfway. Get up."
"Have you no soul?!"
She kicked his shoulder lightly with the side of her boot. "Get. Up."
"298... 299... 400!" he blurted out suddenly.
Her eyes twitched. "It's 300, you bastard!"
She struck his neck with the hilt of her sword—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to sting.
"Ow! Alright, alright! Mercy!"
Time dragged on. His arms felt like lead. His shirt clung to his skin, soaked in sweat. Grass clippings stuck to his arms, his back, even his face.
"498... 499..."
His whole body trembled.
"500!"
Kael rolled over with a groan, then flopped onto his back, limbs sprawled out as if he'd just survived a battlefield.
"Finally," he gasped. "Done. I feel like I've been reborn... and then immediately murdered again."
He threw one arm over his eyes, shielding them from the sun, chest rising and falling with every labored breath.
A shadow loomed beside him.
"You still have to run the perimeter," Seraphina said, her voice crisp and unyielding. Like a slap wrapped in silk.
Kael sat up abruptly, appalled. "No. I can't. I definitely can't. Please, have mercy on me, oh beautiful tyrant wife of mine. Please."
She didn't even blink. "Stop being lazy. It's not enough. Honestly… maybe I should've made it a thousand."
His eyes widened. "Are you crazy?!"
Seraphina tilted her head, calm and composed. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion elegant—but her eyes remained cold. Unreadable.
Kael stared at her for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh.
"Pretending like you don't understand anything… just like always."
He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling as his legs threatened to give out beneath him. They shook with every step, like jelly barely holding form.
Still, he began to jog. Each breath came with a wheeze, but he didn't stop.
"One day…" he called over his shoulder, voice thin but theatrical, "one day you'll miss me—when I've died from training."
Behind him, Seraphina watched. Her face didn't change much—but then, the faintest smirk touched the corner of her lips.
Just a little.
---
—A Moments Later—
After finishing the running whole distrit— which somehow felt more like surviving a death trial — Kael dragged his exhausted body toward the mansion, sweat dripping like he'd just returned from war. The sun peeked over the horizon, golden rays glinting off the polished walls. He stood before the door, hands on his hips, chest heaving.
He exhaled with theatrical flair. "I'm dead… So very dead. But at least she doesn't know what I did." A sly grin formed on his lips. "Yet."
With a dramatic flourish, he pushed open the front door. Sunlight flickered through the window, casting long shadows over the marble floor. The quiet hum of magic filled the air — familiar, domestic, and faintly threatening.
In the kitchen stood Seraphina, statuesque and still. She was placing a silver teapot on the glowing magic stove, her icy presence stark against the morning warmth. She moved with the grace of someone who could kill a man with a single look. And had probably done so.
Kael threw his arms out and proclaimed, "Oh, what's this I see? My beautiful, terrifying wife is making breakfast just for me?" His voice echoed like that of a theater actor on stage.
Seraphina didn't even blink. "It's not for you," she said flatly. "I'm making it for myself. You can have the leftovers."
"Leftovers again?" Kael changed his expression then s sigh. "I don't mind! Truly! As long as it's your handmade, soul-warming breakfast, even your scraps are gourmet treasure after my hellish training."
He collapsed dramatically onto the nearby sofa, sighing as if carrying the weight of a thousand squats.
Seraphina turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. "I make breakfast every day."
Kael raised a finger. "Ah! But you see, it's not just about making it. Today, I get to eat it warm. Fresh from the hands of my beloved tormentor."
She narrowed her eyes. "Well, then finish your melodrama and go take a bath. You smell like regret and sweat."
"Do I really have to?" he whined, tilting his head back. "You broke my precious sleep, made me train like a beast… and now you want me to bathe too? Is this a war crime?"
Without missing a beat, Seraphina moved.
Her hand drifted toward the counter, calm and deliberate. Near the edge, beside the softly humming magic stove, sat a metal spoon.
She picked it up with precise, almost effortless grace—like it was just an extension of her will.
Then, with a flick of her wrist, smooth as water, she sent it flying.
The spoon cut through the air in a perfect arc.
Clink!
It struck Kael squarely on the forehead.
He blinked, stunned, as the spoon bounced off and clattered to the floor.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
"Bath. Now. Or I'll make you scrub the training ground with a toothbrush."
Kael sat up, rubbing his head with a grin. "Alright, alright! But… how about you come with me? You could help me wash my back, no? For morale."
She stared at him with a look so cold, he swore the temperature in the room dropped.
Kael pouted. "Hey! I offered to help you last night, didn't I? And you refused! That's not on me."
The stove made a soft click as it powered down. Breakfast was nearly done, but the room tensed like the calm before a storm.
"You've already seen almost everything," Kael continued boldly. "And even touched. So why are you acting all frosty, my frosty sweetheart?"
Seraphina closed her eyes and took a long breath. "Say one more word and I'll quadruple your training. No food. No mercy."
"Okay, okay! You win!" Kael bolted up, hands raised in dramatic surrender, and jogged off toward the stairs tucked behind the sofa he'd been sprawled on.
As he reached the middle step, his pace slowed. He turned his head slightly to the left, glancing back over his shoulder—eyes drifting downward to where Seraphina still stood.
His voice echoed behind him, full of mock bravado. "But you'll miss me while I'm gone! Don't pretend otherwise!"
As his footsteps faded down the room, Seraphina turned back to the kitchen. The kettle hissed gently. She poured the tea with precision, placing everything on a small tray. But her fingers lingered a moment too long.
"Tch… He's gotten a lot bolder these past two days," she muttered under her breath. "He's really starting to grow some nerve—talking about washing backs, of all things…"
Her hands tightened slightly around the teacup.
"Fine. If you want to play this game, Kael, then let's play. I've been holding back — letting you call me 'honey,' ignoring your idiotic flirting… all to keep you focused on training."
She look toward the staircase where he disappeared.
"But if I let this go on, you'll crawl under my skin… and I won't even notice until it's too late."
She turned away sharply, cheeks tinged ever so faintly with pink.
---
After his bath, Kael returned to the table by the sofa. The air was rich with the comforting aroma of warm food—lightly toasted bread, scrambled eggs laced with herbs, a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, and a freshly poured cup of tea. She was already there, seated with her back to him, quiet and composed, as though she had been waiting for him all along.
He glanced her way but said nothing. His eyes caught on her silver hair, cascading down over the back of the chair like moonlight spun into silk.
"What? She hasn't left yet?" He blinked, a little surprised. "I thought she'd be gone before I finished bathing."
His gaze shifted to the table. He stepped forward, almost hesitant. "She hasn't eaten yet."
When he reached her, he glanced at her face but quickly looked away. She didn't acknowledge him, simply sat there with that same noble stillness. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down with a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Ahh… finally. This feels like heaven," he said dramatically, letting his shoulders sag as he eyed the food. "I can finally taste the reward of my suffering."
The meal wasn't perfect—he could see that. But it was hers. And that made all the difference.
She didn't respond. Just picked up her spoon with slow, measured grace, and took a bite.
Kael followed suit. As the warmth of the food touched his tongue, something in his expression softened. "This is good. Real good," he thought.
Then, with an overly loud sigh, he leaned back, tossing a smirk her way. "Mmm... So delicious, honey."
Seraphina paused. Her eyes twitched—just barely.
She clearly thought of snapping at him. He could tell. But instead, she stayed quiet.
Kael watched her, grinning like a child who'd gotten away with something. "I'll let you enjoy more," Seraphina thought, clearly annoyed. "Though it's a pain in the ass."
"Honey," he repeated, pushing his luck.
"What now?" she muttered, not looking up.
"Will I get this every day? Your warm, hand-made food?"
She hesitated, then replied flatly, "Yes. If you train properly, I'll make everything warm for you."
Kael blinked, caught off guard. "That's good to hear, honey. I won't slack off starting tomorrow." But in his mind: "Huh? That's not the reaction I expected… Is she softening up? Wait—no, it's not bad though. But her reactions… I want more. I won't let you soften up that easily.
"You slacked off from running," Seraphina said with a sigh. "Tell me—what am I supposed to do with you? I don't have time to monitor your every move, you lazy bastard." She stood up from the chair, then slowly sat back down, her tone sharp but wearied.
"Sorry," Kael said, lowering his gaze. "It won't happen again."
She let out another sigh. "Fine. I'll forgive you today. But if you do it again tomorrow, I swear to the gods—you won't even be able to count the ribs or bones I break." Her blue eyes flared with intensity.
"Okay, okay—I get it. I won't do it again," he said quickly.
They finished the rest of the meal in silence.
When they were done, Seraphina rose and began gathering the plates. But Kael stopped her.
"Don't worry about them, I'll wash for you," he said. "You should go now."
She didn't reply. Just placed the plates gently back on the table, turned, and walked toward the stairs.
Kael lingered, watching her go. Then he stood and began to wash the dishes.
As he cleaned, he muttered to himself, "I should sleep more… but my body still hurts. That woman—I swear I'm going to annoy her more for this."
His fingers paused over the soapy water.
"Still don't understand why she wants me to become stronger. Thinking about it just confuses me. That woman—I can't understand her, not even a little. Sometimes she does things that catch me off guard…"
He shook his head, sighing again. "Just like when she said she doesn't undress every man in the morning. Why ignore me first and then reply later? She's changing."
Once he finished cleaning, he stretched his arms overhead. A moment later, Seraphina descended the stairs, now wearing her armor. Her presence was sharp, composed, like a blade unsheathed.
Kael glanced at her, then raised his voice just enough, still playful. "Have a good day, honey."
She didn't reply. Just walked out the door.
After she left, Kael turned toward their bedroom. "Finally. More sleep."
But as he reached for the door, he paused. His side still felt damp—She had done that.
Grimacing, he turned away and headed to the next room instead. Even though they shared a bedroom, they each had their own personal rooms. That, too, had been Seraphina's decision.
Kael had never asked her why.
---
—Eleventh Floor—
The atmosphere grew heavier with each step. The walls, darker than any they'd seen before, seemed to pulse faintly with an eerie, sickly glow. A thin mist crawled across the ground, coiling around boots and making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Silence pressed down on the knights—thick, unnatural—broken only by the synchronized tread of armored feet echoing down the corridor.
At the front of the formation strode Arwyn, her silver armor catching the dim light with a subdued gleam. Unlike the standard issue worn by others, her armor bore green tracings along the edges of her chestplate, knee guards, and gauntlets. An emblem of the kingdom was proudly etched into her breastplate. Her shoulder guards, marked with a distinct color and insignia, set her apart as a Lieutenant. One hand rested near the hilt of her blade, every sense sharp and alert.
Just behind her walked Kaelen, a Senior Knight who usually served under her command, much like Lyra did under Captain Seraphina. His eyes missed nothing, instincts honed like a drawn blade. The rest of the squad followed in a disciplined, tight formation. This wasn't a routine sweep. They all knew that.
"This floor gives me the creeps," Kaelen muttered under his breath, scanning the walls.
"Lieutenant," he said aloud, voice low but steady. "How much farther?"
"According to the parchment Captain Seraphina gave me, we should be nearing the end," Arwyn replied, eyes fixed ahead. "She mentioned a throne room."
"A throne room?" Kaelen echoed with a frown. "But—"
"I know what you're thinking," Arwyn cut in, sparing him a glance. "But we both know— Captain Seraphina doesn't lie."
He gave a short nod. "Yes, understood, Lieutenant… but did she say anything about the monster? Why are we retrieving it's corpse? What could it possibly be good for? And… aren't monsters supposed to petrify after death in the dungeon?"
"She said it's not like the others," Arwyn answered, turning a corner with steady steps. "Not from this dungeon. Maybe not even from this world. Classified as unknown. If that's true, it might explain why it didn't turn to stone. And she was very clear—no civilians are to see it."
Kaelen muttered something under his breath, but the thought was cut short as the corridor opened up.
Before them stretched a vast chamber. The air shifted—colder, quieter. The glow from the dungeon lights was dim and uneven, but even in the half-light, the shape was clear: a massive throne of blackened stone, looming at the center like a sentinel in the dark.
"Well, would you look at that," Arwyn whispered, brow raised slightly. "There actually is a throne room."
"So you didn't believe her either," Kaelen said with a crooked smile.
"Shut it," Arwyn replied, though her voice lacked any true bite.
Their boots clinked softly as they stepped inside.
Then they stopped.
Left of the throne, sprawled like a discarded marionette, lay the corpse of Zandagar—his massive form cleaved through the chest. Black blood soaked the stone beneath him, already dried to a viscous, inky sheen. His eyes stared wide, frozen in a final moment of disbelief.
"Gods," Kaelen breathed. "What in all the hells is it?"
Arwyn moved cautiously forward, frowning. "I don't know. But if it were still alive, I'd feel it."
"It doesn't look like any monster I've seen," Kaelen murmured, circling the grotesque corpse.
"Nor have I," Arwyn said. "It's larger than we were told. And look—those are Seraphina's blade marks. She's the only one who could slice through something like this."
Kaelen exhaled sharply. "And we're supposed to drag this thing back without anyone noticing?"
Arwyn crossed her arms. The faint sound of metal shifting accompanied the movement. "That's the mission. Any bright ideas?"
"None yet," he muttered. "Give me a minute."
Behind them, the rest of the knights shifted uneasily. One of the younger recruits stepped forward, hesitating. "Lieutenant… do we even have the equipment for this?"
"No," Arwyn said simply. "But we're not leaving it. If the Captain wants it retrieved, there's a reason."
Kaelen tapped his chin, thinking quickly. "We'll need a covered transport. But it won't fit through the dungeon entrance."
Arwyn nodded. "We just need to get the corpse to the floor's entrance. After that, I arranged for a larger transport—it's waiting outside the dungeon. We might be able to hoist it up from there with minimal attention."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "Drag it across one floor, huh? And who's doing the dragging?"
"You all are," Arwyn replied without missing a beat.
He groaned. "Fine. But we'll need to wrap it. That skin looks unstable—it's been almost twenty-four hours. Could start decaying soon."
"I'll get the knights on it. We'll use enchanted cloth. That'll slow decomposition until extraction."
The knights moved swiftly, laying down tarps and unpacking bindings. The chamber filled with quiet rustling and low murmurs as preparations began.
Kaelen stood beside the corpse, staring down at it for a long moment.
"This thing…" he said quietly. "It shouldn't exist."
"I know," Arwyn replied, voice low. "But it does."
And in the shadow of the throne, beneath flickering dungeon light, the knights began their grim task—wrapping an alien corpse in silence, and dragging it back through the mist, inch by inch.
---
—Knight Order's Office—
The morning sun filtered weakly through the stained-glass windows of the Knight Order's Office, casting colored shards of light across the polished marble floor. Seraphina sat behind her desk, her posture straight, precise. Her silver armor gleamed even in the subdued light, a symbol of discipline and nobility.
Across from her stood Lyra, ever dutiful, clutching two parchments. She stepped forward, placing one before her.
"Captain," Lyra began, bowing slightly, "the Emergency Retrieval Unit you ordered has already departed. They left approximately an hour ago to recover the corpse. We expect their return within the next two."
Seraphina didn't look up as she signed a document, her quill gliding smoothly across the parchment. "Good. Ensure the path remains secure. I want no further complications."
"Understood." Lyra nodded and then extended the second parchment. "The reply from the Guildmaster arrived shortly after."
Seraphina finally lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable. She broke the wax seal with a flick of her gloved fingers and unfolded the letter. Her eyes scanned the contents with cool precision.
---
To Lady Seraphina Valenhart.
Captain of the Velhart Knight Order,
First and foremost, allow me to express my deepest gratitude. The swift actions of your Order saved the lives of several adventurers under my guild's protection. For that, I offer not just my thanks, but my respect.
In regard to your inquiry concerning the black-haired, crimson-eyed man—my staff and I conducted a thorough investigation. Every guild receptionist was questioned, and we cross-checked the details of every registered adventurer currently residing in our records. None match the description provided.
It is my conclusion, regretfully, that the individual in question is not affiliated with our guild. Whether he is an unregistered rogue or simply a traveler remains uncertain.
As for the creature mentioned in your previous message—its characteristics are unlike anything recorded within our bestiaries. I consulted both our archivists and the oldest registries available to me. The consensus is consistent with your suspicion: it is not native to our world. Furthermore, the fact that it bled negates the possibility of it being an artifact or illusion. I will continue to search less conventional records and consult the Arcanum, should they permit it. If any new information arises, I shall notify you without delay.
May the Order stand ever strong.
—Guildmaster Thorne Renshade
---
Seraphina closed the letter, her gloved fingers tapping it lightly against the desk. She exhaled slowly through her nose, a calculated breath rather than one of emotion.
"As I suspected. No trace of him in the guild. Not an adventurer. Not a registered citizen," she murmured, almost to herself. Her gaze sharpened. "A man with black hair and crimson eyes. An anomaly—and yet, he saved lives. Intriguing."
She leaned back slightly, thinking aloud. "Cross-checking the civilian registry would take weeks... perhaps longer. No guarantee of success either. A public notice may be the most efficient route."
"Lyra," she called, voice firm and precise.
"Yes, ma'am?" she replied, attentive.
"Draft a notice for distribution across the city. State that any sightings—or knowledge—of a man with black hair and crimson eyes should be reported to the Knight Order Office immediately."
"As you command." Lyra paused, hesitant. "...If I may ask, Captain—is this the same man you mentioned yesterday? The one who perished saving the adventuring party?"
Seraphina's gaze remained steady. "It is. That's the only testimony we have, spoken by a party member. His name, his origin—everything else remains unknown. And yet... he entered a dungeon without permission, alone and gave his life for strangers."
She picked up her quill again, her voice cool but not devoid of weight. "I don't know what drove him into that place. But good intention or not... in the end, he chose to save lives. That alone earns him a measure of respect."
Lyra bowed deeply. "Understood, Captain. I'll have the notices prepared and distributed before dusk."
"See that you do," Seraphina said, already returning to her paperwork.
---
—Kael's Mansion—
Kael turned the key and slowly locked the door behind him. The soft click echoed more than usual in the quiet morning air. He stood there for a moment, staring at the ground, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight.
"I can't sleep anymore," he muttered under his breath. A sigh slipped out. "I've got to go to the guild... even if my whole body still hurts." He ran a hand over his arm, wincing slightly. "She's going to kill me one day if the training keeps up like this." He paused, lips twitching in something between resignation and fatigue. "But... it's not like I can stop her. So why bother thinking about it?"
He pushed open the creaking front gate and stepped onto the dirt path that led toward the Velhart town. His pace was unhurried, almost mechanical. Each step felt heavier than the last. His eyes remained on the ground, not really seeing—just following the familiar route.
After some time, just as he was nearing Velhart Town—
it happened again.
A sudden wave of dizziness hit him. The world tilted.
Kael's knees buckled slightly, and he nearly collapsed—but forced himself upright, teeth gritted. His vision blurred, colors bleeding into each other. The spinning sensation made his stomach churn. This time, the pain was sharper, deeper—something unnatural pressing against his mind.
His breath hitched.
"Fuck... not again," he thought, heart pounding. His hand instinctively went to his temple, fingertips glowing faintly with magic. "Instant Heal."
Warmth pulsed from his palm—but it wasn't enough.
The pain didn't ease. It grew worse.
Kael's eyes lost their light, the familiar gray dimming into something dull and glassy.
"What the hell is going on...?" he whispered, the words shaky. "Why isn't my healing magic working? Why does it feel like—like something's trying to get in?"
A cold sweat broke across his back. The pressure in his skull was unbearable now, as if some invisible force was clawing into his mind.
"Did I walk into some kind of ritual? A curse...?"
He dropped to his knees, body trembling.
"Instant Heal," he said again, louder this time, pressing both hands to his head. The glow flickered but had no effect.
"I can't let it in. Whatever this is... I have to fight it. I have to stay in control."
His breathing was ragged now. His thoughts were a blur, jumbled and frantic. "Calm down. Focus. Don't let this thing take over... You've been through worse, Kael. Just—"
His vision was still swimming. The pain hadn't faded.
"Ahh—this pain...!"
Then a voice, gentle and worried, broke through the haze.
"Kael? Are you alright?" a soft, concerned voice called from behind.
Kael turned his head slowly, vision still swimming. Through the haze, he could just make out a figure—long black hair catching the morning light. Though his sight blurred, that hair... that presence... it was familiar.
"Elara..." he whispered.
She took a step closer, frowning. "You don't look alright."
"I think... I am..." Kael tried to stand but faltered again as another wave of pain surged through his head, making him clench his teeth.
"You're clearly not," she said firmly. "Hold still. Let me try something."
Just behind her, a smaller voice piped up. "Sis? He looks like he's got a really bad headache... maybe even worse."
Kael blinked, only now noticing the young boy behind her.
Elara stepped forward and reached out her hand. "Divine Heal," she whispered, and a soft light enveloped her palm. She pressed it gently against Kael's forehead.
Nothing.
Her expression tightened. She tried again. Still no effect.
"This is bad," she muttered. Her gaze flicked around, spotting a small wooden shop across the street. "We need to get you off the road."
Kael felt her arm slide beneath his as she tried to help him up. The boy rushed to his other side, doing his best to support Kael's weight. Though light, Kael's body felt heavy and limp.
Together, they helped him across the road and into the shade of the tiny shop. It was quiet, the wooden walls worn but welcoming. The shopkeeper didn't say a word—just nodded as they settled Kael into a wooden bench near the entrance.
"Here," the boy said, holding out a small cup. "Water."
Kael took it with a trembling hand, murmured a quiet, "Thanks," and drank deeply. The cool water soothed his dry throat... and then, as suddenly as the pain had come, it vanished. The pressure in his head lifted like a heavy curtain drawn open.
He exhaled a long breath. "It's gone... just like that..."
His eyes slowly refocused, and he looked up. Elara stood before him, no longer in her healer's robes but a simple, casual outfit—a cream tunic and soft blue skirt. Her long black hair framed her face, and her dark eyes were filled with worry.
Beside her stood the boy, no older than ten, also with black hair and sharp, curious eyes that mirrored hers.
"Thanks, Elara," Kael said quietly.
She waved it off with a small smile. "No need for thanks. Friends don't thank each other for helping. That's just... what we do."
"Friends, huh?" Kael echoed, his tone unreadable. "Yeah... I suppose you're right."
She nodded, then looked down at the boy beside her. "Oh—right. I haven't introduced him yet." She placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave him a gentle push forward. "Go on."
The boy gave a shy grin. "Hi! I'm Elric. I'm Elara's little brother."
Kael gave a faint smile. "Elric, huh? Nice to meet you. I'm Kael... a friend of your sister's. You look a lot like her."
"Do I?" Elric grinned proudly. "That's what everyone says!"
Elara chuckled and gently ruffled his hair. Then she turned her attention back to Kael. "So... do you think it's a fever or something? I tried healing, but... it didn't work. That worries me."
Kael shook his head. "I don't think it's a fever. I feel fine now... but the pain earlier—it wasn't normal."
"Then you should see a Cleric. Let them check you properly," she said, arms crossed. "It could be something deeper, something magic can't just fix."
Kael hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Alright. I'll look into it."
"No—you have to, Kael," she insisted. "Don't brush it off like you always do. You're not invincible."
He looked away for a moment. "I know... I'll go."
"Good."
There was a short pause, then Elara asked, "Were you heading to the guild?"
Kael nodded. "Yeah. No missions today, just... passing time. It's boring at home."
"Well, if you're free, you could come with us," she offered, smiling. "We were just heading out to the markets. Elric's been begging me all morning."
Kael glanced at Elric, then back at Elara. "Thanks, but I'll pass. I've got... things to think about."
She rolled her eyes. "Typical Kael." Then she softened. "Alright. But don't forget—go see that Cleric."
He stood slowly, legs steadier now, and adjusted his shirt. "Yeah, yeah..."
In this world, clerics are not just religious figures—they are the lifeblood of everyday healing. Known for their vast knowledge of herbs, ailments, and natural remedies, clerics collect rare leaves, roots, and medicinal plants to craft potent cures. While healing magic exists, it's uncommon and usually reserved for adventurers. Even then, magic doesn't always work. That's why, for most ordinary people, clerics are the first—and often only—line of defense against sickness. Their deep understanding of diseases and traditional medicine has earned them respect across villages and towns alike.
As Kael stepped back onto the road, his thoughts returned like a whisper in his mind.
"What just happened to me? Why did even healing magic fail? Is something... trying to get inside my head? If my suspicion is right... I have to be ready. I can't let it take control. No matter what."
He glanced back once. Elara and Elric were walking away, chatting softly—just a normal pair of siblings in a seemingly normal world. And then he smiled. Not the dramatic smile he always reserved for Seraphina, but something rarer—a quiet, genuine smile from deep within his heart.
But Kael knew... his world was anything but normal. And whatever was coming—it was getting closer.
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(Chapter Ended)