"All right, your injuries have essentially healed. There's nothing serious to worry about." After completing a thorough examination, the physician smiled at Altaïr. "It's normal to feel weak after being unconscious for so long.
Over the next few days, make sure to eat plenty of nutritious, easily digestible food. Don't jump straight back into intense training. Give your body some time to recover, then ease gradually into rehabilitation exercises."
"Thank you, doctor." Still bare-chested, Altaïr nodded and began putting his shirt back on.
"Are these... really all right?" Standing beside him, Isis reached out and poked at the pitch-black scars on Altaïr's body.
They looked as though someone had rubbed coal dust into the wounds.
"Initially, we were quite concerned too." The physician pushed up his glasses and patiently explained, "We were worried that the black blood might contain bacteria or toxins that could harm the patient.
But after prolonged observation and repeated tests, we've all but ruled out that possibility. The dark coloration should have no effect on his physical health.
Think of it this way. You fell and scraped your skin on a path covered in coal cinders. A little coal dust entered the wound, then became trapped in the tissue as your skin healed, making the scar appear dark.
The body will gradually metabolize those substances, so the scars should return to their normal color over the next few years."
The physician paused, his expression growing more serious. "Of course, this is only our assessment based on what we currently know.
If either of you notices anything unusual or experiences any discomfort, seek medical attention immediately."
"I understand. Thank you very much." Altaïr finished buttoning his shirt and nodded gratefully to the physician.
Isis quickly chimed in, "Thank you, doctor!"
The elderly physician removed his glasses and sighed softly. "Why thank me? We're the ones who should thank you. Nothing could be better than seeing you both recover."
The two of them left the medical clinic. Altaïr was somewhat surprised to find Haifa waiting outside.
Seeing them emerge, Haifa grinned broadly and boomed, "See? I told you it was nothing. What were you so worried about? Just think of it as a tattoo.
Look at my mom. She's practically tattooed her entire body blue-black, and she's perfectly fine. What are you so worried about?"
As she spoke, she lifted the hem of Altaïr's shirt to take a look, then slapped him on the back. "It's just a little ugly, that's all. Looks like you took a tumble in a coal heap or something. Hahahaha!"
Altaïr straightened his clothes with a resigned look. As Teacher Karin's partner, Haifa was effectively one of his seniors, so there was little he could do about her antics.
"Right, there's something else I need to tell you."
Once she had finished teasing him, Haifa's expression grew more serious. "Mom and the others sent a letter back by peregrine falcon last night. They've found the Grimclaw Tigrex's trail."
"They also said the Grimclaw Tigrex was badly wounded. Whatever could do that to a Grimclaw Tigrex has to be an incredibly powerful Monster, most likely an Elder Dragon. They warned us to be careful and said they were hurrying back to Loc Lac as fast as they could."
"..."
For a moment, Altaïr was at a loss for words.
Seeing his expression, Haifa shrugged. "I had the same look on my face when I heard the news from the Guild Master.
My mom, Senior Omar, and the others spent half a month eating sand in the desert farther north before they finally stumbled upon the Grimclaw Tigrex that Guanzorumu had gravely wounded. They don't know a thing about what's been happening here in Loc Lac. When they get back, I'm definitely going to make fun of them for it."
Altaïr was sorely tempted to remind her that doing so would inevitably earn her a brutal beating from Madam Marydan, but he ultimately held his tongue.
Haifa continued, "Anyway, I'm not telling you this just to make fun of them. According to their letter, the Grimclaw Tigrex is headed toward the Ancestral Steppe.
From there, it can take only two routes: continue north through the Old Jungle, or turn east and cross the land bridge to the eastern continent.
The Guild Master has already contacted the Guilds in Metapetatto and Geo Wandreo and asked them to conduct Airship patrols. If they locate it, the Guild should be able to track its migration route from then on."
Haifa paused and looked Altaïr straight in the eye. "You understand what I'm getting at, right?"
"Yeah." Altaïr's expression remained calm as he gave a small nod.
"Heh. Someone who has faced an Elder Dragon really does know how to keep his cool, huh?" Haifa bared her teeth. "But that's exactly why I'm slipping you this information.
At your current rate of growth, in another five or six years, you might actually be ready to stand before that thing and trade blows with it."
With that, Haifa slapped Altaïr's shoulder twice with a force hardly appropriate for treating a wounded patient. "All right, I just came to tell you that. I'm out!"
Haifa turned on her heel, but after barely two steps, she spun around and came back. "Ah, right. Uh, that thing... could I get my house key back? It's a real hassle having to knock every time I come home, and my dad's hearing isn't great."
Altaïr's face was expressionless. "I already returned the key to Mr. Lamarck. You can ask him directly."
"You little..." Haifa ground her teeth. "That means I'll have to listen to him nagging again, 'You're so careless, you're always losing things,' 'Maybe I should just hang it around your neck,' blah blah blah. I'd rather climb in through the window."
Haifa left, muttering curses under her breath. Only Altaïr and Isis remained at the entrance to the medical clinic.
"Mmm~"
Basking in the dazzling sunlight of the Great Desert, Isis stretched lazily with a satisfied sigh. "Finally, no more being stuck in the medical clinic all day! So... what do we do next? In this condition, continuing the Hunt is probably out of the question. It looks like we'll need some time to recover and rehabilitate.
Should we stay in Loc Lac for now and decide what to do once we've recovered?"
"Either is fine." A smile touched Altaïr's face as well. "Rest and rehabilitation are pretty much the same wherever we go."
"Don't go wandering off; let's just stay in Loc Lac." Isis grinned. "New Year's is just over two weeks away. You know more people here, so at least it'll be lively!"
Altaïr paused, startled. "It's... almost New Year's already?"
—--
In his own small courtyard, Altaïr sat cross-legged and still as a statue, his eyes gently closed in meditation and the Tyrant Blade [Solar Eclipse] resting across his knees.
Half a month had passed since he left the medical clinic.
After this period of quiet recuperation, his injuries had largely healed.
His physical condition was also steadily improving under a structured rehabilitation regimen. Before long, he would return to peak condition, perhaps even exceed his former limits.
The human body was both wondrous and resilient. When pushed to its absolute limits without breaking, it could emerge from recovery stronger than before.
Yet Altaïr's attention during this time had not been focused on his physical recovery.
Two other matters had occupied his thoughts.
The first concerned the final moments of the battle against Guanzorumu. After repeatedly building and compressing the energy in his Spirit Gauge, he had unleashed a Spirit Helm Breaker of unprecedented power. Propelled by that compressed energy, he had then unintentionally executed a devastating new sword technique.
He had tried to reproduce that technique, but without success. Given his current physical condition, he intended to wait until he had fully recovered before trying again.
The second was the secret scroll left by Isis's mother.
It contained neither a mighty sword technique nor a training manual for Hunter Arts, but something more obscure, more... conceptual.
In essence, it offered a comprehensive exploration of the relationship between a warrior's spirit, will, emotions, the Spirit Gauge, and momentum, together with ways to understand and apply them.
Though the scroll was brief, a single reading left him dizzy and mentally exhausted. Even Isis, once a Long Sword user herself, had given up and slipped away before making it through two lines.
He sensed that if he could grasp even part of its contents, his understanding of swordsmanship would reach an entirely new level.
Yet many of its concepts were currently beyond his ability not only to apply, but even to perceive. He had no idea where to begin.
Fortunately, he remembered Master Amos's advice that meditation could help a person explore their inner self. That was the main reason he had been meditating so often lately.
Unfortunately, he had little to show for it so far. "Altaïr! Stop training! The New Year's banquet is about to start!" A cheerful voice jolted him out of meditation.
Isis was leaning over the courtyard wall, grinning at him.
With his meditation interrupted, Altaïr felt a little helpless. But both developing the move he had executed unintentionally into a proper sword technique and absorbing the lessons in Isis's mother's secret scroll would take a great deal of time.
There was no need to rush.
He braced his hands on his knees and rose, slung the Long Sword across his back, glanced at the darkening sky, and walked out through the gate.
With New Year's approaching, the streets of Loc Lac brimmed with festive cheer.
(Translated by yourtl.app)