"Ugh... where is this place?"
"Rest assured. This isn't a hospital, but it's the Sword Sect's residence. They have all the essentials."
My lower body still responds—that's a mercy.
"Odd. That should've been a simple mission for you."
"Well, I finished the task quickly. Wrecking an office is nothing."
But the real issue was the monstrous intruder.
"Then why are you injured, and why is your sword broken?"
"I got taken down by a single Wakashu. Honestly, they spared my life."
"Wakashu? Is that true?"
"Yeah. That was Rogion—an Ursus operative, known for a damn powerful sword strike."
"Rogion... became Wakashu?"
"You know me, do you?"
I sensed hesitation—he recognized the name.
"If I'd known it was someone familiar, I'd have brought back a head. Sorry I lost!"
No need to worry.
"What's this—were you lovers or something?"
"Not at all. Her name is Rogion. She was once part of the Sword Sect. Remember that."
"Former Sword Sect? No wonder that strike—no, that parry—was so immense."
"She's not someone you easily outmatch with sheer skill. You're lucky to be alive."
"Seriously... Should I be ashamed I survived because of her mercy, or relieved?"
"Be relieved. Death is final. If you survive, there may come a time when you rise again and take flight. Even if you never fly, you can hold onto that hope."
"Is that how things are?"
"Isn't that what life is?"
"Please get up for a moment. I need to change your bandages."
"Ah, okay."
"This will sting a bit. Let me know if it becomes too painful."
It didn't sting. The wound had healed so cleanly, if I hadn't seen the seam, I wouldn't believe I'd been cut.
"Well then... Baekhyun?"
"Hmm? Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Are you truly all right?"
"Why do you ask so much?"
"Even if the cut was shallow, it was still a sword wound crossing your torso."
"I know—I was cut. Do you think I don't feel it?"
"Hear me out. I applied antiseptic and a healing salve. But medicine only aids recovery; it doesn't create such a flawless seam. If a drug could do that, we'd mass-produce it."
I realized before he even finished speaking: the wound was closed like a zipper. With only faint dried blood and a tiny scar line, I'd never have known.
"Huh?"
"Did you do this yourself?"
"No. I collapsed as soon as I arrived here."
"Have you taken anything unusual?"
"I did eat the meal Otis prepared this morning, though."
"We all ate it, and none of us experienced this. So it's not the food."
"Or have you been struck by any special Arts?"
"I took an ice axe to the side of my torso—Rogion's throw—but that only caused bleeding. Yet the cut is healed now."
One suspect came to mind: the Mountain Spirit. But I didn't mention it because Faust and the scholar would lose interest—and I didn't want to volunteer as an experiment.
And second, Moejang intervened. She didn't forbid me by word or by force; she just gave me a look that read: "Don't say it."
"Maybe... I'm just that extraordinary?"
"Extraordinary, you say..."
"Faust won't accept that. Get up and see for yourself."
He'll likely head to his study next. It's a relief I'm not drawing attention.
"I'll get up too. And when you do, thank Otis. She was the first to find you and get you treated."
She really is like a mother. I suppose I should say thanks.
"...Moejang, by the way, that building isn't far from here, right?"
"Right. It's a walk, but not terribly distant."
"I encountered Wakashu there. I even heard Rogion's name—she might be nearby."
"Likely so."
"...We're closer than I thought."
"Indeed. You've moved closer. That was never their original base."
So they've entrenched themselves on our territory.
"Also, the detachment to Dragon Gate is set for December 20 to 26. Take note."
"Got it. So it's really happening..."
"There are still about eight weeks before then. 'Really happening' is premature."
"You never say everything, do you. Tch..."
Great, and of all times, it's Christmas season. Crowds everywhere, couples on every corner. But this is my seventh Christmas on Terra—and the first I'll spend in a proper city.
"Well then, I'm off to sleep."
"You've been lying down for five hours. To get real rest, move a bit or do light calisthenics..."
I heard more advice but bolted instead—I'd fall asleep if I stayed.
"Otis... still up?"
"What's the matter, rookie?"
Good, she's still awake.
"Nothing... I just wanted to say thanks."
I scratched my head awkwardly; this kind of thing isn't for me.
"Rookie... why the hell did you break your sword?"
"Is that the problem?"
"It's a problem! Do you know how much that cost?"
"Ah! Fine! I was an idiot to try thanking this hysterical fox!"
"You've no respect for elders! That won't do—time for some discipline. Five hundred push-ups, and I'll let it go!"
"Five hundred? Are you kidding? I've been up for thirty minutes!"
"Scared? Then beg for leniency."
"Fine—bring it on!"
The punishment was... brutal.
Kraah... my arms... the capital of Nepal is Kathmandu. Heh.
"You still have energy for nonsense?"
What does she know—nonsense is all I have left.
"By the way, rookie, I heard your horizontal slash is pretty raw, is that true?"
"Horizontal slash? Uh, yeah. I've modified the Hidden Tiger in the Forest Stance."
"That's what Sinclair told me. But it seems to take time to reach full power."
"Well... that's true. Still, the power is solid."
Of course—it's a blow fueled by pure anger.
"High power is good, but for close-quarters, a small-scale horizontal slash is just as important. Here, hold the sword—don't break it, it's new."
New—good. It shines, it smells new.
"I'll teach you the Intercept Stance. Use the remaining time to practice. Draw your blade."
"Now? Teach me right now?"
"Of course. Learn while getting struck. Here it comes!"
"What the hell?!"
This group... what did I ever expect?