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Allen bathed quite late, because before bed, he was still a little uneasy, using Sense Flow to continuously monitor the entire ship's situation.
After scanning for the first half of the night, he had basically ruled out the faint possibility of any remaining assassins lurking about.
And, most importantly, the ship's guards were much more professional than he had imagined. Their night patrols maintained a very safe distance, meaning that even if something happened, his speed would allow him to reach any guest room in time before an incident occurred.
However, for safety, he still had Rudy use Earth Magic to seal off the staircase entrance on the lower deck before going to sleep.
Only after this did he stop his 'Sense Flow,' which had been operating at full power for a day and a night straight. He then happily took a hot bath, soothing his almost burnt-out brain.
'Sense Flow' was extremely taxing on the mind.
Though he didn't show it, Allen's mind already felt hazy.
It was like the feeling of working an 18-hour shift before being summoned by the Great Teleportation.
Now, at this moment.
—Midnight, 0:30 AM.
Creak.
Steaming mist escaped from the door crack, and an arm stained with dried blood reached out.
Pushing the door open, Allen lazily stepped out of his cabin's bathroom.
The overly enthusiastic maids had already been dismissed; the cabin was empty.
Allen picked up the bathrobe they had left outside the bathroom door and put it on. Barefoot, he padded across the deck, step by step, to the window.
In the moonlight and the candlelight on the small table by the window.
He raised his arm.
The dried blood on the outside of his arm had softened from the water. Allen reached out and peeled it away. The skin underneath, thanks to his rapid metabolism, had already turned into a reddish scar.
—This was a wound intentionally left from Vita's sword aura during the battle today.
The wind blew the candlelight, making a hissing sound.
Allen stared at the new scar on his arm, his thoughts forming in his mind.
'Healing Magic Sigil, activate...'
'Stop.' A green glow flashed. In a single breath, the scar on Allen's hand had vanished.
He rubbed the smooth skin with his fingertip, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
In that instant he was wounded under the bridge today, his rapidly working brain had still been momentarily distracted.
Because he had been thinking about Orsted and Human God's apostles very frequently recently, he suddenly recalled Rudy's and Orsted's battle scene from the original story when he got hurt.
After the battle, Rudy profited greatly.
Because the Dragon God gifted Rudy an arm.
Literally.
Rudy's arm, lost while saving his mother, was 'grown' back by the Dragon God using healing magic, in just a single sentence of description.
The level of healing magic the Dragon God used at the time was unknown, but it was worth noting that this wasn't the 'healing' in Allen's cross-world understanding.
This was limb regeneration, creating matter from thin air to regrow a lost arm.
Healing magic truly had the fantastical essence of a sword-and-magic otherworld.
Extremely fantastical, with an illogical beauty.
But the problem was, Rudy had indeed proven in the original story that magic use in this world could be 'logical'; he used a lot of basic physics knowledge to develop more flexible and advanced magic.
—For example: using physics knowledge to reproduce the process of elemental magic to construct voiceless magic.
However, when Rudy tried to analyze healing magic to learn voiceless casting, he encountered the same bewildered situation Allen was in now.
He couldn't reproduce the principles of healing magic, which meant Rudy never mastered voiceless healing magic even up to his death.
But Sylphy, a native of the jobless world, could.
In other words.
Healing magic couldn't be explained by 'physics' at all.
A transmigrator's mindset only had a detrimental, hindering effect on understanding this kind of magic.
Like Allen, after thinking for a long time, could only come up with a speculation resembling a surgical 'healing operation' for pseudo-limb regeneration, like cloning an arm and surgically grafting it onto the severed limb.
This was clearly wrong...
Allen meticulously examined the skin on his arm where the scar had been, now nowhere to be found.
He usually conserved his mana, never using his healing magic sigil to recover from minor injuries that didn't affect combat and would heal on their own later. Aside from testing its strength the first time, he would only use the healing magic sigil during intense, desperate battles when there was no time to hesitate, to maintain peak physical condition and adapt to changing combat situations.
For instance, the bandit suppression outside Rigard.
Or when in a hurry and the opponent wasn't weak, he would use the healing magic sigil to create a North God Style 'trap' based on information asymmetry, to ensure a quick victory in battle.
For example, the rainy night ambush of Nokoru Gado, or the Mortalit ambush of Wayne.
So, during the assassination earlier today, after a fleeting thought, once Allen confirmed the arm wound wouldn't affect subsequent killing, he left it.
To conduct a test tonight.
Test what?
Whether the healing efficacy of healing magic on 'wounds from different time periods' was consistent?
Was it necessary to test this?—Yes. If he and Rudy were fortunate enough to go to Rapan's Nine-Headed Dragon Labyrinth in the future, and both of them suffered accidental fire damage to their lower bodies at the same time, Sylphy would definitely save him first.
If Rudy was delayed then, he would miss the optimal treatment period. Wouldn't that potentially turn him into a physically male NEET transvestite?
So, the question arose.
Did the healing effect and mana cost for healing scars compare to immediately treating fresh wounds? Would delaying treatment increase the difficulty of healing magic?
Now, the results were in.
The answer to the former was—no, they were different. The answer to the latter was—yes, it would.
Taking the small wound on his hand as an example, based on his experience outside Rigard, compared to the minor injuries that only required a 0.2-second flash of green light to recover, the recovery time for this scar was clearly prolonged.
Allen's healing magic sigil operated at a constant strength of the intermediate healing magic used by Zenith. Therefore, the longer it took to heal the scar, the more mana was spent healing that particular wound.
After just one day, the wound should have partially healed.
But its healing difficulty had paradoxically increased.
Allen rolled onto the bed, lay on his back, rubbing the site of the scar with his fingertip, pondering with narrowed eyes.
Whether a scar or a wound. Even disregarding the healing status, logically, it should be 'the same injury.' Why did the mana cost increase instead of decrease after a period of time?
It was truly quite mystical.
He turned to look at the moon outside the window, pondering for a long time but couldn't come up with a logical explanation.
In his line of sight, the moon disc was clear, yet it involuntarily reminded him of the Great Teleportation mana sphere above the Fittoa territory.
He couldn't figure it out, but, in this loop, there shouldn't be a dangerous situation like the Nine-Headed Dragon of the labyrinth...
"Tomorrow, we'll reach the royal capital and begin the Great Teleportation avoidance plan... Tonight will be a rare good night's sleep..."
"...Time to sleep..."
Allen cast aside his thoughts on healing magic and the fragmented thoughts of concealing healing magic ideas with 'desire.' He casually extinguished the candlelight on the bedside table, rolled over into a comfortable sleeping position, and began to drift off.
Moonlight slowly crept across his forehead.
His consciousness began to blur.
Allen suddenly opened his eyes.
In an instant, his gaze cleared.
He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head towards the door.
There was a faint, almost imperceptible pitter-patter of footsteps lingering outside the door.
Allen looked up at the clock—in the dim night, the time was: 0:45 AM.
He got up, padded barefoot across the deck, and silently walked to the cabin door.
He reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob.
Slowly pulling the door open.
"It's so late. Why are you here?"
As Allen pulled the door open, the owner of the faint footsteps outside slowly revealed herself.
It was Sylphy's small figure.
Perhaps the late April night river breeze was a bit chilly. In the dim corridor, she wore the hooded jacket, similar to a tracksuit, that she often wore in Buena Village, her hands tucked into her pockets.
Allen saw that Sylphy wasn't answering his string of questions and looked at her shoulder.
Sylphy's shoulders were trembling.
"...Cold? Come in first."
Allen reached out and patted Sylphy's shoulder, ushering her in, then closed the door behind him.
He walked towards his bed, first closing the window, then reaching for the matches on the table, striking one with a scratch-scratch.
"Didn't you sleep well last night either? Aren't you tired? Rudy and Eris went to sleep early, you know. Or have you already fallen asleep, and are you having a nightmare?"
"Allen... no need to light the candle..."
Scratch. The match ignited. Allen turned in surprise.
"Hmm? That's for—"
Allen stopped speaking. He stared blankly behind him. In his line of sight, the match light flickered. Sylphy had her head bowed, wearing cat-ear hair clips that were clearly just taken from her pocket.
She was slowly unzipping the jacket in front of her.
Rip...
Gradually revealing her shoulder and neck skin, which was as pale pink as pearls. Her sheer, low-cut, very short nightgown, as her jacket opened, slowly revealed itself to Allen's gaze. Further down, it curved elegantly at her slender waist, stopping an inch above her upper thigh.
Having lost its covering.
Her slightly plump thighs were constricted by white garter stockings, creating a ring of protruding skin. Her knees, slightly turned inward from nervousness, rubbed uncomfortably against each other. Further down were the silver-chained, pearl-strung high heels Allen hadn't noticed before.
Silver chains and pearls adorned Sylphy's toes.
Allen had seen this outfit before. Logically, he shouldn't have been so speechless.
But this time was different.
As her knees moved, Allen noticed the new addition.
A fluffy cat tail extended from beneath Sylphy's skirt, dangling at the back of her knees.
The next instant.
Sylphy sniffled, speaking somewhat indistinctly.
"Allen... do you want... to sleep together...?"
"Huh?"
Allen stared blankly at the tail. The match had already burned down to his fingers, a faint burning sting, yet Allen felt only that this flame...
...was searing more than just his fingers.
He struggled to lift his gaze.
He saw Sylphy, head bowed in extreme shyness, her face crimson, her ears twitching, her eyes fixed on the floor beside her.
Sylphy's eyelashes trembled, and she looked up at Allen.
The light of the match burned in her reddish-brown eyes.
"Meow."
At the second-floor spiral staircase, Isolte calmly looked at Ariel.
The latter paused for a moment, then smiled very naturally.
"Phew... what a surprise. It's Miss Isolte. Are you... also unable to sleep?"
Isolte glanced at Ariel, then turned to look at the nighttime surface of the Artir River, her words laced with a smile.
"Yes, Your Highness, I can't sleep, so I came out to admire the moonlit river."
Ariel looked at Isolte's profile, walking down the staircase step by step, coming to stand beside her, leaning against the railing with her.
"Miss Isolte must have also descended to Flowing Falls City via this waterway before heading to the Fittoa territory, correct? Haven't we met before?"
The two, who had already exchanged basic information on the ship, had indeed met before.
However, the atmosphere then had been more harmonious than it was now.
Isolte's voice was pointed. "I saw you then too; it was also night, but my state of mind was different. I didn't have much leisure to admire the scenery then. What about you? So late, are you also out to admire the moonlit scenery? You don't seem like it."
Ariel rested her chin in her hand, looking at the moon's halo on the river. After a moment of silence, she responded with a smile.
"I didn't come to seek the moonlight; I came to seek you."
Isolte's eyes curved in a smile, unlike the full moon above.
"Oh~ That's very troubling for Your Highness. So late, couldn't it have been during the day?"
"There isn't much time left, you see."
The smile on Isolte's face suddenly vanished. She simply stared expressionlessly at the layers of ripples on the river's surface, stirred by the night wind.
Silence.
After a long moment, Ariel spoke again.
"The loan period is almost over."
Isolte hummed noncommittally.
"My apologies. After today, I don't have much choice left."
"Only that?"
Ariel fell silent.
Isolte, however, thought of something, and a smile blossomed on her lips again, with a hint of triumph. In the dead of night, Ariel, having taken off her 'clothes,' and Isolte, whose emotions always surged at midnight, both found it hard to control their feelings.
Their words were extremely direct and clear.
"I understand you. After all, you were present at the commendation banquet that day. In the 'Free Zone,' there's only one Allen Boreas Greyrat, and he just happens to be at the Water God Style main dojo."
Ariel slowly caressed the railing beneath her hands. Having removed her 'clothes,' she seemed tired of conversations full of pre-planned tactics. She paused only slightly.
Then, she got straight to the point.
"So, are you willing to be my retainer?"
Isolte tilted her head and said, "Senior Brother wants me to become the Water God, so it would be better for me to focus on sword arts."
Ariel turned to look at her face.
"I see. I will still strive to seek a new 'loan period.' Otherwise, once we return to the royal capital, under the threat of my two dear brothers, I fear I won't have many days left to live."
"That precisely proves you lack the qualities of a king," Isolte scoffed.
"Yes, you are right."
Isolte raised her eyebrows in surprise, turning to look at Ariel.
Their gazes entwined.
Ariel's face held a bitter expression. "Actually, to be frank with you, before today, I had no intention of seizing the throne. I understand perfectly well that my strength hasn't reached that level. Both my politically shrewd eldest brother and my two-faced second brother are stronger than me in every aspect."
"They have the confidence to command powerful individuals, but I do not."
"I wonder if you've ever heard a saying, 'Those who wield power beyond their measure, be destroyed.'"
Isolte took the cue.
"The Demon Empress Kishirika's line."
"Precisely. After being defeated by the Golden Knight Aldebaran, she uttered those words, like a curse, on her deathbed. And Aldebaran, upon becoming the Human King, was indeed killed due to betrayal by his subordinates."
"Battle, victory, rule—that is all there is to being a king. But if that's truly the case, why was Aldebaran betrayed and killed?"
Isolte looked at Ariel. The latter didn't expect an answer from Isolte either, simply speaking softly to herself.
It was as if she was trying to convince Isolte.
Or perhaps, herself.
"I was very confused since childhood, but just now, the moment I felt the urge to recruit Mr. Allen, I understood why. Just as Demon Empress Kishirika said."
"If you cannot control overly powerful forces, you will be destroyed. Aldebaran was indeed very capable, but he also had many excellent subjects under him. His inability to fully control powers that weren't truly his own was the cause of his death. And can I control Mr. Allen, or rather, your collective strength?"
"Probably not yet. Your strength is too great for me. Therefore, I simply don't have the confidence to recruit you."
As these words fell, both remained silent, looking at each other.
Isolte looked at Ariel's downcast eyes. After a long moment, she merely shrugged.
"You are much more candid at night."
"I've taken off my 'clothes.' In the royal palace, from a young age, everyone was very cold."
"...I see."
Ariel said no more. She simply looked at the river. After a long time, she opened the conversation again.
This time, with genuine gratitude.
"Thank you for listening. It's been a long time since I've spoken like this with anyone."
Isolte no longer leaned lazily on the railing; she straightened her body, inwardly declaring the Allen Defense Battle a success.
"You're welcome."
"Then, good night, Miss Isolte."
"Good night, Your Highness."
The conversation ended. Ariel turned and walked up the spiral staircase.
After a few steps, she reached the staircase landing under Isolte's gaze. She suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and turned to look at Isolte.
Even in the night wind.
She still smiled brightly.
"However, even though I lack confidence, I still want to try."
"I don't know why, but tonight, although I still don't have much confidence, I feel exceptionally greedy."
Ariel looked directly at Isolte.
"If the fate of those who wield power that doesn't belong to them is destruction, then that's better than simply offering your neck to the executioner."
Isolte frowned, giving Ariel a deep look.
"Then you'd best not be greedy at night."
Ariel let out a soft laugh and turned, stepping onto the staircase.
In two steps, her figure vanished into the night.
Leaving the matter unconfirmed.
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