Chapter 31: Serie's Self-Blame
Instead of heading to the human tribe first, the group searched along the river for any sign of Rhodes. However, after a full day of searching, they found nothing.
As night fell, they made a small camp and lit a fire. They didn't have to worry about magical beasts here, and the wild animals posed no threat to them.
"Don't worry. We'll go to the human tribe tomorrow. Rhodes might have already made it there," Kraft said, trying to comfort Serie.
Her face was pale, a clear sign of mana exhaustion. He had also learned that Serie had killed the demon and all of the beasts under its command. She must have paid a heavy price.
"I should have done it sooner," Serie mumbled, as if to herself. They shouldn't have been chased so relentlessly by that one demon. But Serie had hesitated. The monster the demon had created had the ability to absorb magic, and she had no way to defeat it quickly. In the end, she had only managed to destroy it by overdrafting her mana, constantly feeding it magic until it burst. If Rhodes hadn't severely wounded the demon before he fell, her chances of winning would have been slim to none. Even now, her mana was nearly depleted. She wouldn't be able to use any powerful magic for at least a month.
"Young Rhodes has always been lucky. I'm sure he's fine," Somme added, also trying to comfort her. They could all see that Serie and Rhodes had a close relationship. Rhodes's disappearance must have been a heavy blow to her.
Staring into the dancing flames, Serie's thoughts were in turmoil. They had only been traveling together for a month. Why was she so anxious about his disappearance? She didn't understand her own feelings. Regret and remorse twisted together in her gut. She had promised to protect him, to teach him how to survive in this world. She was truly an incompetent partner.
At some point, she had come to think of him as a partner. Just a partner, it seemed.
Seeing that Serie was still silent, Somme scratched his head and looked at Kraft, silently asking if he had any ideas. But Kraft just shook his head. He didn't understand why Serie cared so much for a human, so how could he possibly console her? Besides, he himself was still in the process of exploring his own emotions. He only seemed more emotionally expressive than Serie because he had encountered more people in his travels, had witnessed a wider range of emotions, and had been influenced by them.
The fire died down, and they all lay down on the ground, but Serie felt no urge to sleep. Gazing at the starry sky, she remembered her conversation with Rhodes about the stars. The grass was prickly under her, and after so long sleeping on a soft blanket, the hard ground felt uncomfortable. He always took such good care of me, she thought. And I'm supposed to be the strong one. For some reason, the corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile, a smile she didn't even notice.
After a full day of rest, Rhodes felt much better. He could walk without any problems, though any strenuous movement was still a bit painful. It was within a tolerable range. It was probably due to the herbal soup Norne had given him. He had said it was a secret recipe passed down through their village for generations, and that it was remarkably effective for internal injuries. Even if you were seriously hurt, you could be on your feet after a week of drinking it, and fully recovered in half a month.
Last night, Norne had even brought him a bowl of feathered-chicken soup, with a large drumstick and some unfamiliar wild vegetables. The soup had been delicious, not too salty and not too bland. Rhodes had also noticed some spices in it. Truly, humans were a culinary race, capable of inventing delicious food no matter where they were.
"It seems your injuries are no longer a major concern," Norne said with a smile, seeing Rhodes walking without any difficulty.
"Yes. What are you doing?" Rhodes saw that Norne was holding a quill and writing something on a piece of animal hide. The quill itself was a bit... abstract. It felt a little out of place.
"Allocating supplies." Norne held up the quill, noticing Rhodes's gaze. "Curious about this? It's a feather from a feathered-chicken. I found it was quite suitable for writing, so I started using it."
"You don't need to pay him any mind," Eirik said, walking over. "Norne is always coming up with some new idea. I have no idea what goes on in that head of his."
"We need to keep a record," Norne said irritably. "If we just go back to the old way of arguing over who gets what, it will be a constant headache. This way, we have a system."
Rhodes looked at the hide in Norne's hand with interest. A mixture of charcoal and plant juice served as a kind of ink, and on the hide were clear markings indicating the distribution of supplies for each household.
"Your village already has a written language?" Rhodes couldn't help but ask. To see such a systematic method of distribution in this primitive world was surprising. He had seen the dwarves in Somme's village writing in the common script of this world, but considering that the dwarves had once had a glorious kingdom, that wasn't too surprising. But to see the common script in a primitive human village... it took him a moment to process.
Norne scratched his head sheepishly. "Mr. Kraft taught us, actually. He taught us many things, including how to read, write, and count."
That explains it.
"But this guy is even more incredible," Eirik interjected. "He's always tinkering with strange things. The other day, he tried to use tree bark instead of animal hide for writing. The ink just soaked right through."
"Ahem, next time I'll try drying the bark first."
"Won't it just crumble at the slightest touch?" Eirik retorted with a grin, then turned his attention back to Rhodes. "You've recovered quickly."
"I have. What, feeling the itch for a sparring match?"
"Hmm... is that alright?"
"Of course." Rhodes swung his arm in a circle to show that he was fine.
"Eirik!" Norne shouted, exasperated. "There you go again."
Ever since their skills had improved, no one in the village was a match for them. And since Norne was often busy managing the village, he rarely had time to spar with Eirik. Seeing this outsider, he knew his friend was getting restless.
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