"Umm… Commander Lydia, maybe we should stop and patch up first," I began carefully.
But of course, I wasn't even allowed to finish.
"No! Another round!" she cut me off, her tone firm, almost commanding.
I frowned. My eyes drifted to her leg.
Blood still oozing steadily while she forced herself to draw mana.
My jaw tightened. Drawing mana with wounds like that only sped up blood loss, each pulse forcing more blood through the punctures in her thigh.
"Commander Lydia," I said, my tone serious now. "Fresh round, fresh start. Let's treat your wounds first, then we'll fight again."
She glanced at her leg like it was just… another piece of her body.
Well.. technically, it is.. but I didn't like the way she looked at it, as though it was disposable.
Then, with a slow breath, she finally sighed.
"Alright."
"Great," I nodded.
She pushed herself up. "I'll get the pot—"
Her words cut off as her leg buckled. She pitched forward, face aimed straight for the dirt.
I caught her instinctively.
"Ughhh!" The sound ripped from my throat as her water armor pressed against my bare skin.
It didn't just burn. It melted.
"Nonono!" Lydia yanked herself away, but the damage was already done.
My shirt was gone, my hand nothing but raw flesh.
The skin dripped onto the ground, sizzling where it hit.
"Ugghh.."
I twisted my arm against my stomach, teeth clenched, sweat beading across my forehead. The pain was white-hot, crawling from my hand into my shoulder.
"Rune…" Lydia's voice wavered. The aqua armor around her disappeared entirely. She reached for me.
"Kuek!" I groaned as her fingers brushed the ruined mess of my hand.
"I'm sorry!" she said, panic in her eyes. "I'll call for help!" She spun, looking toward the camps, but the distance was hopeless.
I lifted my good hand to stop her. "Nexar" I muttered, bringing the ruined hand near my mouth. "Let's burn through points."
"What are you saying!?" Lydia's voice cracked, her eyes glassy. "How are you bearing this pain?!"
I hovered my palm above the ruined hand. The glowing liquid slipped into the wound, and purple light spread.
The skin began winding back together, bone knitting itself, fresh flesh crawling over the exposed white.
"No way!" Lydia's eyes widened. "Regeneration can't work against Aqua Aegis's acid!"
"Not normally," I said through gritted teeth, my face pale, sweat dripping like rain. "But this isn't just a regen potion… this is a mystic potion."
Her eyes trembled as she clutched my arm, leaning in close... so close her chest pressed against mine.
Bigger than Sera's. Way bigger.
["I can't believe you called me a pervert."]
I ignored him.
"I'm sorry…" Lydia whispered, clutching my hand tighter. "I attacked a comrade."
"What do you mean?" I managed a smirk despite the pain. "So bold of you to assume you could actually hurt me like this without your aura and my permission."
Her brows furrowed. "What…?"
"It was me who caught you, even knowing what Aqua Aegis can do. Instinct or not.. that's on me."
She exhaled slowly, guilt shadowing her expression.
"Come with me," she said. "You need proper pain relief." She carefully helped me to my feet.
"No worries," I said, forcing a laugh. "I've endured pain way worse than this."
Her gaze stayed troubled. "I'm sorry… all this because I refused to admit defeat."
"Whatever. I'm fine now. Let's drop it," I said quickly.
Still, she leaned against me, supporting my arm against her chest.
My arm… was now sandwiched between those giant melons.
"Umm…" I muttered, eyes darting away. "Maybe we should, uh, think about catching Drane."
"Yes," she said, her voice soft but steady. "We'll capture Drane and his group of traitors by noon. Then head straight to the dungeon for your sword." She smiled. That pure and radiant smile.
Dawn sharpened the contours of her face.
I just stared at her.
"Is… something on my face?" she asked, puzzled.
"Nope," I said honestly. "Just in awe of the beauty."
Damn, I am really getting good at this.
Her eyes widened. She turned away instantly.
"W-well… we should get going. L-let's meet at the camp to discuss strategy." Her words stumbled, her composure cracked.
She cleared her throat. "Ahem." Then, with that same smile, she added, "I'm starting to believe you are from the future."
"Really?" I asked, amused.
"Yup," she said playfully, walking backwards with her hands folded behind her.
Then she turned, her pale skin glowing under the full embrace of dawn.
I froze. "Commander Lydia.. your leg.. where are all those wounds..?"
"Huh..?"
******
"Who's Virgin Potato?" one of the guards asked, squinting at the register.
His eyes flicked to the middle-aged woman sitting behind the counter.
The innkeeper didn't flinch. "That's an alias one of my customers asked for."
........
The guards stared at her like she had grown another head.
Then the one holding the ledger slammed it against the counter.
"Look here, hag. I don't care about your stupid nicknames. Have you seen a white-haired girl and a black-haired boy, around eighteen? Walking together?" His hand slid toward the hilt of his sword.
The emblem of an eagle gleamed on his armor.
Behind him, more guards pushed their way inside, forcing the inn's customers out into the street.
The innkeeper tilted her head, pretending to think. "Hmm… that's right."
The guard's face brightened. "Good. Now we're talking. Where did they go?"
She tapped her chin as though considering. Then she shrugged.
"All of them went through that door. But then again… it is the only exit."
A vein throbbed on the guard's forehead.
"And most of the black-haired boys are regular customers here too!" she added, her tone almost cheerful.
The guard's patience snapped. His sword flashed out, pressing against her neck.
A thin line of blood trickled down, but the innkeeper didn't so much as blink. Her gaze stayed locked on him.
He leaned across the counter, his face twisted. "You old hag. Are you going against the SBV? Against the church?"
Her lips curled into a smirk. "The church? Since when did your cult get to call itself that?" Her hand closed around the blade, blood welling between her fingers.
The guard faltered, eyes flicking to the crimson dripping from her palm.
"Listen here," the innkeeper said, her voice calm, almost bored, despite the blood.
"I pay your cult an annual sum so scum like you stay out of my inn. Don't mistake that for weakness."
Heat shimmered against her palm. A faint red ember flared to life, glowing along the steel.
The guard recoiled, jerking back and stumbling into one of his subordinates for support.
"You… you cunt!" he spat, flecks of saliva flying. "I'll file a complaint! Assault on a guard on duty!"
"Every drop of blood spilled here is mine," she said evenly. "And with a weapon at my throat. If anything, I should be the one filing a complaint. With the Sinclair guards."
The captain's jaw clenched. He swallowed back whatever curse rose in his throat, then spun on his heel. With a sharp kick, he slammed the door open.
"Let's leave!" he barked.
His subordinates scrambled after him, falling into line as they exited the inn.
A subordinate hurried up to his captain, who was still fuming.
"Sir!" the man saluted quickly, a bead of sweat trailing down his face.
"We've already searched every inn within a ten-kilometer perimeter of the town. What are we going to tell Inquisitor Merin?"
The captain's jaw tightened. He bit his lip hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.
"There is no way I'm going to her without something."
"But sir," the guard pressed, his voice hesitant, "we're almost out of time. The deadline she gave us..."
"I know!" the captain roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the street.
The men around him flinched. Then, as if a darker thought slipped in, his expression shifted.
He licked his lips, eyes narrowing in anticipation. "If I get her what she wants… she might reward me."
"Miss Merin…" he whispered, his tongue running across his teeth. A drop of drool slid down his chin.
The subordinate beside him instinctively took a step back, fighting the urge to grimace at the display.
Before the silence could thicken, another guard came sprinting toward them.
"Captain!" he yelled, nearly stumbling as he skidded to a stop.
The captain turned on him with fury flashing in his eyes. "What is it!?"
The guard gulped down air. "The Inquisitor! She's taken on the subjugation mission that's been pending for over a year… The Shadowfen Valley!"
The captain blinked, caught off guard. "Shadowfen Valley? I didn't even know the Adventurer's Guild still had a quest for that place."
The man shook his head quickly. "It wasn't theirs anymore, sir. They handed it to us long ago. The high command have sent men there… squads, even commanders. None of them returned."
At that, a chill rippled through the ranks. The guards swallowed hard, the whispers and half-told stories of the cursed valley clawing back to the surface of their minds.
Men had vanished in those swamps. Even aura users from the capital branch had gone silent there. No one came back.
But while the soldiers shivered, their captain's lips curved into a slow, delighted grin.
"I'll go with her."
The guard's eyes went wide. "Sir! Not even the commanders who entered... none survived! Not even aura users, and you.." His words broke, dying on his tongue as fear strangled them.
The captain's gaze cut to him, sharp and obsessive.
"Don't worry. Miss Merin may be an Inquisitor now, but before that, she was a general in the SBV. Just a star short of marshal. She'll carry the mission… and I'll get a closed case under my record."
His grin stretched wider, his teeth bared like an animal's. "And I'll be by her side. My goddess…"
The way he whispered it, with hunger and devotion twisted together, made the other guards avert their eyes in disgust.
His obsession curdled the air, more unsettling than the valley's ghost stories.
"Now then!" he barked suddenly, snapping them back to attention. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous excitement.
"Move out! Ask anyone and everyone about them. I'll pay a visit to the orphanage. It's been too long since I last met Seraphina."
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips again. The men exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared speak.