Morning came slowly to the marshlands.
Mist clung low to the ground, coiling around boots and roots alike. By the time the heroes finished packing, the sun was already a pale disk behind thin clouds, its light diffused enough to cast everything in muted silver.
Ilyrien stood apart, watching the waterline.
She had not slept.
Or rather—she had rested in intervals, her body entering shallow mana circulation instead of true sleep. The heroes noticed only because she hadn't changed position since dawn.
"Ready?" Haruto asked.
She inclined her head. "Yes."
The mission was simple.
I-rank monster suppression.
A pack of Marsh Howlers had been attacking livestock near a river-adjacent village. Low intelligence. Sharp fangs. Strong hind legs for ambush strikes.
Generic. Predictable.
That's what the guild officer had said.
Two hours into the marsh, that illusion shattered.
"They're faster than before," Akira muttered, nocking another arrow.
The first Howler burst from the reeds with a wet snarl.
Shun reacted on instinct, mace swinging wide—but the creature ducked beneath the arc and slammed into his side. Bone cracked. Shun hit the ground hard, breath torn from his lungs.
"KUSO—!"
Haruto stepped forward, fire and wind mana twisting together as he forced the spell circle from memory—
The spell misaligned.
The blast scorched reeds instead of flesh.
"Focus!" Kenta shouted, driving his lance into the Howler's shoulder and pinning it long enough for Naoki to finish it with a clean cut.
But the damage was done.
Shun wasn't getting up.
"Shun!" Yui rushed to his side, hands hovering uselessly above blood-soaked cloth.
His breathing was shallow. Too shallow.
"Ilyrien," Haruto said sharply, turning. "Can you—"
She was already moving.
No chant.
No circle.
No glowing symbols in the air.
Ilyrien knelt beside Shun, her fingers pressing lightly against his ribs. Her four eyes focused inward, not on the wound, but on something beneath it.
Mana flowed—not outward, but inward.
The heroes felt it like pressure dropping before a storm.
A faint white shimmer spread beneath her scales, pulsing in rhythm with Shun's heartbeat.
Then—
The bone shifted.
Audibly.
Shun gasped.
Blood slowed. Muscle knit. Not instantly—but decisively.
Within seconds, the sound of his breathing changed.
Deepened.
Stabilized.
Silence swallowed the clearing.
"What…" Mio whispered, eyes wide. "She didn't even—"
"—chant," Takumi finished.
Ilyrien withdrew her hand.
Her tail twitched once, oil gland releasing a thin sheen of mana-rich fluid. She exhaled through her lathos, scales at her neck briefly glowing before dimming again.
"He will live," she said. "But he must not fight."
Shun stared up at her, stunned. "…I was—"
"Dying," she finished calmly. "Slowly."
No drama. No reverence.
Just fact.
The Howlers returned before anyone could respond.
Three this time.
"Formation!" Haruto shouted.
This time, the heroes moved better.
Souta and Kenta formed the front. Takumi and Naoki guarded flanks. Akira provided cover fire. Mio and Yui focused on spell support, shaky but improving.
The fight was ugly.
They won.
Barely.
When the last Howler fell, the clearing smelled of blood and damp earth.
Later, as they rested near the riverbank, Shun sat upright, ribs wrapped but unbroken.
He flexed experimentally.
"…It doesn't hurt," he said quietly.
Yui looked at Ilyrien. "That… that was healing magic."
"Yes," she replied.
Mio hesitated. "Why didn't you use it before? On everyone?"
Ilyrien met her gaze.
"Because each use shortens my lifespan," she said evenly.
"And because dependence kills faster than wounds."
The words settled heavier than the mist.
Haruto clenched his fist.
For the first time since coming to Leorthus, the heroes understood something clearly—
Healing was not a blessing.
It was a cost.
And today, someone else had paid it for them.