“Thank you for the grace, Your Excellency! She is definitely worth healing!” One could see a hint of tears in the lead warrior’s eyes. He knew just how precious Hasting’s soul force was, and a legendary mage’s best wasn’t as simple as it seemed.
“What’s her name?” Hasting asked.
“She calls herself Silverwolf.”
“Silverwolf? Interesting name, but I can see why… Alright, you lot can leave. I will have to test her soul protection first. Remember to send any special Daxdus corpses my way.”
“Of course!” The lead warrior agreed and retreated from the hall. This wasn’t any new request.
When the warriors were gone, Hasting gently placed his hand on the girl’s forehead, eyes slowly turning a pale green. The girl’s body slowly turned transparent, only revealing specks of light that indicated the power of her soul.
“Eh… This is… Wow, there are soulmasters in Norland that are this good? Could one of the old men have returned? Wait… what’s this… Oh no…”
The green in Hasting’s eyes dissipated as he gazed at the sleeping girl with a look of exhaustion. Her soul injuries were far more serious than he had assumed, and if not for the protection she would have died long ago. “Well, what do I do… Sigh, forget it. Why did I have to say I’ll do my best? Now I have no choice but to go all out.”
The legendary mage walked over to an ancient cupboard, withdrawing a porcelain jar the size of a fist. The jar was very crude and made in barbarian style, the patterns on it already fading away and the shape not even symmetrical. However, Hasting carefully took off the mud seal of the jar and drank all of the turbid liquid within, blanching as he spat out a mouthful of black fire. His face immediately started to turn rosy.
He then walked over to the stone table once more, reaching out to press down on it and activate a magic formation. Afterwards, to rays of green shot out from his eyes and illuminated the girl’s face.
One could see dark motes of varying sizes entering the girl’s body through these beams, and someone with good eyesight would even notice that every mote was actually the image of a creature. Ferocious beasts, all sorts of strange races, even Daxdians were being poured in.
Every image deposited into the girl’s body would be attracted by the specks of soul light within her, and the flickering lights within started to turn brighter. Every image was a soul fragment that Hasting had refined personally, the source of power for his legendary ability.
The hall was dark and sinister, the murky green light seeming to come from a terrifying foreign plane.
There was chaos within the streets near the city gates, buildings and walls alike lying shattered on the stone streets. The city that had lasted for an untold number of years was being broken apart by the repeated battles, and while some of it had been restored that work was shoddy and incomplete. The stone had all been cracked apart to various degrees, a solemn testament to the battle between civilisations.
The streets were extremely silent as those assigned to cleaning up took care of their duties. The Daxdians had completely withdrawn and would not reappear for at least some time.
At the porch of one house was an old man curled up in his chair, dozed off while bathing in the rays of the Eternal Glory formation. The light of the spell was comparable to soft sunshine, making one feel comfortably warm. It also helped heal some old wounds that Lawrence had accumulated over the years.
However, a set of rapid footsteps suddenly broke the peace of the area. The people approaching seemed extremely flustered, but the consciously slowed down as they reached the house.
“Your Excellency,” a slender, tanned man said softly as he looked at the sleeping Lawrence.
Your Excellency? Lawrence woke up in confusion, it had been a long time since he had been addressed that way. Few in this city were so respectful to him now, and the reverence caused him to keep his temper at Beye. He turned over lazily, not even bothering to open his eyes, “You should know I don’t like being disturbed during my naps. It’d be a pity to waste such great sunshine.”
The man hesitated for a while but still pressed on, “Your Excellency, these soldiers have sustained serious injuries. The clerics have used up all their power for today, and there are two with injuries too serious for them to heal. You are the only one in this city who can save them.”
“What?” Lawrence’s moustache twitched, “Then what are you still standing outside for? Come in, quickly!”
Lawrence had the men carry the injured inside and build a few temporary tables, after which he started to examine the injuries one after the other, “I still remember you, kid. I only treated you in passing, but you’ve always been respectful towards me. You’ve got a conscience, huh. If not for you, these people could die a hundred more times and I still wouldn’t let them disturb my nap. Did that stubborn old coot think everything could be solved as long as Hasting was around? Back in the day, if not for me….”
Listening to rumours and gossip about legendary beings, the man could only make a few sounds of acknowledgement. His comrades were scattered around, watching reverently as Lawrence cut open injuries without second thought, movements as smooth as cutting up a steak on a dinner table.
Lawrence’s art was called living alchemy, the name alone chilling to the ear. The art was even more obscure than puppet alchemy, and despite its name it actually existed mostly outside the realm of magic. The common theory was that this art had been developed from puppet alchemy as its analogue for living creatures, which was why most of its practitioners were mages.
One of the healthy warriors present suddenly sniffed hard at the air, whipping out a dagger as he shouted coldly, “Everyone, careful! I smell a demon!”
The warriors immediately made battle preparations, the injured ones grasping any weapons they could get a hold of. On the battlefields of despair, fighting was instinct. The first one suddenly turned and leapt across a collapsed wall, charging into an adjacent courtyard with his allies in tow.
Everything happened far too quickly. By the time Lawrence realised what was going on, a sequence of dull thuds were already resounding from Richard’s residence. The old man immediately shouted in a shrill voice, “Hold it! That’s Richard’s house!”
“There is a demon in Lord Richard’s room!” the first warrior answered, “Do not worry, I will contain the damage.”
Lawrence sighed, “The demon is Richard’s prisoner, don’t hurt him. Fall back, let me talk.”
The warrior seemed to freeze for a while, but he still jumped out from the room as he was told. He stared hard at the young demon who was being walked out by two others, all three now bleeding seriously. Blacklight obviously hadn’t been lying when he said he wasn’t weak.
Seeing Blacklight walk out despite the stinging light of the Eternal Glory formation, Lawrence almost couldn’t suppress a sigh of admiration, “Alright, don’t resist. Yes, it’ll all be fine…”
Blacklight slowly let down his guard, but a shadow suddenly flashed behind him and knocked him to the ground. The slender man’s figure revealed itself as he withdrew his palm, looking down at the fainted demon. This man was a sub-legendary being, so Lawrence had been given no chance to stop him.
“It’s a Dranicus!” the man suddenly shouted in elation.
Another warrior with unique armour suddenly spoke up as well, “His Excellency Hasting has been searching for Daxdus royalty! This is great, we’ll hand him over immediately! The Marshal and His Excellency will surely reward us well, I’ll report it right away!”
Just as the warrior turned to leave, Lawrence finally shouted, “Stand right there! I already told you that he’s Richard's prisoner. This has nothing to do with the military; until he returns, nobody can take the demon away!”Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Translated By: Ying
Edited By: Theo
TLC'ed By: OMA