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Soft, steady footsteps echoed through the space.
In contrast to all the deafening sound from moments earlier, the surroundings had turned so silent that it seemed like sound itself had disappeared.
Prince Vasilion froze, staring blankly at Davey.
Mit, bleeding out on the floor, actually snickered between coughs. He sounded like air hissing out from a balloon from all the injuries, saying, “Pffft. Cough, cough. You’re screwed now, you son of a bitch.”
Crude and ragged for such a noble son, his state looked dire.
However, Davey simply kicked him in the side. “Keep moving that mouth of yours, will ya?”
“Gahh! W-Why did you kick me?!”
“Couple ribs shattered, stab wounds, mana corruption… Even a corpse would be in better shape.”
The blunt diagnosis drained the color from Mit’s face. “C-Can I… can I live?”
“Hold still.” Davey flipped him onto his back, set the bones by force, and pushed pure mana through his system to isolate and drain the corrupted flow.
“Aaaarghhh!!” Mit thrashed in agony, but Davey pinned him down without budging, snapping each and every bone back into place.
“Ughhh! Hrk!”
“Quit whining.”
“I’m not trying to! It hurts like hell! Gaaah!!!”
Davey knew he wasn’t lying. Forcing out corrupted mana hurt even more than broken bones ever could.
Sling.
Then a killing aura came in from behind, accompanying a blade coming straight for the back of Davey’s head.
Mit’s eyes widened at the sight.
It was none other than Isera!
Her face was empty, her body draped in rags, a bloodied sword clutched tight. She had never once hurt anyone before, or even held a blade properly.
Yet her strike at Davey came sharp and precise nonetheless.
Mit screamed, “D-Don’t kill her!!”
It wasn’t out of fear for Davey’s safety, but fear that he might kill her.
Davey, feeling annoyed, felt the impulse to cut her down. Instead,...
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