Chapter 99
The Grand Marshals were dead.
Not just one, but four.
This was a victory so great and significant that it would never run out of superlatives to describe it. And yet, as those leaving the battlefield passed, not a single smile could be found among them.
Arthur, who had lost consciousness, was carried onto a carriage with Gricia guarding him closely. Her eyes carried an overwhelming worry—a sentiment that seemed at odds with one who had just won a hard-fought war.
The soldiers, though they had survived the brutal conflict, looked hollow. They had not yet been able to wipe away the memory of their fallen comrades, buried under the muddy earth.
Time passed. A day went by.
“His Majesty awaits you.”
The royal palace had sent a young servant upon hearing the news. He appeared quite green, visibly trying to suppress nausea from the lingering smell of blood, though his effort to hide it was impressively composed—it wasn’t necessary.
After boarding Rex and Alter in the rear compartment of the renovated baggage carriage, the servant ushered me into the carriage.
It creaked and groaned as the wheels passed over the damaged road, gradually leaving behind the black, sticky mud.
The wind picked up, ruffling the flags that waved high above, slowly fading into the distance.
“…”
Lir and I remained silent in the carriage. There was no real reason for the silence—it was just that there wasn’t much to say.
Greenery soon surrounded us, its pleasant scent causing the horses to perk up.
“Attention!”
A loud voice interrupted my daze. It was Belua, his red hammer proudly held high.
“For the glory of the empire, salute!”
The soldiers lined up, their boots striking the ground with a thunderous echo.
There, flanked by many dwarves, a few elves, and humans, stood countless ranks stretching alongside the supply route.
“From the Third Division of the Black Hammer Unit of the Empire’s army, we pay our respects to the general of the Allied Empire!”
“Honor!”
Upon Belua’s command, the soldiers all raised their hands to their brows in salute.
It was stifling.
Why is it so unbearably hot and humid in the Achilipthus Forest?
“…Honor.”
I extended my hand out the window toward those lining the path.
“Hmm?”
At the end of the neat parade, a figure clad in a sharp uniform caught my eye.
His lustrous blonde hair and elongated, slender ears revealed his lineage.
“Honestly, I expected you’d be dead by now, brat.”
It was Trian. Quietly stepping forward from the line, he moved closer to the road as if he were waiting for something.
“Dangerous, back to the line…”
“Leave it.”
I interrupted the coachman and gestured to him to stop.
“If you come back alive, I’ll give you a hit. Remember that?”
Trian’s voice grew louder and more assertive.
Unable to hold back an amused laugh, I burst out laughing, and shortly after, Lir joined me with a soft smile.
“I’m a man of my word, so here’s your chance.”
Leaning out of the window, I motioned for the driver to stop the carriage.
Trian stood before the window, his eyes sweeping the dim interior before locking onto mine carefully.
“How does it feel being promoted?”
“Like a beggar.”
I spoke honestly about my current state of heart.
Killing four Grand Marshals hadn’t significantly changed the state of Valleland; the mud still concealed bones and decaying flesh, the injured moaned, and there were those who seemed to have lost their very souls.
With no battles occurring, the battlefield remained what it was.
Those sifting through the clumps of mud for the bodies of comrades, injured soldiers buried under piles of corpses crying for help, soldiers unable to sleep.
Victory, such as it was, was not truly apparent.
“…Yeah. War is hell.”
I clenched my left hand into a fist and lightly tapped Trian’s chest. He maintained his stiff posture, his body unmoving.
“Let’s depart!”
Turning my head out the window, I instructed the coachman to proceed.
“…Honor.”
As the wheels struck the ground and the horses began their trot, Trian whispered softly. I turned my head back instinctively, wondering if I had misheard, but there he was with his hand saluting by his eyebrows.
“…”
I could do nothing but stare dumbfounded at Trian’s respectful salute. My right arm, which refused to cooperate, made it impossible for me to return the gesture properly, in respect to his perfectly straight salute.
An uneasy silence settled between Trian and me.
‘To salute with my left hand…?’ Just as the thought crossed my mind…
“…Hyah!”
The coachman, perhaps sensing the awkward moment between Trian and me, cracked his whip, startling the horses forward just in time.
The carriage gradually left the Achilipthus Forest. Trian only lowered his hand when he became an insignificant dot on the horizon.
“…I should’ve just told him to take a break.”
What folly, truly.
Upon reaching the palace, I immediately shed my robe.
It was covered in sweat, blood, and mud, and smelled foul.
Then I proceeded to my room.
I knew I needed to file reports, but what I wanted more urgently was a bath. I wanted to cleanse myself of the repulsive odor clinging to my skin.
Peeling off the sweat- and dirt-soaked clothes was no easy feat. Already weak, with my right hand useless, it took me over ten minutes to discard the robe and the garments beneath.
Finally, before the water cooled, I managed to step into the tub. The warm water washed away all the filth and grime from my body.
Steam condensed on the ceiling of the bathroom.
“…Too hot.”
I remained in the bath until my once white skin turned a shade of red. A part of me wished I could simply dissolve in the water and disappear.
Sitting in the hot tub for too long, I realized I was pushing myself into a bad situation. Yet, I stayed there.
Once I finally felt clean enough to emerge, I opened the bathroom door and stumbled out as my vision blurred and the world flipped upside down.
I couldn’t stay upright any longer and ended up throwing myself onto the bed without even drying off properly.
The price of losing consciousness without properly drying off turned out to be severe. Exposed naked to the chilly autumn air for hours, I contracted a potent cold.
According to the servant, my body temperature soared to nearly 40°C at one point. Even though shivers ran through my body and breathing became difficult, I did not feel significant pain.
For almost two days, I was bedridden.
Consequently, the meeting with the king was excused.
During this time, Lir stayed by my side, constantly replacing the towels and wiping away my sweat.
She only left my side when she had to momentarily check Alter’s condition.
On the third day, my fever had dropped significantly, though a mild sore throat still lingered. At this stage, I was well enough for regular daily activities.
I boiled a pot of tea and coffee and waited for Lir, as she had left to check on her master before breakfast.
An hour or two passed.
Lir had not returned.
I tried to calm down my growing anxiety as I grasped the door handle. Just then, the door opened by itself, and an excited Lir stepped in.
“…You’re awake.”
Fresh tear tracks were evident on her cheeks.
The recovery was far quicker than expected, considering the previous prediction of over two weeks.
Together with Lir, I headed to Alter’s room to check on his condition. There lay the white-haired elderly man surrounded by priests and doctors.
Alter met us with a bright smile as we opened the door.
Lir rushed to his side, chirping about everything that had happened lately. Alter gently stroked her hair with his trembling hands.
It was such a heartwarming scene.
However, one of the doctors drew me aside with a significant whisper, requesting a private word.
“What’s the matter?”
“…The issue is Alter’s legs.”
The doctor first expressed his regrets before detailing Alter’s current situation.
When discovered by the Sword Saint, Alter had been caught in a massive storm created by Maltiel. Both of his legs were shattered, and his body was covered in burns.
Although his age caused some concern, his recovery was remarkably swift, enabling him to quickly regain consciousness thanks to the Holy Maiden’s assistance. Nonetheless, a severe aftereffect persisted in Alter’s legs.
“Aftermath? How serious is it?”
“Considering Alter’s age… he won’t be able to run. In fact, even walking might prove difficult.”
“…What?”
“Rehabilitation must be conducted for no more than 15 minutes daily. Attempting any more would worsen his condition. Until the 30th of this month, he must remain in bed to stabilize his legs…”
A ringing in my ears buzzed incessantly.
*
Alter spent 23 out of 24 hours in bed.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. How could he manage to spend even an hour away from his bed?
The doctor had said that until the 30th of this month, he must stay in bed, absolutely immobilizing his legs.
Despite this, during meal times, he insisted on sitting at the dining table to eat. He also tried to sit at the desk for at least ten minutes daily to read books.
When I or Lir suggested that reading could easily be done in bed as well, Alter obstinately argued that “for scholars, the desk is a second battlefield” and other such nonsense.
Alter was well aware of the condition of his legs.
Doctors and priests repeatedly warned him to rest in bed, but Alter Heinzel, the stubborn old man, refused to listen.
On the fourth evening, Alter began to force himself out of bed. By the fifth morning, he started his own rehabilitation, gripping the corridor walls.
After falling after walking just a meter, he would grunt and push himself back up using his cane, without ever seeking anyone’s help.
I joked that he had finally developed a pace suitable for his age.
Lir responded coolly to my sarcastic remark, but Alter laughed heartily as he made the corridor lively.
“Coming from someone who’s always as cunning as an eel, you’re not exactly known for giving cold advice when it counts.”
While leaning against the wall, Alter turned his head toward me.
Sweat soaked his face, yet his eyes still sparkled, and his hands were strong.
“…It seems you’ve grown old. All this nonsense talking.”
“Just speak clearly without beating around the bush.”
His eyes carried a faint trace of pity.
Pity? Isn’t the man with the broken legs the one who should be showing concern?
“…”
Speechless from disbelief, I remained quiet.
Alter patiently waited, giving me the space to gather my thoughts. Perhaps a full ten minutes had passed. Or maybe just 30 seconds—we often lose track of time when silence grows heavy.
“…It’s time for you to retire.”
Breaking the heavy silence, I delivered my prepared line.
“No.”
Alter rejected the suggestion immediately, without a moment’s hesitation.
…Did he even consider the effort and thought I put into phrasing that statement?
Damn stubborn old man. Can’t he show a little consideration for the person trying to reason with him?
“With your legs, you cannot return to the field.”
“Of course not in this state, but rehabilitation should take less than a month.”
“With even the best rehabilitation, you’ll need a cane for the rest of your life.”
“The doctors and priests have said the same. But isn’t there such a thing as an exception?”
“…”
Lir silently pulled on Alter’s collar, likely feeling the same sympathy for her mentor, who struggled like this.
“Don’t say such nonsense. That’s unlike you, Alter.”
“Haha, this old man’s stubbornness is no laughing matter! I can’t comply with that request.”
Alter’s eyes still sparkled.
They gave me hope—he might just prove me wrong with another miracle. Alter Heinzel could do it, right?
…No.
We cannot entrust our futures to such vague hopes.
“Retire. Leave the battlefield to the young ones. Focus on educating me and Lir.”
This is reality.
Someone needs to stop this spirited old man.
If we let him, he would exhaust his already fragile legs in the name of ‘rehabilitation.’
He’ll end up unable to walk even with the aid of a cane, and eventually depend on a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
Believing in miracles and letting him be would ultimately be like sentencing him to death.
“Alter’s legs have almost zero chance of regaining functionality. He’s old, and the injury was far from minor. This outcome is itself a miracle.”
“How can I rest and let these inept disciples face the battlefield alone? Both Lir and Bin seem inadequate even when compared to a bare-naked monkey.”
“Alter deserves to rest.”
“Rest is poison for a man like me. In an era where battles rage across the continent every day, sitting under a tree greeting sparrows in the sunshine does not suit this man standing before you.”
“…”
Damn it again, those eyes.
“How can a man who’s accomplished everything still carry these eyes?”
“I haven’t accomplished everything. The barrier to the 9th Circle still looms before me. And once I reach the 9th Circle, I’ll challenge the 10th. I have so much further to climb.”
The elder had the eyes of a boy.
They gazed towards dreams unfulfilled, sparkling with the determination to risk anything.
“Failure to set foot forward in pursuit of miracles is more terrifying than being unable to walk.”
The elderly man before me was a boy, an explorer, an unrelenting seeker…
…and also a Mage.
“…I’ll wait. Fix those legs quickly.”
That was all I could say to Alter Heinzel in the end.
