Chapter 36

Rugis, who had collapsed, was undoubtedly in a critical condition, bordering on severe. His right arm and shoulder were burned and charred, a miracle that they were not completely carbonized. The upper half of his body, centered on his back, showed significant skin deterioration. The dark red scene was unbearable to look at, and Fialart La Borgograde's expression twisted in pain.

But if he wasn't saved now, he would die. Despite her unsteady steps, Fialart approached the fallen Rugis.

Now. This is the only time. The commotion caused by the arson was beginning to calm down thanks to the desperate efforts of the believers to extinguish the fire. The only time Rugis could be saved was when they were too busy to pay attention. If left in this condition, he would undoubtedly meet the hands of death. Even if he survived, he would surely be left with a disability, making his life as an adventurer hopeless.

No, I won't allow that. Fialart pressed her hands against the wounds. The sensation that spread across her palms was almost indescribable. I have decided to save him, Rugis. I am convinced that he is the one who should be golden. No, I cannot allow him to wither and die here.

Once again, Fialart's lips began to form the words of a spell.

"......g, fa...!?"

Her throat constricted. The magic power that should have been entwined with her voice was not being emitted at all. From the tips of her hair to the tips of her toes, there was no magical reaction in her body.

Fialart's face paled, and her eyes were stained with regret and despair. She understood this feeling all too well. In the past, when she still believed in effort, she had worked hard every day until she reached this state.

This was the phenomenon of magic depletion. Not just a lack, but a complete depletion. In this state, a magician could not perform magic without adequate rest.

No matter how much she tried to concentrate and gather magic, nothing would accumulate in her hands, and her throat seemed to have forgotten how to produce sound.

No, this can't be. How can this be?

Tears welled up in her black eyes. Finally, finally, I had found my path. And now, the person who represented that path, Rugis, was about to die. Despite all this, I still couldn't do anything. I was still useless.

If only I had died. If I had to be shown hope and then thrown into the depths of hell, I would have preferred to die with him in the flames. That would have been true salvation.

Fialart's heart was blackened and dragged into the depths. She lowered her eyes and bowed her head. Suddenly, two voices echoed in her ears, one female and one male.

"Magic depletion, huh. You're pushing yourself too hard."

"Your face already shows deep lines, Fialart. Please rest. If you continue to use your magic, you won't be safe either."

As he said this, the man extended his hand.

One of the voices was one Fialart knew well. It was undoubtedly the voice of Helt Stanley. The hand extended was gentle, and his expression showed concern for Fialart. The other voice belonged to the female swordsman, Celia, who had always been by Rugis's side.

Both of them had soot on their clothes and what appeared to be bloodstains, but there were no significant wounds visible.

When Fialart raised her head and recognized their figures, two conflicting emotions welled up in her heart.

One was relief.

Ah, now he will be saved. They are undoubtedly talented. From the way they had slipped through the chaos with almost no injuries, it was clear they were golden. Therefore, there was no need to worry anymore. Everything would end well.

The second was a hatred that froze her heart.

Fialart's body stiffened, and her teeth ground together. Ah, again. Again? After we, Rugis and I, have given our all, will you, the golden ones, take it all away in the end? Please stop. I don't want such a reality. If I have to be shown that I can't do anything without the golden ones, I would have preferred to die with him here.

The relief offered in exchange for dignity and independence. Would a poor person welcome such a hand extended from the heavens? Fialart saw her fingers trembling unconsciously. The image of Rugis's brave figure appeared in her mind. He had acted to protect his dignity and was now facing death. He had chosen to die with the scythe of death as his companion, maintaining his integrity.

Ah, how sweet that must be. Could I, could I make such a choice? Could I reach out and grasp the sweet fruit beyond death?

Fialart slightly turned her face away from the two, her beautiful expression twisting. Her eyes were clearly filled with tears of regret.

"No, that won't do. You said your name is Fialart, right? I need you to do one more thing."

Interrupting Helt, who had extended his hand to let Fialart rest, Celia declared this. As she walked with confidence, she picked something up from the rubble.

At first glance, it didn't seem to be of much value. It looked like an old sword, perhaps of some value as an antique. Fialart vaguely remembered that it was the sword Rugis had worn at his waist. It was a rather ordinary-looking item.

"This is a family heirloom. According to legend, it was called a miracle or a mystery. I don't know its effects, but it is certainly refined with magic."

Celia threw the sword carelessly, and Fialart, though confused, caught it with both hands as it was thrown to her chest.

Ah, this is something foreign. The moment she caught it, a sigh of amazement escaped Fialart's lips. As a magician, she couldn't tell how effective this sword was, but she could feel that it was woven with magic from the blade to the hilt. Could the best magicians and sorcerers from all over the world today recreate this?

Fialart's hands, which held the sword, were involuntarily sweating.

"No need for an explanation. This foolish adventurer must have done something on his own. ... Unfortunately, I can't do anything about it."

So I'm leaving it to you, she whispered, and Fialart, taken aback, cast a suspicious glance at Celia.

Her expression remained composed, with her long, narrow eyes narrowed and her small lips tightly closed. But the emotion in her voice and silver eyes was undoubtedly regret and frustration.

If I could, I wouldn't leave it to you, Celia's eyes spoke. Her hands were tightly clasped, suppressing her emotions.

"... Yes, I will do everything in my power."

The corners of Fialart's lips couldn't help but curl up.

Ah, it's me. I am the one who will save this person. Celia's assistance was certainly a help, and it was true that she would have given up alone. But at this moment, the one who will save him, Rugis, is not the geniuses but me.

She converted the magic sword she held with both hands into her own magic, weaving it together and pressing it onto Rugis's body. Fialart's fingers became stained with blood and dirt, but such things were no longer a concern.

She closed her eyes and saw ink being pressed onto a parchment in her mind.

How to use this block of magic to repair Rugis's body. She had to figure out the path right here and now. This was different from using existing magic. Her hands moved uncontrollably as she wrote down the magical theory on the parchment in her mind. The feeling of the unknown magical theory being neatly constructed was strange and, in a way, comforting. Since childhood, she had had similar thoughts. The method of incorporating external magic into a person, making it a part of their skin and body, was a theory that others had ridiculed.

But now, in her mind, that theory was shining brightly. Fialart opened her eyes and, without blinking, opened her throat to cast the breath of magic.

-- I wish for the technique to forge this person in my hands.

This was a technique to change the world, to rewrite its foundation. It was the true expertise of Fialart, who would later be known as a reformer in the history of magic, creating a turning point.

It was a scene that made one doubt their eyes. The magic block, the magic sword, was being embedded into Rugis's body. The magic, maintaining the shape of the sword, was transforming into the same existence as Rugis. Rugis was becoming the sword, and the sword was becoming Rugis. Once this happened, the sword could not help but recognize its own deficiency and the need for repair. Thus, the sword immediately began to circulate its abundant magic throughout the body.

The effect was remarkable. Magic covered and circulated throughout Rugis's body. The body, which should not have been able to hold magic, now embraced it as a friend, repairing the burned and deteriorated skin and body.

Fialart, with her eyes wide open, watched Rugis with a blissful expression, as if to say, "I forged this body."

However, her mental strength had already exceeded its limits and was about to be exhausted. Although her gaze was fixed on Rugis, it was becoming difficult to see, and sweat was covering her entire body.

When she saw the last finger fully repaired, Fialart collapsed onto Rugis and fainted.

*

"Are you not going to stop her?"

Celia, with her lips pursed in disgust, muttered to Helt Stanley, who stood beside her and sighed.

"If I tried to stop her, you would stop me. Of course, if she were risking her life, I would pull the sword out to stop her."

Helt paused occasionally as if choosing his words carefully and continued.

"Besides, I think this is a good opportunity. Fialart was strong-willed but lacked confidence. For her sake, I don't think we should stop her now. I'm not as overprotective as you think."

Helt's words made Celia's silver hair tremble.

So that's the man's kindness and correctness, she thought, crossing her arms and frowning. She had several questions in her heart, but she didn't want to voice them. Something told her that making Helt speak would not lead to a good result.

"But you, you don't seem to get along with him. He's the kind of person who contradicts your sense of right and wrong."

Celia pointed at Rugis with her chin, and Helt, running his fingers along his cheek, replied.

"I'm not sure yet. It could go either way. He's a mysterious person. But..."

I'm interested. Celia felt a slight chill run down her spine at these words, though she couldn't grasp the reason.