Recovery

When Richard finally climbed over the walls of the City of the Unsetting Sun and entered the radius of the Eternal Glory formation, he finally heaved a sigh of relief. However, he suddenly sensed something and scooped Beye down from his shoulders and into his arms, rushing into an abandoned building to hide. His aura was completely retracted, and a quick isolation spell completely hid their presence.

A fierce gust suddenly blew through the city, carrying loud roars. A group of Daxdians flew back towards their camps at full speed, obviously dejected at their failure to breach the inner sanctum. Relieved that he had managed to avoid bumping into them, Richard just sat against the wall and laid Beye on his lap, waiting for them to be gone.

Deafening roars quickly rang out from outside the city walls; the enemy legends had finally discovered that their camp had been destroyed. Richard smirked at the thought of them grieving their losses.

All this while, the Daxdian powerhouses had exercised restraint in their attack on the City of the Unsetting Sun. They would sneak into the city with black sorcerers helping block the effects of the Eternal Glory formation, trying to wear away the defending experts. Once the sorcerers were exhausted, they would retreat and take as many of their injured comrades behind as possible. This had accumulated a large number of injured beings recuperating in the camps.

Being the aggressors, the Daxdians had grown used to leading the pace of the battle. They couldn’t afford to commit such great forces for too long a time— the other strongholds would quickly become a threat— but so long as they could sustain the war of attrition the Eternal Glory formation would eventually burn out. It had become a battle of who could afford to be more patient, and so far they had been winning.

It was only now that they realised the Norlanders could retaliate.

Once he was sure the danger had passed, Richard put Beye on his shoulder once more, heading over to Lawrence’s house. The doors were shut tightly, with the old man refusing to come out despite persistent knocking, but sensing that Lawrence’s aura was pretty stable Richard just kicked the door open and walked in to find the former saint runemaster trembling under a blanket on his bed.

“Get up, you old geezer, there’s an emergency!” Richard said with a roll of his eyes.

Hearing the voice, Lawrence poked his head out from underneath the blanket, “Is it Beye again?”

“Who else?” Richard asked with a sigh. Beye could have just retreated once he was done cleaning up below, but she chose to flirt with death at the very last moment. Daxdians had great vitality and could heal from even serious wounds in a few days, but she had to go to Lawrence to get patched up every time. He now understood why the old man always grew violently angry.

Lawrence started swearing, but still prepared all the equipment for the surgery in a flash. Having Richard lay her on the table, he washed her body with a few buckets of magically created water before starting on the wounds.

“Will she be alright?” Richard couldn’t help but ask, “Come look at my wounds when she’s done.”

“Get lost! You heal as fast as the Daxdians, why should I help you? Don’t you always say you’ve learnt half my arts, then treat yourself! You managed to carry her back, stop pretending!” Lawrence continued with the surgery.

Richard shrugged, grabbing the spare tools and undressing before he washed the bloodstains and treated his own injuries. However, a gaping wound on his chest immediately opened up the moment he relaxed. Half a metre long and so deep it revealed damaged organs, the cut spurted blood the moment he took a deep breath.

“Slow down, kid! Are you trying to kill yourself?!”

Richard immediately slowed his breathing to calm his nerves, checking the injury before considering various ways of treating it. Once he decided on one, he started work.

Wounds from the Daxdians were only as bad as they were because of the chaotic energy that stuck to them. This dirty black power was deadly as poison to Norlanders, and forced them to cut off the affected flesh if they wished to heal properly. Even then some of the energy would remain, and could only be expelled by powerful life force.

It was hard to describe the feeling of cutting one’s own organs. No matter how resolute he was, Richard still felt a little nervous. Thankfully, that didn’t translate into any instability with his hands. He quickly calmed down after the first few cuts, able to examine his wound more thoroughly as though he was treating someone else.

As the blackened flesh was removed and the noxious gas dispelled, he watched his flesh slowly wriggle as it started to patch up the wound. Relieved at the sight, he sealed the wound with a beastskin bandage and headed over to look at how Lawrence was doing.

Lawrence put down his own tools, “Not bad, kid. Carry a kit with you wherever you go, you never know when it’ll save your life. Don’t count on the clergy for help, they’re never there when you need them. Just puppets of their gods, what will you do if you offend the ones they worship? Even if they want to, the clerics won’t be able to treat you.”

Richard immediately thought of Flowsand at the old man’s nagging, feeling defiant, “I can still look to the Church of the Eternal Dragon for—”

“The old dragon is a god too, isn’t he? How can you be sure you’ll never cross him?”

Richard felt at a loss for words. He had made so many offerings that he was already a Timewalker, even paying off Flowsand’s debts, how could he possibly offend the Eternal Dragon? So long as he had a pen in his hands, blessings would never be far away. However, the box of unused offerings spoke volumes of how obstinate Lawrence was. He knew there was no way to convince the man otherwise when he wouldn’t even take the gamble that could extend his own life.

Looking at Beye breathing steadily in deep sleep, be it because of the medicine or just exhaustion, he chose not to comment further.

However, as he cleaned his hands and turned around to find Richard drinking wine, he went into a rage once more, “What the hell are you doing?!”

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