Chapter Fifty-Seven: Hmm...the Carriage

“Swish!”
Seeing a figure burst out from the shrubs, Veil instinctively shot the three blades of wind beside him toward the figure. But just at that moment, the fat man Charles suddenly shrieked, “Stop! It's Isth!”

“What!?”
Veil was stunned and immediately redirected the three blades of wind elsewhere. Still, everything had happened so abruptly that although Veil managed to deflect the first two, the last blade was too late to change course.

“Clang!”
In that split second, a burst of battle energy exploded from Isth’s arm, clashing fiercely with Veil’s wind blade. If it had been before, Isth could easily have shattered Veil’s attack, but now Isth was utterly spent—his body covered in wounds, barely able to muster even a little battle energy. As the energies collided, Isth—a second-tier Grand Soulmaster—was sent flying by Veil, a fourth-tier Mage.

“Damn…”
Veil cursed inwardly and rushed forward to check. Isth looked as if he’d been hauled out of a pool of blood; his entire body was drenched in crimson, wounds of all sizes shocking to behold. Most horrifying was a gash that ran from his ribs to his throat, gushing blood relentlessly. Though his warrior’s armor covered him, Veil could clearly see the pale bones within the wound.

Faced with such severe injuries, Veil couldn’t help but frown. Charles staggered over, and upon seeing Isth’s wounds, froze in place.

“Hurry! Get him to the Imperial City!”
The fat on Charles’s face quivered with agitation, his eyes bloodshot as he grabbed Veil’s collar. “What are you standing around for? Get moving!”

“S...sir...it’s already too late…”
Isth, lying on the ground, could scarcely speak a word without coughing up blood, his breath ragged, voice broken as he addressed Charles.

“Nonsense!”
Charles cursed, dropping to his knees to wipe the blood from Isth’s mouth with his pudgy hands. “I’m not dead yet, so what are you rushing for? If you want to die, wait your turn after me!”

As he spoke, Charles grabbed Isth’s collar, trying to haul him up by force. At that moment, Veil seized Charles’s arm. “Wait, I can save him!”

“Get out of the way! I can... huh? What did you say? Repeat that!”
Charles had been about to shake Veil off, but caught himself halfway, grabbing Veil’s hand in excitement.

“If you want him dead, just keep getting in my way.”
Veil twisted his arm, inwardly marveling at the fat man’s strength.

“Cough, cough…”
Charles quickly let go, coughing awkwardly. Veil ignored him, focusing entirely on Isth.

“It’s hard to believe anyone could injure you so badly…”
Veil commented calmly, pulling out a magic wand from his cloak. He muttered a few words, and a pure, sun-like light appeared, descending like fine wood shavings upon Isth’s wounds.

“There are... many who could... do this to me... it’s not... surprising…”
Isth replied with difficulty, but he could distinctly feel an unfamiliar energy slowly seep into him. The gentle, sacred sensation seemed to elevate his spirit, allowing him to relax his long-tensed nerves. His breathing grew smoother.

Isth’s wounds were far too severe, especially the horrifying gash across his chest. Water magic was useless; Veil had no choice but to use light magic to heal him.

Isth’s armor was shattered, revealing his ghastly wounds. Torn flesh, bathed in golden light, began to regenerate, new tissue sprouting rapidly. The bleeding stopped, and within moments, most wounds had closed.

It all seemed effortless, but for Veil the cost in magical energy was enormous. In just a short time, sweat drenched his entire body, his face pale.

“Hey, kid…”
Charles hesitated.

“What is it?”
Veil glanced at Charles, waving his wand to transform the golden light into a water-blue glow. He continued healing Isth, now cleansing his wounds of blood and grime.

“Thank you…”
Charles watched as Isth’s color steadily improved and turned to Veil.

“If you truly want to thank me, make it something tangible.”

Veil replied coolly, and the water-blue light covering Isth gradually faded. “I’m out of magic. We’ll have to take him back to the Imperial City for further treatment.”

“Alright!”
Charles nodded, and together he and Veil helped Isth to his feet.

“Sir, those... assassins have... all been eliminated. Returning... to the Imperial City... shouldn’t be a problem.”
Isth still spoke in broken phrases, but his weakness had noticeably abated.

“What about that fourth-tier Grand Soulmaster?”
Veil pressed, still uneasy.

“Killed him…”
Isth answered lightly, as if it were nothing. A second-tier Grand Soulmaster slaying a fourth-tier? What kind of feat was that?

Charles took the news calmly, as if it were only natural, while Veil merely paused, asking no further questions.

Supporting Isth, Veil and Charles made their way through a stretch of shrubs, finally returning to the road to the Imperial City. Just then, a wagon approached from behind. Well... if it could be called a wagon—a skeletal, limping horse that looked ready to collapse at any moment, hauling a plank fitted with two mismatched wheels.

“Hey, brat, what is that thing?”
“It’s a wagon, I suppose…”

“Hmm... a wagon…”