Chương 190: B3 - Chapter 24: Injuries

The transition from the absolute coldness of the glacial cave to the humid air of the Veretian forest hit Seth like a slap the moment he appeared before the hovering Rift portal. Elena stumbled beside him, her boots sinking into the soft loam. She looked back at the swirling aetheric gate.

"We're outside? We exited both Rifts?"

"Looks like it." Seth made a mental note as he steadied himself. He had assumed the Escape Scroll would only pull them back to the entrance of the sub-Rift, yet it had returned them directly to the physical world itself. It was critical information in case an enemy ever chose to wait outside one. Seth turned his gaze toward the distant spires of Veretia. His squad's upcoming battle wouldn't be as simple as their first one; a battle of two hundred Wielders on each side wasn't one he could win alone.

Just as Seth was about to begin to walk, a soft hum broke the silence of the forest. When he turned, he found Elena staring at a communication orb in her hand. The color had drained from her face, leaving her features excessively pale. Her fingers trembled slightly as the glow of the device flickered.

"What is it?" Seth asked. Elena swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the orb.

"It's Jenna. She—she was badly injured in her fight." The noblewoman paused, breath catching as more text rippled through the glass.

"Brandon is with her at our House's outpost in Veretia. He says she'll be alright, but she probably won't be able to fight in her next fight." Seth's jaw tightened.

"And Devus?" Elena lowered her gaze to the communication orb and quickly sent a reply. A few seconds later, she looked back up.

"He hasn't come out yet." Seth was already turning toward the city.

"Let's go see her." By the time the fortified walls of House Surani's outpost loomed ahead, the sun had begun its slow descent. The guards flanking the entrance stood rigid, clad in armor marked with the noble House's red cross upon the chest. As Elena approached, their eyes flicked to her, and they offered a sharp, synchronized nod. Seth followed half a step behind, drawing lingering, wary glances from both men. Inside, the atmosphere was grim.

Soldiers in dented plate armor leaned against the masonry walls, their white surcoats stained with the dust of the Warfare Rifts and old blood. Elena did not slow for pleasantries and cut left through the main hall before striding up a narrow stone staircase. She and Seth moved down a dimly lit corridor, where the air grew thick with the smell of medicinal herbs and burned flesh. At the end of the hall, a heavy oak door stood ajar. Both of them stepped into the room and immediately felt the weight of several gazes.

Brandon stood near the window, his face etched with a fatigue that made him almost unrecognizable. Beside him stood Elena's father and mother, Leonard and Marissa Surani while a man Seth didn't recognize—his hair a short, graying brown and his lip covered by a thick mustache—stood to the left, his arms crossed over his silver armor. Despite the man's intimidating presence, Seth's focus instantly landed on the bed in the center of the room.

Jenna lay there, her face tight with pain against the bleached linens, while a man in a white robe carefully changed her bandages. She winced each time the fresh cloth touched her skin. Jenna still had all her limbs, yet the wooden splints bound to her left leg made it clear that one had been broken. Two new scars marked her body. The first ran across her cheek, still red and angry, though shallow enough that time would likely soften it. The second was far worse.

It began at the base of her neck, carved a deep line across her sternum, and disappeared beneath the hem of her white gown. It was nearly an inch across in places and crusted with dried blood. Without the intervention of a high-Tier Priest, it would likely remain a permanent reminder of the blade that had nearly claimed her life. Leonard Surani looked up, his eyes landing on his daughter before shifting to Seth, who stood in the doorway. The Surani's face twisted in a mix of contempt and genuine fear.

"You—""Elena! Seth!" Jenna's voice broke through the tension, interrupting the man. Elena didn't wait for her father to finish; she bolted toward the bed and threw her arms around her friend, pulling her into a fierce embrace. Jenna leaned into the warmth for a heartbeat before a sharp hiss escaped her lips. Elena recoiled, her hands raising in the air.

"Sorry." Seth's hands curled into tight fists, and his core began to pulse with a low thrum in his chest. The bestial instinct was asking for retribution—for someone to pay the price for Jenna's injuries. Jenna's eyes moved to Seth, and a faint, weary smirk played on her lips.

"You look like you're ready to rip someone apart."

"I am," Seth answered, the words falling from his lips like shards of ice.

"Seth…" Elena muttered. Leonard Surani shifted his weight as his gaze remained locked onto Seth's. The open hatred that had darkened his features only seconds ago had begun to ebb. It was now replaced by a begrudging recognition of Seth's intent—the look of a soldier acknowledging another ally in the face of a common enemy. Jenna turned her head toward the mustached man, letting out a chuckle.

"I told you he was both fierce and reckless. Far too much to ever make a good soldier." This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The man's stoic expression broke, and a warmth bloomed in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"You were right, little bird."

"Dadddd," Jenna groaned, her face flushing pink despite her pallor.

"Don't call me that in front of people." Brandon let out a short laugh from the window.

"It's not the first time we've heard it, Jenna."

"That doesn't make it any better," she argued, though her father's hand on her shoulder seemed to ground her. She looked back at Elena and Seth, her expression turning serious.

"Anyway, I don't know what Brandon told you in his message, but I'm going to be okay. Every one of these injuries can be healed. It'll just take some time for the aether to knit the bone." Then, a shadow of sorrow crossed her face. She looked at the door, as if expecting someone else to walk through.

"Any news yet from Devus?" Elena looked at the brother. The Guardian shook his head.

"None so far. We haven't gotten any news since his squad stepped into the Warfare Rift." Seth glanced at Elena, then back at Jenna. His core was refusing to calm down inside his chest.

"I'll let you rest," he finally said.

"I need to go meet with my squad. We have our second battle tomorrow." As he turned to leave, Jenna's voice caught him.

"Seth. Please don't try to play the hero in there." Seth looked back over his shoulder.

"Don't worry. I'll be alright." His gaze shifted one last time to Leonard Surani, lingering on the man with a chilling intensity.

"While some people make sure that person stops crippling this country, I'll try to save as many lives as I can." The eyes of Leonard, his wife, and Jenna's father widened at the thinly veiled meaning behind the words. Seth didn't wait for a response and offered a farewell nod to Elena.

"Be careful." Then he turned and walked out of the room, his boots echoing loudly against the floor. The sun was halfway down the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones as Seth navigated the crowded thoroughfares. He kept his pace steady and headed toward the northern gates and the sprawling training grounds beyond. Professor Reat had sent word that he and several key members of the Champions of Chaos would be absent from the headquarters for the next few days.

They had a meeting with Marcus—something that made it clear to Seth the invisible war for Kastal's independence had started. At least things are moving, Seth thought, fingers brushing his pouch. He had to trust them to handle the politics. His job was simpler, though not any easier: he had to survive the next four months of the Iron phase of the war and ensure his squad did the same.

As the heavy, iron-reinforced city gates came into view, he spotted a familiar silhouette leaning against the bricks of a merchant's warehouse. Marine. The woman's reinforced leather equipment clung tightly to her form, the dark material emphasizing every curve. Her brown hair caught the golden hour light and framed the porcelain-perfect smile that would likely fool hundreds of men.

Seth hadn't bought the act when they'd first met, and after the past months, the sweetness of her expression now tasted even more like ash.

"Hey, Seth." Her voice had a melodious lilt that cut through the noise of passing wagons, yet Seth didn't slow down. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, and he walked past her as if she were nothing more than a part of the masonry. The silence lasted only a heartbeat before he heard the rhythmic click of her boots as she pushed herself off the wall and broke into a brisk stride to catch up. In no time, she fell into step beside him with an infuriating confidence.

"Oh, come on, Seth." She pouted, though the playfulness in her eyes remained there.

"It's mean to ignore me."

"And it's worse to run to your grandfather, tell him about me, and force me into a deal," Seth retorted coldly. Marine let out a laugh and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, I only asked him to place you in my squad, that's all. He's the one who put the puzzle pieces together and realized you were hiding things." Her smile widened.

"It's hardly my fault you have so many secrets." Seth glanced at the civilians and soldiers weaving past them, their faces filled by the indifference of the evening rush.

"And you really expect me to believe you asked him that for my own safety? Not just so I could protect your ass?" Marine tilted her head, and a playful light flashed in her eyes.

"Mmm, so you think my ass deserves to be protected?"

"Oh, cut the bullshit," Seth snapped.

"You think this is funny? You think people dying for a ridiculous cause is something to joke about while you play your little games?" Marine's face shifted instantly. The flirtatious façade shattered, replaced by a cold seriousness.

"Fighting for your country isn't a 'ridiculous cause,' Seth."

"For most of them it is," Seth countered, pointing at the several squads training across the plain ahead.

"Odds are they will die in those Rifts, and even if they somehow survive, they'll get absolutely nothing out of it."

"But we, as a nation, have everything to win," Marine answered, her voice tight.

"People will use you know what as soon as the Iron phase of the war concludes. Even if the King and his counselors decide to surrender during the Silver phase, the nation will still have a secure future. One where we can stand on our own against other nations." Seth glanced at her.

"How can you be so sure of that?" Marine slowed her pace, and her gaze darted left and right to confirm the nearest pedestrians were well out of earshot.

"Those things can produce Platinum-tier Wielders, given enough time," she whispered.

"That kind of power will change everything." Seth let out a weary sigh.

"You are so naïve. How are you sure people won't simply hunt you down to kill you or the others and harvest them from your chest?" Marine's eyes widened, her stride faltering for a second.

"What?"

"Your grandfather didn't tell you?" Seth asked with a scoff.

"You don't own it. It can be taken from your dead body. The moment you use one of those, you become a target for the entire world for the rest of your life." Marine blinked twice, the smile slipping from her lips. Her brows drew together, and for the first time since Seth had met her, the smooth confidence she wore like armor cracked.

"When you are a nation as weak as Kastal," he continued, "no one will shield the bearers once the one-year post-war protection from NEVAK expires. You'll be a walking treasure for anyone in the region who isn't held down by morals." Marine's mouth twisted to the side, her fingers nervously brushing the leather of her bracers.

"The Marshal... the Marshal must have a plan for that."

"I hope for your sake that he does," Seth said. She let out a shaky breath.

"What makes you think I'll even get one? There are better options than me."

"Stop trembling," Seth retorted.

"You might like toying with others' lives for fun, but I'm not like you. I won't use it against you. You can rest at ease."

"I didn't—" Marine began before stopping abruptly. Something seemed to flash behind her eyes, likely the memory of her blackmailing him during his first year to throw the academy tournament. Even if she had told the truth about her grandfather discovering his secrets on his own, she had still earned every ounce of Seth's hostility. Her shoulders dipped.

"I'm sorry." Seth cut her a brief glance. The regret on her face looked too similar to one of her performances for him to trust it.

"A bit late for that." They reached the edge of the training fields at nearly the same moment—and stopped. Seth's squad was right there ahead, chests heaving, uniforms dark with sweat as if they had just endured hours of relentless drills. Henry and Eddin held the front line, shoulders squared and jaws tight, facing three people with the Oskon Academy's uniform.

A severe-looking woman and man stood on both sides of a young man with slicked-back black hair and a tailored uniform so pristine it looked untouched by dust or effort. Seth recognized him immediately. Jaxar, the grandson of Kastal's King. And from the way he stood there, he had come with a peaceful intent.