We got more sleep this time. By the time we woke, the sun was already climbing toward its peak.
Arwik and I packed our bags, preparing for the return to the Capital. But when I turned and saw the girl, her body wrapped in fresh bandages, I fully grasped the severity of her injuries.
"veyr!"
She called out, flashing a grin that completely disregarded the state she was in.
"We're getting ready to leave,"
I said.
The doctor, who had been lingering near the stairs, crept closer, clearly eavesdropping.
"She might have to stay behind,"
He said flatly.
"In this state, making it to the Capital is impossible."
"Eh, I'll walk it off,"
She scoffed.
She swung her legs over the bed, tried to stand—then immediately wobbled, her body refusing to cooperate.
I caught her before she hit the ground.
The doctor folded his arms.
"See?"
The girl scowled, glancing up at me.
"I can walk, you know."
"Sure you can,"
I muttered.
She huffed.
"Then just let me—"
I adjusted my grip, hoisting her up before she could finish that sentence.
She froze.
"...This is humiliating."
I sighed.
"I guess I could carry you back…"
I rubbed the back of my neck, already dreading the ten-hour trek.
The doctor stared at me like I was the biggest idiot he'd ever met.
"You do realize it's a ten-hour walk, right?"
"It's good body training,"
I shrugged.
"Still feels like my body can't fully keep up with my movements."
The doctor exhaled through his nose, a long, suffering sound.
"I just can't with you mercenaries… Fine. Not like I can stop you."
He turned and walked off.
The steward handed us our pay and saw us out.
With the girl secured on my back, we set out for the Capital.
Arwik groaned, adjusting the weight of the bags he was now stuck carrying.
"Alright, hold on,"
He grumbled.
"Why do I have to haul all our gear while you get to carry the pretty girl?"
I didn't answer.
A moment passed. Then, he spoke again.
"Sooo… those healing powers of yours. How do they work? They seem mighty efficient."
I glanced at him.
"I don't really know. They seem to have a mind of their own… though now I think I'm getting the hang of it."
A voice from behind my head cut in.
"What healing powers?"
I blinked. Right. She had been unconscious.
I hesitated before answering.
"It's… complicated."
And then, for the next stretch of road, I explained. Not everything. Not the way my skull had mended around a blade or how my body had stitched itself back together in ways that shouldn't be possible.
Just enough to satisfy her curiosity.
"So, it's like that thing that happened while you were training?"
She asked.
"Yeah,"
I said after a pause.
"...I guess so."
Arwik hummed, shifting the weight of the gear on his back.
"You should test it out more. See how much you can take before it stops working."
I shot him a look.
"You volunteering to cut me up?"
He laughed.
"Hell no. But you have to admit, whatever's happening to you… it ain't normal."
The girl sighed against my back.
"Nothing about veyr has been normal since we met him. At this point, I'd be more surprised if he wasn't some kind of freak."
"Thanks,"
I muttered.
"Anytime."
We kept moving, passing through long stretches of quiet woodland. The sun drifted westward, and the distant silhouette of the Capital finally came into view.
As we drew closer, the roads became busier—merchants hauling carts, travelers making their way toward the city gates. The presence of the MRC was stronger here, armored mercenaries patrolling the roads, checking papers, keeping the peace.
By the time we reached the gate, the guards barely glanced at us before waving us through.
"We made it,"
Arwik sighed, rolling his shoulders.
"Next stop, the guild hall. I could use a drink… and a proper bed."
I glanced over my shoulder at the girl. Her breathing had slowed, her body limp—either asleep or pretending to be.
"We'll drop her off first,"
I said.
Arwik stretched.
"Yeah, yeah. But after that, we're celebrating. I'm getting at least three drinks in me before the night's over."
I didn't argue.
I had a feeling I was going to need one, too.
We dropped the girl off at the inn near the MRC building—she was in no state to drink. Then, Arwik and I made our way to MRC.
As we entered, the man behind the counter glanced at me, then shuffled through his papers.
"Y-you must be veyr!"
I stopped.
"Yeah… why?"
"Sir Denis is here. He wants to see you."
"Who's Denis?"
The man looked at me like I had just asked what a sword was.
"Sir Denis. The 6th Killer of MRC. Who doesn't know of him?"
Killer, huh. I guess the steward's letter got here fast. Probably sent it by bird.
Arwik stared at me, jaw slack.
"Sir Denis asked to see… us?"
A courtier escorted us to a room. As we entered, a powerful aura pressed against us. Sir Denis stood there, speaking to a shorter man.
He turned, a smile creeping onto his face.
"Ah, you must be veyr!"
He gestured toward the seats near his desk.
"I heard you took care of that crooked bastard."
"…"
"That's a tough stain to clean out. Almost killed me in my younger days."
"It almost killed us too."
Indifference laced my words.
Denis chuckled.
"I like your style. No bullshit, straight to the point."
His expression sharpened.
"Speaking of which, I brought you here to give you your proper rank."
He stood and motioned for me to follow. We entered a massive training hall.
Denis took a calm stance, a massive sword resting in his hand.
"I'll assess your combat prowess myself. Come at me with everything you've got."
I lunged first, sword infused with aura. A flurry of strikes—each one deflected with ease. He hardly moved, just shifting his stance, his blade meeting mine at the perfect angles.
"Oh? An aura user. You are indeed a strong individual,"
Denis mused, unfazed.
Then he moved.
A blur of steel—his sword arced toward me, heavy and precise. I barely had time to parry, the sheer force numbing my arms. He struck again, this time lower. I dodged, rolling to the side, only for him to step forward, blade already coming down.
Fast. Too fast for a man his size.
I raised my sword, barely redirecting the blow, but the impact sent me skidding backward.
Denis smirked.
"You're reactive. That's good. But how do you handle overwhelming force?"
I barely had time to register the question before he launched himself at me, his next strike aiming to cleave me in two. I had to make a choice.
I stepped into the arc of his blade, letting it lodge into my shoulder.
Denis' eyes widened in shock—his stance faltered for half a second.
And that was all I needed.
Ignoring the burning pain, I twisted my body and struck him in the flank with the flat of my sword.
Denis staggered back, eyes narrowing.
"Why would you do that?! This is a friendly duel!"
Pain screamed through my shoulder, the deep wound slowly knitting itself back together—agonizing, like raw nerves being sewn shut with fire.
Denis exhaled, stepping back, staring at my wound.
"Man, I've never seen anything like this… well played."
His gaze lifted to my face.
"Judging from your expression, that must be painful…"
I rolled my shoulder, wincing as the last remnants of the wound sealed shut.
"A bit."
Denis huffed a laugh, shaking his head.
"You got good pain tolerance."
He sheathed his sword.
"Alright, I've seen enough. Follow me."
I fell into step behind him, Arwik trailing close behind.
Denis led us to a side room filled with shelves of documents and stacks of metal plates—MRC IDs. He grabbed one from a pile, then pulled out a small engraving tool.
"You're strong,"
He said as he carved my name into the plate.
"But you're not a Killer yet. That title's reserved for the top seven mercenaries in the guild."
He set down the tool and slid the metal plate across the table.
"Welcome to the rank of Hound. One step below Killer, but it means you've got real skill."
I picked up the ID, running my thumb over the engraving.
"With this,"
Denis continued,
"you'll get access to better contracts, better pay. And if you keep improving, maybe one day you'll reach Killer status."
Arwik peered over my shoulder.
"Well, damn. A Hound already?"
Denis smirked.
"You should be proud. Most mercenaries never make it this far."
I slipped the ID into my pocket.
"Thanks."
Denis clapped me on the shoulder, then winced, remembering what just happened in the fight.
"Ah—right. Well, don't go throwing yourself into blades too often. Even with your healing, you'll feel it."
I exhaled through my nose.
"Noted."
Denis stepped back.
"You're dismissed. Go rest up. I have a feeling you'll be getting plenty of work soon."
I nodded and turned to leave, Arwik following close behind.
As we stepped out of the room, he let out a low whistle.
"Hound, huh? Guess I better start watching my back."
I shook my head.
"You were never ahead to begin with."
He scoffed.
"Keep talking, tough guy. Let's see who drinks who under the table tonight."