"Hm? …Right. If a doctor doesn't even know what's going on with the patient, that really is improper."
Alfia, who was equally at a loss for how to handle their current situation, accepted Xien's suggestion. When it came to her closest family, she had never been stingy with words.
"My younger sister—her name is Metaria. Like me, she was a member of the Hera Familia."
"But unlike me… she's far more frail. Much more fragile. There were times she couldn't even step out of her room."
"And beyond that—she's ordinary to the point of being pathetic. Clumsy beyond belief. A once-in-history level of butterfingers. She has not the slightest talent to be an adventurer."
Xien nearly choked.
Was it really necessary to describe your own sister like that?
If he didn't know better, he'd think the two of them had some deep blood feud.
He could only offer a careful protest.
"Isn't that… a bit much?"
"No." Alfia's voice was flat. "It's the truth."
"If you want the reason—then it's because while we were still in our mother's womb, I stole what should have been her talent as well."
She lifted her hands slightly, staring at them as if they were evidence of a crime.
"This body—this despicable thing—took two people's worth of potential."
"So everything that happened to her… is my original sin."
"If I'm feared as a monster of talent, then that's only natural."
The words were calm, but the fixation behind them was heavy—an obsession, a heart-devil that had lived with her for years.
Xien couldn't easily judge that.
Medically, he did recognize the pattern. It was rare, but not unheard of—a phenomenon in his previous life called twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome.
An imbalance in placental blood-vessel connections could cause one fetus (the recipient) to draw blood improperly from the other (the donor). A random, passive accident—unpreventable, no one's fault.
By logic, Alfia had no reason to blame herself.
But humans weren't built out of logic. Emotion didn't ask for permission.
Alfia's voice continued, quieter now.
"That child was the real leftover—the residue after being drained by her twin."
"And that sister of mine… had only one thing."
"Kindness."
"Even though she could do nothing, she was loved in a way that made no sense. Even our goddess—Hera, who's usually like a nagging old grandmother—was secretly doing everything she could to prolong Metaria's life."
"She takes the warmth she receives from others… and returns it to them."
"That's how that ordinary girl survives."
Then, at last—
Alfia smiled.
Not the smile of the "strongest," not the smile of a witch who stood above Orario—
But the smile of an elder sister.
"So I love her," she said softly. "My simple, gentle little sister."
Xien felt a faint ache in his chest at the expression on her face. It was tenderness mixed with pain—like a wound that never fully closed.
He asked the next question naturally.
"So the reason she left Orario… was because her condition worsened?"
"No."
Part of the answer, yes.
But Alfia's tone sharpened.
"The larger reason… is that she was pregnant."
Xien's mind went blank.
Pregnant?
That fragile—barely surviving—girl?
Someone… did that?
A cold disbelief crawled up his spine.
He murmured instinctively, as if saying the words out loud might make them less real.
"A girl that weak… carrying a child…"
"Exactly." Alfia's jaw tightened. "It was a suicidal situation."
"The only reason she lived was because she had an obsession—an absolute, irrational determination to bring her flesh and blood into this world."
The way Alfia spoke—through clenched teeth—made the target of her hatred obvious.
Whoever the father was, he was the person she wanted to erase from existence.
And Xien could guess why she hadn't.
There was only one reason strong enough to stop Alfia from acting:
Metaria herself had forbidden it.
Which made it even more absurd.
What—was it love?
What kind of love looked like this?
Then Alfia's voice changed again, the edge giving way to something raw.
"Xien."
"Can you really make her better?"
There it was.
Not a question.
A plea.
Reality had beaten even Alfia into uncertainty. She had crawled out of her own nightmare once—but Metaria's situation was far more precarious.
Hope was a luxury she couldn't afford.
And yet she still wanted it.
Xien's gaze softened. He felt sorry for her.
At the same time, he couldn't help admiring the Guild's information control—Alfia still didn't know what Xien could truly do. Even a person like her hadn't heard that he could drag someone back from the edge of death.
He answered without hesitation.
"Teacher."
"Trust me the way I trust you."
"As long as it's someone I want to save—then even if they're already in the underworld, I'll pull them back."
His eyes were steady, filled with absolute certainty.
Someone could call him weak in battle.
But no one had the right to doubt him as a Wayfarer of Abundance.
Metaria was under his protection now.
Even Death would have to step aside.
Alfia's breath caught.
For a moment, she looked like she'd heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
"Ah… I believe you," she whispered.
"My disciple… truly."
"The fact that you exist—standing in front of me like this…"
"It really is… wonderful."
Something inside her loosened—something that had been bound tight for too long.
If he could do this…
Then not only her life, but her only remaining wish—
She would entrust it all to him.
The thought softened her body without her noticing, and even the awkward closeness between them became easier to bear.
Xien didn't know what decision she'd just made.
He only spoke the truth he lived by.
"To be entrusted with your expectation is my honor."
"The meaning of my abundance… is to cut off despair."
"To grant a second chance to lives worthy of being celebrated."
"So—feel the joy of life."
"That is an apothecary's mercy."
"And it is also my wish."
Alfia's fingers lifted—almost unconsciously—and she gently patted his head.
"…That may be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," she said quietly.
"Feel the joy of life… Yes."
"I will."
With that, Xien finally had the space to notice the world around them.
Once he'd adjusted to the strange sensation of riding a living creature through open sky, he had to admit—
It was exhilarating.
Not like an airplane, where the ground was reduced to an abstract patchwork.
From this height, the world was still vivid.
With his current eyesight, he could make out individual fruits in treetops—
And—
He narrowed his gaze.
A moving cluster in the forest below.
A procession.
A swarm-like advance.
"…Monsters?"
"Teacher, down there—"
"Mm." Alfia's voice came from behind him. "Those are monsters."
"But I don't recognize them. They're not dungeon-spawn."
Xien blinked.
Even Alfia hadn't seen them before?
That was ridiculous.
Alfia continued calmly.
"I haven't seen them, but their presence isn't strong."
"Go."
"As an adventurer, if you've encountered monsters, you don't ignore them."
"…Yes," Xien answered, forcing a wry smile he couldn't show her.
His body, however, moved without hesitation.
He waited for the wyvern to dip to its lowest point over an open plain—
Then jumped.
It was still a hundred meters at least.
He wouldn't die from the fall with his physique.
But being smashed into heavy injury right before a fight would be stupid.
So this wasn't recklessness.
It was calculation.
He twisted his body in midair, head down, feet up, right hand stretching forward.
And he began to chant.
"Heart of molten veins, beat of the earth's crust—
Breathe sulfur, let wrath be the fuse;
Let the star-river pour down and burn all away…"
A magic circle flared beneath his palm.
Fire gathered.
In less than a second, a deep crimson sphere—over two meters across—formed in front of him, dense enough to feel like a miniature sun.
Below, monsters clustered together.
At thirty or forty meters from the ground, Xien released the spell.
The huge fireball shot downward—
And the recoil kicked back into him, shaving off part of his falling momentum.
The monsters didn't react at all, like mindless puppets.
Then they could be burned.
The explosion bloomed—an effective radius of more than twenty meters—an expanding sphere of red-orange annihilation.
A portion of the swarm evaporated on contact.
The shockwave rose.
Xien let it help him, using the upward force to further bleed off speed.
By the time the firelight faded, he landed cleanly in the blast center.
The ground was scorched into blackened earth.
Fragments of magic stones glittered faintly among the ash.
But there was no time to admire the result.
From all directions, more monsters surged toward him.
Now he could see them clearly.
They were scorpion-like creatures, purple-black all over, with tails that gleamed with cold, poisonous menace.
"…This kind of monster…"
Xien felt a flicker of recognition, but pushed it aside.
Priority one: eliminate them.
He drew his sword.
His breath deepened.
Sun Breathing—maximum output.
After days of relentless training, he'd refined the continuous-breathing discipline, making every inhalation more efficient, every circulation smoother.
Keeping the technique running at all times had been slowly reinforcing his body.
And now his forms flowed more naturally than ever.
A red light flashed in his pupils.
His exhale sparked like embers.
Power gathered.
Deep crimson flames crawled along the blade.
At the same time, he fed life-force through his body—his own crude technique of short-term physical reinforcement.
He became a bow drawn to its limit.
The monsters leapt together, trying to drown him in a tidal wave of bodies—
Perfect.
The moment arrived.
Then—
Fight.
"Sun Breathing—First Form: Circular Dance!"
"Second Form: Clear Blue Sky!"
His slashes were smooth, optimal, merciless.
Like a hunter who already knew every angle of the kill.
His blade carved arcs like the outline of a sun—pure solar flame cutting through chitin and flesh.
"Eleventh Form—Sun Halo Dragon Head Dance!"
The sequence kept linking, seamless.
And then—
"Thirteenth Form—"
"Ever-Radiant Sun Wheel!"
Where the sword passed, light followed.
Every monster touched by that brilliance turned to ash, leaving only a carpet of magic stones behind.
They were Level 3 monsters—dangerous, especially in numbers. Even a full team would struggle against a swarm like this.
But they had met Xien.
And against group fights, the one thing you feared most was stamina.
Xien didn't have that weakness.
Their shells were hard, yes—
But against a blade wrapped in searing heat, they tore like paper.
And his sharpened awareness let him find weak points with frightening ease.
His "flow" warned him before any ambush could land.
He didn't even need Transparent World.
He didn't need One Thought: God and Demon either.
Against enemies with simplistic attack patterns, he simply harvested experience.
He even used the opportunity to practice his newly learned combat casting.
Small firebursts.
Sudden vines.
Every technique layered on top of his swordwork, turning the battle into a clean, brutal sweep.
Ten minutes later—
The last scorpion fell under his blade.
A healer had wiped out the swarm alone.
High above, the wyvern circled until Xien's area was secure.
Then, under Alfia's control, it descended.
Xien scanned the surroundings once more—no stray fires, no spreading blaze, no danger left in the grassland.
Only then did he sheath his sword and walk toward where the wyvern landed.
Alfia's gaze swept the battlefield.
"Not bad," she said. "You know how to use your advantages."
"That's something every adventurer must master."
"It seems you have talent in this area."
"Thank you for the praise, Teacher!"
Xien's heart jumped despite himself.
Being acknowledged by Alfia was rare—and it hit harder than he expected.
"Enough." Alfia turned her eyes forward. "Let's go."
"We've done what we can."
"Yes."
Before he realized it, they were close to their destination.
A remote mountain village—isolated, cut off from the world.
The wyvern didn't fly directly into the village. It was a matter of respect.
They landed instead at a guard post a few hundred meters away, entrusted the wyvern there, and proceeded on foot.
"There's a reclusive elder here," Alfia explained. "A hidden master of medicine."
"Metaria has been recuperating under her care."
"In the original plan, only here—only with that elder's help—could she safely give birth."
"Afterward, she stayed to heal."
"And now…"
Her voice dipped.
Now she was…
Xien nodded. "I understand."
Soon, they reached the village entrance.
It was peaceful. Leisurely.
What stood out, though, were the structures along the dirt road—small shrine-like enclosures.
Inside each, instead of statues, were enormous black scales.
Xien recognized them instantly.
Black Dragon scales.
From the strongest monster in this world.
Even a single scale radiated a pressure that made other monsters instinctively avoid the area—as if it were poison, or a curse, or a predator's territory.
And with that ominous protection standing silent by the roadside—
Xien and Alfia stepped into the village.
....
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