[Salamander Kill Count +1]!
[Salamander Kill Count +1]!
Orum paid no attention to the panel. He looked down at Ristina in his arms.
Her face had grown even paler, and her breathing was weaker than before.
Her once cherry red lips had lost all color, as thin and pale as translucent paper.
"Damn it, I need to move faster."
Orum gritted his teeth, held Ristina tighter, and strode forward deeper into the forest.
His steps were more urgent than before, almost a full sprint through the trees.
The shadows of the trees fell away behind him in a blur, dissolving into hazy afterimages.
Moonlight danced between the treetops, like silver spirits flitting among the branches.
The fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet, the sound unusually crisp in the silent forest.
After another ten minutes or so, Orum suddenly felt Ristina stir in his arms.
Her body was frighteningly hot, as if he were holding a burning piece of iron.
Her temperature was still rising.
This kind of body heat had already exceeded what a human could endure.
If this continued, the heat would burn out Ristina's brain.
"Nnngh..."
Ristina let out a faint moan.
Her eyes slowly opened a crack, her hazy gaze struggling to focus on Orum's face.
Her ice blue eyes were unfocused, like a candle flame about to go out.
"Lord Orum..."
Her voice was so weak it was almost inaudible, each word costing her enormous effort.
"Put me down... please... put me down..."
Orum's brow furrowed, but his pace did not falter for even a moment as he continued rushing through the forest.
"Put you down? What are you talking about?"
His tone carried an unquestionable firmness.
They were almost at the monastery. Why would he put her down now?
"I... I'm going to die..."
Tears welled up in the corners of Ristina's eyes, mixing with her sweat as they slid down.
The tears left damp trails on her pale cheeks, glistening like pearls.
"I can feel it... my life slipping away..."
"Please... help me one last time..."
"Under the moonlight, in this forest, take my maidenhood... and then... let me die..."
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum, but every word reached Orum's ears with perfect clarity.
"My mother told me..."
Her voice grew weaker and weaker, each word seeming to drain the last of her strength.
"If a woman offers herself completely on a moonlit night, her soul can ascend to the realm of the Moon Knights... there... I could see my mother..."
She raised her eyes to the moon visible through the gap in the canopy.
The silver moon hung silently in the night sky, casting down its cold, clear light.
The moonlight fell across Ristina's pale cheeks, making her look like a ghost on the verge of fading away.
"Please... Lord Orum..."
Ristina's voice broke into a sorrowful sob, tears blurring her vision.
"I don't want to die incomplete... I want to see my mother... I miss her so much..."
Her voice carried a deep longing and despair.
Like a lost child crying out for her mother's embrace.
Moonlight filtered down through the gaps in the canopy in mottled patches.
Orum carried Ristina onward, his face a mixture of helplessness and disbelief.
What in the world was this?
He had never imagined that Ristina, on the verge of death, would make such an absurd request.
Offering herself under the moon, seeing her mother.
It was nothing but delirious nonsense brought on by a raging fever.
Orum took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the tangle of emotions in his chest.
He looked down at the tearful half-elf maid in his arms, his voice softening in a way that was rare for him.
"Listen to me, Ristina."
His voice was low and steady, like a lighthouse in the dark of night.
"Those traditions, those rituals you're talking about, none of that matters."
A flicker of confusion crossed Ristina's hazy eyes.
Tears continued to slide down her pale cheeks.
She parted her cracked lips, trying to protest.
"No... my mother said..."
"What matters is this."
Orum cut her off, his eyes turning resolute, like tempered steel.
"You are going to live. This isn't a request. It's an order."
Ristina's body trembled slightly.
She could feel the authority in Orum's voice.
It was the absolute authority of a master over a servant.
Orum took a deep breath, sensing the current flowing within Ristina's body.
It was the magical contract binding her, now stirring awake at the command of his will.
"As your master, I am invoking the magical contract between us."
Orum spoke each word deliberately.
Every syllable struck the air like a nail being driven home.
Carrying an authority that brooked no argument.
"I command you, Ristina, live!"
"Do not die!"
Orum's voice grew heavier, echoing through the silent forest.
"Use everything you have. Draw on every last drop of life force in your body. Fight the illness. Live!"
The moment the words left his mouth.
A blinding blue-green light burst forth from the contract markings on Ristina's neck.
The light was warm and gentle, carrying the breath of life itself.
It flowed into Ristina's body like a tender stream, awakening a greater survival instinct within her.
Ristina's whole body shuddered as she felt a powerful, warm force surge into her.
Like parched earth finally receiving rain, it was the manifestation of Orum's will.
This force worked like a miraculous placebo, rousing the dormant life force within Ristina and stirring her body's most primal will to survive.
The flame of life that had been flickering weak as a thread began to burn again, fed by the catalyzing magic.
It still wavered unsteadily, but at least it was no longer on the verge of going out.
A dozen or so seconds later, Ristina's breathing gradually steadied.
No longer as rapid and shallow as before.
Her chest rose and fell with newfound strength.
Her complexion remained pale, but no longer had the ashen gray tone of the dying.
Orum sensed the feedback returning through the magical contract.
Confirming that Ristina's life force had indeed grown noticeably stronger.
The heavy stone weighing on his heart eased, just slightly.
But he understood clearly that this was only a temporary measure.
The command of the magical contract had merely stirred her will to live and her latent vitality.
It could not truly cure the plague itself.
"There's also the Heart of the Ancient Tree."
Orum thought to himself.
That was the powerful item he had obtained, one capable of infusing life force into a body.
He could use it to sustain Ristina.
His mind worked quickly, laying out the strategy ahead.
For now, he needed to keep her stabilized with sheer life force.
Then get to the monastery as fast as possible, so Ronald could use divine magic to cure the plague.
But Orum also understood a harsh truth.
If Ristina's body could not recover on its own, if it could never truly overcome the plague at its root.
Then no matter how much life force he poured into her, it would all be in vain.
It would be like pouring water into a bucket with a hole in the bottom.
No matter how much you poured in, it would all eventually drain away.
Treating the symptom without curing the disease. In the end, she would still die.
The dark forest path stretched on beneath his feet, moonlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves and scattering silver fragments across the rugged trail ahead, though most of the surroundings remained cloaked in shadow.
The entire dark forest seemed like some monstrous beast baring its claws, reaching out from every direction toward Orum, the atmosphere eerie and oppressive.
Orum's footsteps were firm and forceful, each stride landing solidly, leaving deep imprints in the soft earth.
The trees around him stood like silent giants, swaying faintly in the night wind, rustling softly.
Occasionally the eyes of some nocturnal creature would glint in the darkness, only to vanish quickly under the pressure of Orum's presence.
Time slipped away in the stillness. Orum pressed on tirelessly, and in his arms, Ristina's breathing remained steady as she sank into a deep unconsciousness, her vital signs at least stable for now.
This gave Orum a small measure of relief.
The command of the magical contract had indeed worked. Ristina's will to survive had been forcibly awakened, temporarily holding her condition in check.
Now all he needed was to find the monastery of Lathander and let Ronald heal her.
Finally, after crossing a rock strewn hillside, the view opened up before Orum.
Not far ahead, a solemn and dignified monastery emerged in the moonlight.
The Monastery of Lathander was built against the mountainside, its main structure of gray white stone, crowned with soaring spires and encircled by a ring wall studded with watchtowers.
The monastery's front gate was made of heavy oak, flanked by a morning prayer terrace, its spire set with a radiant emblem of the dawn.
A stone wall encircled the monastery, with a watchtower rising at intervals along its length. No guards were visible, but he could sense watchful eyes tracking him from the shadows.
Orum quickened his pace and soon arrived before the monastery's heavy oak doors.
The gate was shut tight, carved with the sacred emblem of the Lord of Morning Light: a rising sun.
Without hesitation, Orum raised his hand and pounded on the door.
Thud, thud, thud.
The heavy knocking rang out unusually loud in the silence of the night, echoing through the mountains.
A moment later, footsteps sounded from within, someone approaching quickly.
The door did not open. Instead, a wary middle-aged man's voice called out from behind it.
"Halt! State your identity and your purpose, whoever comes calling at this hour!"
The voice was low and stern, carrying the particular gravity of a member of the clergy, muffled slightly through the gap in the door.
Orum took a deep breath and answered in a clear, steady voice.
"My name is Orum. I'm a Mithril rank adventurer, and Ronald's companion!"
"Ronald?"
The voice inside paused, as if searching his memory for the name, his tone still wary.
"Do you have any proof?"
Orum, cradling Ristina in one arm, reached into his coat with the other and pulled out a silver badge.
It was the Mithril rank badge issued by the Adventurers' Guild, gleaming with a metallic sheen in the moonlight.
"I have my Mithril adventurer's badge, as proof."
Orum held the badge up to the gap in the door so the guard inside could see it clearly.
"Please, tell Father Ronald that my companion is gravely ill and needs treatment immediately!"
An eye appeared in the gap of the door, warily studying Orum and the girl in his arms, lingering for a few seconds on the Mithril badge.
The guard fell silent for a moment, seeming to weigh his options.
"Wait here. I'll go find Father Ronald."
Finally, the guard behind the door replied in a low voice, and the eye disappeared from the gap as his footsteps receded.
Orum stood outside the gate, waiting. Ristina remained unconscious in his arms. Though her breathing had steadied, her complexion showed no sign of improving. Her forehead was still frighteningly hot.
Time passed, second by second.
About two or three minutes later, footsteps sounded again from within the monastery.
This time faster than before, accompanied by hushed conversation.
"Are you certain he called himself Orum? Carrying a half-elf girl?"
"The Mithril badge can't be faked."
Click.
The sound of the bolt being drawn back rang out.
The heavy oak door slowly swung open, and orange torchlight spilled out from within, driving back the darkness of the night.
Orum raised his head, expecting to see the familiar rough, bearded face.
In his memory, Ronald was a burly, hairy man with coarse skin and a face full of stubble.
The kind of man who was always loud and boisterous, brimming with warmth, the sort who'd splash wine into his beard while drinking.
But the figure standing in the doorway left Orum utterly stunned.
His pupils widened in shock, his face filled with pure disbelief.
Standing at the door was a brown haired young man who looked no older than fifteen or sixteen.
A head of soft brown hair gleamed with a healthy shine in the torchlight, the strands falling gently across his forehead.
His face could only be described as beautiful.
Well defined yet soft features, skin fine and smooth, glowing faintly in the firelight, radiating the vitality of youth.
He wore the standard white priest's robes of the Lathander order.
Embroidered on the robe was a golden emblem of the dawn, and the young man's entire bearing radiated a gentle, holy air.
Like an angel bathed in morning light.
"Orum?"
The beautiful youth spoke.
His voice was gentle and clear, carrying a steadiness that felt distinctly like Ronald.
But his tone sounded at least fifteen years younger than Orum remembered.
"You... who are you?!"
Orum blurted out, his voice full of shock and confusion.
This was, Ronald's son?!
He'd never heard that old bachelor had a wife!
He took a half step back, holding Ristina tighter.
His eyes wary as he studied the beautiful youth before him.
Seeing Orum's reaction, the youth froze for a moment.
Then a faint, helpless smile crossed his face.
He raised a hand to touch his own smooth chin, a complicated look flashing in his eyes.
"It's me, Orum. It really is me. I'm Ronald."
Ronald's voice remained gentle, but carried a hint of embarrassment.
"I know this is hard to believe. Even I could hardly believe it at first. It felt like some kind of dream."
He took a deep breath, seeming to gather his thoughts.
Ronald's expression turned reverent and focused as he spoke slowly. "It happened a week ago, at night, while I was praying in the chapel to the Lord of Morning Light."
"I prayed the entire night, begging him to grant me greater power, to open the path for me to ascend to the priesthood."
"So that I could heal more of the sick, save more lives."
Ronald's voice carried both excitement and awe. "Then, at the break of dawn, I felt a warm, powerful light envelop my entire body!"
"It was the divine power of the Lord of Morning Light! I lost consciousness right then."
"And when I woke up..."
Ronald looked down at his own hands.
They were slender and pale, the skin smooth as a baby's.
"I had become like this."
"Every wrinkle had vanished. My beard was gone too."
His tone carried a note of disbelief.
"Even the scars and calluses on my body had completely faded away."
"Not only that, my body and spirit had both reached a peak they'd never known before!"
Ronald clenched his fist, feeling the powerful force surging within him.
"Strength, stamina, perception, all of it enhanced!"
"The priests of the monastery told me this was a blessing granted by the Lord of Morning Light."
A reverent light shone in his eyes.
"Restoring me to the very peak of my life, so I could better serve my divine duty."
"This state should last a few months, until I ascend to the priesthood, and then I'll return to how I was before."
Orum's mouth fell open, and he stood there completely stunned.
He looked Ronald up and down, trying to find some trace of the rough, bearded man he remembered in this impossibly young face.
But no matter how he looked at it, the person before him bore no resemblance to the burly, stubble faced man with muscles like ropes that he remembered.
If it weren't for the familiar voice and manner of speaking, Orum would never have believed this was really Ronald.
"How is this even possible?!"
Orum muttered to himself, his voice full of disbelief.
"Divine power can turn someone back into a child? That's absurd!"
His entire worldview had taken a serious blow.
In Orum's understanding, divine magic was powerful, but it had its limits.
Healing wounds and illness, dispelling curses, those he could understand. But turning a man in his thirties back into a fifteen year old boy?
Even if this state was only temporary, it completely overturned everything Orum thought he knew about divine power.
Ronald laughed and shrugged.
"I felt the same way at first, I even thought I was dreaming."
"But it's the truth. The power of the Lord of Morning Light is far beyond what we can imagine."
Ronald raised a hand to touch his smooth chin again, his eyes complicated.
"To be honest, I still haven't fully gotten used to this face."
"Every time I look in a mirror, I feel like I'm looking at someone else."
In Orum's arms, a faint moan from Ristina snapped him back to attention.
"Alright, alright, enough about this!"
Orum shook his head, forcing himself out of his shock.
He looked down at Ristina in his arms, his expression turning urgent.
"Right now, saving her is what matters most!"
Ristina's face remained pale as paper, her forehead frighteningly hot.
Though the magical contract had temporarily stabilized her vital signs, the plague still raged through her body.
Ronald's expression immediately turned serious.
He stepped closer and carefully examined Ristina's condition.
He placed a warm palm gently on her burning forehead, closing his eyes to sense the illness within her.
A moment later, Ronald opened his eyes, his brow furrowed, his expression grave.
"The plague, and it's already gotten severe."
"The toxins have spread through her whole body. Any later and it would have been dangerous."
"Come with me, quickly!"
Ronald turned and strode into the monastery.
Orum followed immediately, and the two of them made their way down a long corridor.
Along the walls hung sacred paintings of Lathander, solemn and dignified in the torchlight.
In the paintings, the deity wore golden robes and held a scepter symbolizing the dawn, his kind face radiating a warm glow.
"This way!"
Ronald moved quickly, his white priest's robes billowing behind him.
They passed the prayer hall, the library, and the priests' quarters, finally arriving at a stone chamber deep within the monastery.
Ronald pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Creak.
The door hinges let out a low groan.
Inside was a room set up specifically for healing.
The chamber was simple and clean, with a stone bed draped in white linen at its center.
A massive emblem of the dawn hung on the wall, its golden sun design glinting in the torchlight.
The air carried the faint scent of herbs, calming and reassuring.
"Put her on the bed."
Ronald instructed, already pulling various sacred items and herbs from the pouch at his waist.
His movements were practiced and professional, clearly the routine of someone who treated patients here often.
Orum carefully laid Ristina down on the stone bed.
Her face was still pale, her breathing steady but faint.
There was no sign of her waking.
Orum could sense that Ristina's life force was slowly slipping away.
If not for the magical contract's forced command sustaining her will to live, she might not have made it this far.
Ronald stood by the bed, arranging the sacred items around Ristina.
There was the emblem of Lathander, purified holy water, warding herbs, and several other sacred objects Orum couldn't name.
Ronald took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began chanting in a low voice.
His voice was ethereal and solemn, like a hymn from the heavens. "In the name of my Lord Lathander, cleanse this body of its filth, let the dawn arrive, let new light be born!"
As the incantation continued, a soft golden light poured from Ronald's hands.
Like the first ray of dawn light, warm and full of vitality.
First circle spell: Minor Restoration!
The light enveloped Ristina, and faint color began to return to her pale skin.
Her burning forehead began to cool, and her breathing grew steadier and stronger.
A few dozen seconds later, the golden light gradually dimmed.
Ronald withdrew his hands, fine beads of sweat on his forehead.
Clearly the casting had drained a considerable amount of his mental energy.
"Haaah..."
Ristina let out a long breath.
The color had returned to her face considerably, and though still weak, she no longer looked as though she were on the verge of death.
A great deal of sweat had soaked through her clothes, drenching them completely.
Ronald turned to Orum, a tired but satisfied smile crossing his face.
"The plague has been cured."
His voice was a little hoarse, but carried a note of satisfaction.
"But she's very weak right now, and needs plenty of rest."
"Change her into clean clothes, and wipe her down with warm water."
Ronald explained the necessary steps in detail.
"Let her sleep well, and she'll be fully recovered by tomorrow."
"Don't worry, she'll be fine."
"Thank you, Ronald."
Orum said sincerely, his voice full of genuine gratitude.
"Don't mention it, we're companions, aren't we?"
"Besides, little Orum saved my life once. I still remember that."
Ronald cut him off with a smile, his eyes warm.
Though his appearance had grown younger, his open, warm hearted personality hadn't changed at all.
"Anyway, it's been a while. How have you been?"
Ronald's tone turned lighter, clearly trying to change the subject.
So as not to disturb the patient's rest, the two of them sat down on chairs by the chamber door and began catching up on everything that had happened.
Orum spoke calmly. "I won the Blazing Sun Tournament."
"Really? That's wonderful!"
Ronald's eyes lit up, a look of pride crossing his face.
"I knew you had it in you!"
He stood up excitedly and clapped Orum on the shoulder.
"Champion of the Blazing Sun Tournament, that's the highest level gladiatorial competition in the entire southern region!"
"You're really going to be famous after this, Orum!"
"I think it's the green skinned goblins who are famous now," Orum said with a wry smile, and went on to tell Ronald everything that had happened recently: the sudden outbreak of the "Green Cloud," the Supreme True God, and everything else.
He also mentioned the matter of White Stone Mansion and the two maids, in passing.
"You're saying they can cook two hundred dishes? Orum, you really struck gold!" Ronald seemed to think of something, and his handsome face suddenly clouded with worry. "Little Orum, now that you have a household, once you have children, you won't want to go adventuring anymore. Our Ice Hawks Company will lose one of its pillars."
"Not at all, adventuring is still my main calling. As for having children, that's still a long way off!" Orum shook his head with a laugh.
Besides, he hadn't noticed the slightest romantic feelings from either Ristina or Carolina toward him this whole time.
Even earlier, when Ristina's fever addled mind had begged him to "give herself" to him, her thoughts had clearly been about returning to the heavens to see her mother, not anything to do with romance or desire.
Perhaps half-elves inherited some of the elven trait of being rather indifferent to such matters.
After that, Orum told him about Felix, Raygore, and the others, as well as Melina's disappearance.
As he listened to Orum's account, the smile faded from Ronald's face.
"Melina's gone missing again? What happened? Is she in danger?"
His voice grew urgent, clearly worried about his companion's safety.
Melina might have had something of an extreme personality, but she was an important Wanderer for the team.
And after adventuring together for so long, watching each other's backs in the dungeon's countless dangers, they had built a deep friendship.
"I don't know. According to Captain Felix, for a while now Melina had been searching for a special werewolf incense to suppress the curse on the night of the full moon."
Orum shook his head, his expression growing heavy as well.
"Captain Felix and Raygore have already headed to the Sow District, hoping to find some trace of her."
"Roen City is chaotic and dangerous right now."
"I just hope she's simply hiding somewhere, and that nothing has happened to her."
The two fell silent for a moment.
The atmosphere grew heavy.
The only sounds in the stone chamber were the crackling of the torch flame and Ristina's steady breathing.
Ronald finally let out a sigh.
"I hope she's safe..."
His voice was low, his eyes filled with worry.
"If you hear anything about her, you have to let me know."
"I will."
Orum nodded.
He knew that even though Ronald was training here at the monastery, his feelings for his companions still ran deep.
If something really had happened to Melina, Ronald would surely find a way to help.
Ronald stood up and straightened his priest's robes.
"You look after her. I still have evening prayers to attend to, so I'll head off now."
He gestured toward Ristina in the chamber.
"If you need anything, just call for me. I'll be in the prayer hall."
"Alright, go on, Ronald."
Orum watched Ronald leave.
Thud.
The heavy wooden door slowly swung shut, letting out a low, muffled sound.
The noise echoed through the chamber for a moment before fading into silence, leaving only Orum and Ristina alone in the room.
The air in the stone chamber grew quiet and intimate.
Orum looked at the bed, where Ristina's sleeping breath had settled completely, her tense body finally relaxing.
He turned toward the corner, where a wooden basin filled with warm water sat on a small table, steam curling gently upward.
Beside the basin, several white linen towels were neatly folded.
Orum walked over and dipped his hand into the basin to test the temperature. The water was warm, just right, neither hot enough to scald nor too cool.
He picked up a towel, dipped it into the warm water, and wrung it out firmly.
He picked up the basin, holding the warm towel, and turned to walk toward the stone bed.
Ristina lay quietly on the stone bed. Her clothes were completely soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to her body and tracing the curves beneath.
Her complexion had recovered considerably. No longer pale, a faint flush of color had returned to her skin.
Her breathing was steady and strong, her chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm.
Orum stopped beside the bed and set the basin down on the small table by the headboard. He leaned forward, about to wipe away the sweat from Ristina's body with the towel.
Just as the towel in his hand was about to touch Ristina's skin, Orum's motion paused for a moment. He glanced down instinctively.
Ristina's eyes had opened.
Those ice blue eyes were staring directly at him, glistening in the candlelight, filled with a complicated swirl of emotion.
Orum and Ristina held each other's gaze. The air in the chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the only sounds the faint crackle of the candle flame and the two of them breathing.
Ristina's lashes trembled faintly, a flicker of shyness and unease crossing her ice blue eyes, but she didn't look away. Instead, she gazed at Orum even more intently.
In those few seconds of eye contact, the color rushed rapidly into Ristina's pale cheeks.
That crimson blush spread like a sunset, from her cheeks all the way to her ears, and even down her slender neck, tinting it pink.
This was the first time Orum had ever seen Ristina wear such a bashful expression. Usually gentle, composed, and graceful, the half-elf maid now looked like a girl caught doing something wrong, flustered with embarrassment.
"O... Lord Orum..."
Ristina's voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum, trembling and restrained.
She bit her pale lower lip, her eyes darting away, seemingly unable to meet Orum's gaze directly.
Her hands gripped the bedsheet tightly, her knuckles white with the effort.
Ristina's body trembled faintly, whether from weakness or from embarrassment and nerves, it was hard to say.
"Did you... did you..."
"Hear... in the forest... the things I said..."
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, until it was barely audible.
Her eyes were filled with shame and unease, as if simply saying those words had used up every ounce of her courage.
The towel froze in Orum's hand, and as he looked at Ristina's flushed face, the scene in the forest rose unbidden in his mind, her crying, begging him to let her offer herself to him.
The air in the chamber grew even heavier, and Orum could hear his own heartbeat echoing in his chest.
"I heard."
Orum finally spoke, his voice low and calm.
The words landed like a stone dropped into a still pond, sending ripples spreading outward.
Ristina's body jolted, and her cheeks flushed even redder, red enough that it seemed blood might rise to the surface.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Ristina's eyes brimmed with tears in an instant, welling up as her voice broke.
"To think I said something so... so shameless to my master... I..."
But in the very next moment, something happened that Orum never could have anticipated.
Ristina suddenly sat up from the bed, both hands reaching out and wrapping tightly around Orum's neck.
Orum's eyes widened in shock. A warm, soft, damp sensation suddenly covered his lips.
The touch was delicate and trembling, carrying a hint of inexperience and timidity, yet firm and unwavering all the same.
Soft lips, as if pouring every emotion she held into that single moment.
That night, the stone bed in the chamber shook violently, nearly collapsing.