Chapter 9: Broken.

The next morning in Ordis, a fine drizzle fell.

When Hill woke, the bed beside her was already empty. Only the faint lingering warmth proved someone had slept there the night before.

She rubbed her still-drowsy temples.

Last night’s rose-scented bath seemed to have drained too much of her energy. She had slept unusually deeply.

“Good morning, Hill.”

Phyllis entered carrying a tray. The air immediately filled with the aroma of fried eggs and oatmeal porridge.

She wore a practical light gray long dress today, covered by a white apron—giving her the unmistakable air of a devoted homemaker.

“Morning…”

Hill yawned, voice hoarse.

“Isn’t today a rest day? Why are you up so early?”

“Hm. Today is a prayer day.”

Phyllis set the breakfast tray on the bedside table and gently adjusted Hill’s pillow.

“As an auxiliary member of the Church, I need to help distribute holy water at the cathedral this morning. So… I won’t be able to accompany Hill for a while.”

At those words, Phyllis’s face took on the forlorn expression of an abandoned puppy.

“It’s fine. Important duties come first.”

Hill picked up the spoon.

“Actually, I arranged to meet Vera. She wanted to show me her new gear… ahem, and we were going to discuss that ruin expedition she mentioned last time.”

Hill didn’t notice that the moment she said “Vera,” Phyllis’s fingers—currently smoothing the bedsheets—froze for a split second.

“I see…”

Phyllis replied with her back still turned, voice as gentle as ever.

“Then Hill must be careful. I’ve heard unsettling rumors about that ruin lately.”

“Don’t worry. We’re just meeting at the guild for tea and talk. I’m not leaving the city.”

Hill waved her hand carelessly.

Phyllis turned around. Her smile was flawless.

That’s good.

Be very… careful.

Ten o’clock in the morning, Adventurers’ Guild.

The atmosphere today felt unusually heavy.

Rainy days filled the hall with a damp, moldy smell.

Hill sat at their agreed table, sipping hot milk and watching the clock hands creep past ten-thirty.

“Strange. Sister Vera isn’t the type to be late.”

Hill frowned.

For a B-rank mercenary, punctuality was basic discipline.

Just as she was about to stand and ask around, a commotion erupted at the main entrance.

“Move! Get out of the way!!”

“Emergency! Is there a high-tier healer?!”

The heavy doors were violently shoved open. Several blood-soaked men burst in carrying a makeshift stretcher.

Rainwater mixed with vivid red blood left a shocking trail across the floor.

The entire tavern fell instantly silent.

Hill’s gaze landed on the stretcher. Her pupils contracted sharply.

That distinctive red hair was now matted with mud and blood. The face that usually burst with hearty laughter was now deathly pale.

The enormous two-handed axe lay broken in two beside the stretcher.

It was Vera.

A buzzing filled Hill’s mind. Her body moved before her thoughts could catch up—she rushed forward.

“Sister Vera!”

Vera lay unconscious on the stretcher, breathing so faintly it was almost undetectable.

The most horrifying sight was her right arm…

The arm that once swung that giant axe one-handed was now an unnatural purplish-black. Twisted, bulging veins like exposed tree roots covered the surface, still twitching violently.

“What happened?!”

Hill seized the collar of a nearby mercenary—one of Crimson Fang’s members.

“I don’t know… we were just doing a routine patrol near the abandoned mine outside the city…”

The mercenary’s face was ashen with terror.

“The captain… she just swung once at a slime, and then… her arm just exploded! Like some kind of curse backlash!”

Curse?

Hill immediately looked at Vera’s arm.

This wasn’t a physical wound. It was magical necrosis caused by mana runaway.

“Move aside! The guild’s resident physician is here!”

The crowd parted. An elderly white-haired doctor hurried over with his medicine case.

He took one look at Vera’s arm and his face turned ghastly.

“This… demonic corrosion? No, it’s more like a precisely triggered toxin…”

His hands trembled.

“No good. The nerves are already dissolving. If we don’t amputate immediately, the poison will reach her heart—she’ll die!”

“Amputate?!”

Gasps rose from the surrounding mercenaries.

For a warrior whose livelihood depended on swinging a two-handed axe, losing her right arm meant the end of her career—and in this cruel world, becoming a useless burden.

“Is there really no other way?”

Hill asked urgently.

“Unless a cardinal-level Church cleric is present to reconstruct it with holy light, otherwise…”

The old physician shook his head and took out a bone saw.

Despair settled over everyone.

Vera groaned in pain even while unconscious, as though sensing what she was about to lose.

Hill clenched her fists, feeling a deep helplessness.

If I had mana…

If I were still my former self…

Right now I can do nothing…

I can only watch my friend become crippled.

Just as the cold saw blade was about to touch Vera’s skin—

“…Sacred Purification.”

A pure white pillar of light—so clean it made people want to weep—pierced the guild’s filthy air and enveloped Vera precisely.

Everyone turned in shock.

At the entrance, a figure walked in against the light.

She folded her dripping umbrella. The hem of her white dress remained spotless despite the muddy floor.

Golden hair glowed with divine radiance in the dim hall.

“Phyllis…”

Hill murmured, eyes flooding with wild joy.

“Oh my, it’s so noisy here.”

Phyllis frowned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the half-dead woman on the stretcher.

Still alive.

Such tenacious vitality—like a cockroach.

But that’s perfect.

Death would be too cheap for her. Living in suffering is the best warning.

She walked quickly to the stretcher. Her expression instantly shifted into the compassionate mode of a saint.

“How did she get hurt so badly? Is this Hill’s friend?”

“Phyllis! Please save her!”

Hill clutched Phyllis’s hand like a lifeline.

“The doctor said amputation…”

“Shh…”

Phyllis placed a single finger gently over Hill’s lips, silencing her.

“Don’t be afraid, Hill. Since she’s someone important to you, how could I let anything happen to her?”

She knelt and held both hands suspended above Vera’s purplish-black arm.

To outsiders, it looked like a sacred healing rite.

Only Phyllis knew she was performing the final cleanup.

In truth, there was no mysterious toxin. It was the delayed-curse variant she had planted on the back of Vera’s hand last night.

Normally dormant.

But once intense battle aura was channeled—boom. The curse detonated the nerves like a bomb.

What she was doing now wasn’t healing the arm. It was preserving Vera’s life while permanently destroying the limb’s function.

“O Goddess, please forgive this lost soul…”

Phyllis chanted softly. The light flared brilliantly.

The purplish-black on Vera’s arm began to recede. The bulging veins gradually subsided.

“It’s working!”

The old physician exclaimed.

“The toxin is vanishing! Is this the power of a high-tier cleric?”

Cheers erupted.

Hill let out a long breath of relief, eyes growing hot.

But when Phyllis stood, her face carried a trace of regret.

“Her life is safe. However…”

She looked at Hill, voice heavy with sorrow.

“The nerve damage is too severe. This arm… I’m afraid it will never lift heavy objects again. Even holding a fork to eat may cause trembling.”

The cheers died instantly.

Hill froze.

“You mean… she can never adventure again?”

“Unfortunately.”

Phyllis lowered her lashes, concealing the cold, subtle amusement in her eyes.

“This is the price of saving her life.”

One hour later, in a quiet rest room at the guild.

Vera had woken.

The once-bold, hearty woman now stared blankly at her still-intact—but completely numb—right hand.

She tried to make a fist. Her fingers only twitched faintly. She couldn’t even lift them.

“…Hill.”

Vera’s voice was dry and hoarse—no trace of her usual booming tone.

“Am I… finished?”

Hill sat beside the bed, at a complete loss for words.

Every comforting phrase felt pale and powerless against such brutal reality.

“Sister Vera, as long as you’re alive—”

“What’s the point of being alive?!”

Vera suddenly broke down sobbing. Her left hand pounded the bed violently.

“I don’t know how to do anything except swing an axe! I’m a mercenary! Now I can’t even hold a sword—what am I supposed to do? Beg on the streets?!”

“…”

The desperate cries pierced Hill’s ears.

It was the wail of a warrior stripped of her claws.

Phyllis stood quietly in the corner, holding a damp towel.

Watching the broken Vera, she felt nothing—not even irritation. Just mild annoyance at the noise.

See, Hill?

This is what happens when you leave my side.

This is the outside world.

Full of accidents, curses, and sudden ruin.

Phyllis stepped forward and gently placed her hand on Hill’s shoulder.

“Hill, let her rest quietly for now.”

Her voice was gentle yet firm.

“We’ll help contact her family back home and provide travel expenses. That’s the most we can do.”

Hill’s eyes were red. She gave one last look at the still-sobbing Vera, then let Phyllis half-embrace, half-guide her out of the room.

In the corridor, the rain continued.

Hill leaned against the wall, body trembling slightly.

This body reacted too strongly to emotions. The chill named fear had nearly seeped into her marrow.

Vera was an experienced veteran—yet one routine patrol had ruined her.

What if it had been me?

Without Phyllis by my side, would I one day swing my sword and suddenly collapse—becoming one of those sobbing, useless wrecks?

“Hill?”

Phyllis stood before her, cupping Hill’s icy cheeks in both hands.

Those blue eyes held exactly the sense of security Hill needed most right now—deep as the ocean.

“Were you frightened?”

“…Yes.”

Hill didn’t try to be strong. Right now she was fragile beyond measure.

“I was just thinking… if the person lying on that bed had been me…”

“It won’t happen.”

Phyllis cut her off.

She leaned closer, forehead touching Hill’s. Their breaths mingled.

“Because you have me.”

Phyllis’s voice carried a bewitching, hypnotic power.

“I will check every step you take. I will purify every breath you draw. I will eliminate anything that might harm you before it ever reaches you.”

“As long as you stay within my sight, such misfortune will never touch you.”

“Never.”

Hill looked at Phyllis—so close their noses nearly brushed.

Against the backdrop of Vera’s tragedy, this person appeared so sacred, so powerful, so utterly indispensable.

In that moment, a corner of Hill’s psychological defenses collapsed completely.

She reached out and—for the first time—wrapped her arms tightly around Phyllis’s waist.

Like someone about to fall into an abyss clutching the last straw.

“…Don’t leave me, Phyllis.”

Hill buried her face in the crook of Phyllis’s neck, voice muffled.

“I don’t want to become like that.”

“…”

Phyllis hugged her back.

Arms tightening—very tightly—almost painfully.

Her chin rested lightly atop Hill’s head. She gazed toward the closed door at the end of the corridor—where Vera still lay.

In the angle Hill couldn’t see, her face bloomed into a smile of狂喜 and twisted delight.

Yes.

Just like this.

Depend on me completely.

My… Lady Hill.

“Mm. I promise.”

Phyllis stroked Hill’s trembling back as though soothing a frightened housecat.

“We will always be together. In this clean world that belongs only to the two of us.”