Chapter 52: Heartfelt Intentions

A Place of Light in the Dark

The “sky” remained dark. The glowing cabin on the hill was easily spotted. In such a dim place, having a destination was comforting. But why not return to the surface? Wenger had her doubts about them.

She’d long sensed this might not be her original spacetime. Though it seemed unbelievable, she’d already crossed into a game—what was impossible? Aranold’s story reminded her of Softwind Ridge’s legends. Thinking this way, everything seemed to align. “Hero,” “evil dragon,” “holy sword.” The Nameless Sword, stained with dragon blood, likely tied to them, serving as a medium to bring her to their vicinity.

The fairy tale still circulated in storybooks, conservatively dated tens of thousands of years ago. She doubted anyone could survive that long, but their strength far exceeded imagination. Some questions were too rude to ask directly. If her reasoning was correct, the story’s ending seemed decent, absurd yet tinged with happiness. How much happiness depended on them.

Wenger glanced at Edward’s back, clutching her flower tightly. It had hurt so much… The scar lingered on her knuckles, stinging relentlessly. She stuck to her resolve—having come this far and endured, not bringing it back would be a loss. ￣へ￣ But… it still hurt. Pouting silently, she followed behind.

The road back to the town took about half an hour. She wondered if Mr. Vick had woken…

On the other side, Vick, awake for a while, felt lying down was pointless. His illness wasn’t tied to anything else—just this harsher environment. Mana flow stagnated, preventing him from drawing even a sliver, worsening his condition. He felt better now, likely due to some unknown medicine. The more ordinary something seemed, the more unimaginable power it hid.

He couldn’t sense Aranold’s aura, but as a dragon, it was unlikely she lacked strength, especially after he’d fought one recently. Stepping into the courtyard, he saw the mountain dominating his view. Its immense pressure was almost heart-stopping. He tried stepping out of the courtyard’s light, and biting snow and wind roared in. Was gathering herbs for him too difficult? The girl had just reached the fourth tier, and for someone so insignificant…

In the blizzard, two figures emerged faintly. One tall and steady, the other petite, hugging herself, head bowed against the frost. Vick walked straight toward her, his blood aura scattering the snow briefly. Fluttering flakes mingled with the heavy snowfall, dancing again. “Mr. Vick, you’re awake?” “Thanks for the trouble.” His words carried an unclear emotion. Wenger smiled. “The snow’s heavy—let’s get inside.”

Back in the cabin, Edward had already buried himself in Aranold’s chest. She smiled awkwardly at them, patting his head. Inside, steaming honey water waited on the table. Infused with some herb, it was milder than before, with a faint bitterness. Wenger glanced at Aranold, then Vick. The couple tactfully left them alone, stepping into the courtyard and closing the door.

“Has Lady Leon told you everything?” Aranold took Edward’s surname, though she said it wasn’t necessary here with just them. But rituals mattered. Wenger nodded in agreement. Vick spoke solemnly. “I can’t bind your life just for my sake. My knight’s code wouldn’t allow it.”

Wenger hadn’t expected such a firm refusal—she hadn’t even agreed yet! “But you’ll die.” She wasn’t too upset; she couldn’t force someone facing death. “I know,” Vick’s eyes were calm. “But until death comes, nothing has happened.”

Before true fear arrived, the dreaded hadn’t occurred. Thus, fearlessness. Wenger had no counter for this mindset. She wasn’t angry that her hard-earned flower was useless, but she recalled something. “Didn’t Mr. Vick say he was looking for someone?” He wanted to respond but found he couldn’t brush it off. He hadn’t found them, so he gave up… did he?

Seeing his hesitation, Wenger pressed. “Haven’t you asked my thoughts?” He seemed unsure how to be as oblivious as her. “I respect Miss Wenger’s thoughts.” “Then what if I want you to live? Mr. Vick, I can’t stand by and let someone die.” Her gaze held no sentiment, as if she’d only ever acted for herself.

“I can accept you vanishing quietly or never returning after leaving. I can search for dragon vein stones myself—it just takes time. “But you’re standing before me now. How do I tell my future self I did nothing, just watched a life fade? “Or does Mr. Vick think I never feel pain?”

Wenger still prayed her heart wouldn’t numb with time. She said a lot at once. As if all the unspoken pleas from watching familiar faces leave coalesced into this question. Saving someone wasn’t her intent—she just didn’t want regrets recalling this moment.

Vick was silent for a long time. Her sincere kindness made his own thoughts seem selfish. He couldn’t accept another’s sacrifice without reason, but asking “what do you want” would be an insult. They needed time. Wenger stepped outside. Aranold and Edward leaned together, whispering about sunflowers. Her heavy tail swayed, occasionally brushing Edward’s calf, and he’d pat her horn each time.

Wenger leaned against the door, watching them tease each other. Vick, inside, gazed through the window at all three. They needed time.

For the girl drifting in darkness, she might need even more. Prolonged hunger left Viyi barely conscious. Peach was exhausted, barely holding on. The flat ground she hoped for was like the darkness before her—intangible, nowhere to land. Were Teacher and the others safe? Though she should probably worry about herself. She hoped Teacher wasn’t too worried…

Leaning on Peach’s soft tendrils, she drifted for an unknown time. Upon landing, she saw nothing. Endless deathly aura surged, tirelessly seeping into her. Even her spontaneous light dispersed. Only Peach stayed by her side, its faint calls unable to pierce the dark mist.