Chapter 109, After the Night

Translator: Barnnn

 

Hal sat down beside Ize, who had finally regained a measure of composure, and took a sip of warm tea.

It was summer, yes — but right now, warm tea somehow felt more soothing.

He needed it.  Because what came next… was the last thing he wanted to hear.

 

“So,” he began, carefully keeping his tone neutral, “did you fix Bardveles’s wing?”

Ize blinked. “You figured it out?”

“If I hadn’t, I’d be an idiot.”

“You could at least pretend not to know.”

“Yeah, no. That’s asking a bit much.”

 

Unable to keep up the act, Ize’s eyes darted left and right in a panic before she gave a sheepish, almost strangled laugh.

Truth was, Hal had already known. From the moment Bardveles had first let out that deafening roar, he’d guessed what had happened.

Both of the great Fire Dragon’s wings had been restored — perfectly, beautifully.

The right one, which had been severed by Hero Fuya. The left, once twisted and broken out of shape.

Now both gleamed with a smooth, polished sheen, like newly-forged blades.

 

“You passed out because you drained your MP using too much light magic, didn’t you?” Hal asked.

“Yes… That’s right,” she replied, nodding.

“You even used your Potions?”

“I did. At first, I was just showing it the stuff we brought from our world…”

 

Drawing on the fragments of what he’d heard during that half-dreamlike conversation, Hal pieced together the full picture.

Ize, accepting defeat, hesitated only a moment before beginning her explanation.

 

“I’d tried using the Curing Potion before, but never the Healing Potion. I told it that the bangle I wore used to be a crutch, and now it’s a ‘staff’ that boosts magic — but the boost is too strong, and I never found the right moment to actually use it…”

“So you figured, ‘why not try both at once’?”

“…Yeah.”

 

Hal suppressed the urge to sigh and glanced again at Bardveles’s wings.

The Healing Potion was designed to heal any wound. That it had restored the left wing — with Ize’s magic and the overpowered staff as support — made sense, at least.

 

“But what about the right wing? How did that grow back?”

“It was likely due to my magical interference,” Bardveles rumbled, responding to Hal’s musing.

“Again?” Fieda groaned. “Always comes back to your magic, doesn’t it?”

 

Bardveles didn’t seem offended. It calmly continued its explanation.

 

“My body is maintained by magical energy. It’s more accurate to say I am magical energy, condensed into physical form. And this entire space, as I’ve mentioned before, is saturated with it.”

 

That explained it — the reason Ize’s Camouflage skill had been disrupted the instant they arrived here. The dense magical field wasn’t just Bardveles itself, but part of the cave’s very air.

As the group nodded in unison, Bardveles looked around with satisfaction and went on to describe what exactly had happened to it at that moment.

 

“For centuries, this cave has stored a vast reservoir of energy. When Ize cast her massive healing spell, I felt that energy reverse course and rush into me. The surge of magical flow within me must have drawn it in. After all, it was born of my own essence.”

 

It had been a storm — a cascade of light magic, channeled through Ize and amplified by her staff. The resulting torrent had swept even Bardveles’s external magic back into its core, filling its enormous frame in an instant.

 

“Even after my left wing was restored,” Bardveles said, “the energy remained and began to run rampant. I had no choice but to direct it somewhere before it tore me apart from within. So I guided it toward the memory of my lost right wing.”

“You guided it?” Hal parroted, picking up on the word.

“Indeed. Rampaging magic must be released, or it will destroy its host. I had to cast something. But what kind of spell should I cast?” The fire Dragon gave a low growl, reminiscent of amusement. “I had just consumed a Healing Potion, and been infused with high-level light magic. My entire body brimmed with it. So I thought — why not try to regrow the right wing? See if it could be done.”

 

The energy flooding its body was excessive and unstable. But light magic, by nature, was regenerative.

Bardveles had made a snap judgment: if it could be shaped, it might serve as a spell of restoration.

 

“And I was right,” it declared, pride unmistakable in his tone.

 

It flexed its newly restored right wing, letting it sweep the air with deliberate grandeur.

 

“If you were so sure it would work,” Fieda deadpanned, “you didn’t have to roar and thrash around like a lunatic.”

“Guh–” Bardveles flinched at the jab, its haughty aura instantly deflated. “To be fair, it was just me in this cave most of the time for hundreds of years…”

“I mean, seriously,” he went on, exasperated. “You nearly killed Ize with all that nonsense.”

“I would never harm the one who saved me!” the Dragon protested.

 

But its guilt was plain.

While the two bickered like children, Volhelm let out a quiet sigh and turned to Hal.

 

“Hey, Hal… there’s something I forgot to tell you.”

 

Hal, who by now had experienced far too many surprises to be startled by one more, simply raised an eyebrow.

 

Volhelm looked mildly uncomfortable as he continued, “Today’s the third day, actually.”

“…Huh?”

“The night we got here, the Fire Dragon– uh, Bardveles, went on its rampage, right? You passed out after that — and you’ve been asleep for two full days. It’s the morning of the third day now.”

“So that means… I haven’t done a single thing for the quest?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Volhelm said with a small grin. “Spending time with Bardveles was the heart of the quest anyway. Talking to it was just one possible part of that. Besides–”

 

He tilted his head toward Bardveles, who was still swishing its wings mid-argument with Fieda.

 

“Don’t you think healing those wings is a big enough accomplishment? If the Adventurers’ Guild hears about it, we might get a bonus reward.”

“That’s… going to cause a stir, isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Ugh…” Hal rubbed a hand against his forehead and looked sidelong at the person most responsible for the chaos.

 

But the person in question was waging a desperate battle against the pull of her heavy eyelids.

 

“You haven’t been sleeping much, have you? While I was out cold,” Hal asked quietly.

“Yeah… I was worried,” Ize murmured.

“I figured. But it’s fine now. You can sleep.”

“…Are you really okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve got some Potions, too. If anything happens, I’ll wake you right away.”

“…Thank you.”

 

It was clear she hadn’t just been sleep-deprived. After crying that hard, she must’ve been completely exhausted.

Ize collapsed onto the futon beside Hal with a soft sigh, her body going slack. She was asleep within a minute, her breath already deep and even.

Hal reached out and gently brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

 

“She probably hasn’t slept at all,” he murmured.

“No… I doubt she has,” said Volhelm.

 

Hal could easily imagine her refusing to leave his side the whole time he had been unconscious.

By now, Fieda had returned — likely after finishing his argument with Bardveles — and sat down with a dull thud beside the futon.

 

“Hal,” he said, his tone serious. “Keep an eye on Ize for a while.”

“Keep an eye on her?”

“I don’t like saying this, but… you were in bad shape. Real bad.”

“Yeah… I figured.”

 

He hadn’t seen it himself, of course. There wasn’t a scratch on him now, but that only made it harder to feel real. Still, he could guess — he must have been inches from death.

 

“Afterward, once that dumb Dragon finally calmed down and fixed the mess around us… I looked at you lying there on the ground, and I thought — ‘That’s it. He’s gone.'” Fieda turned his eyes away, as if regretting the helplessness he’d felt. “Even hearing you breathe felt like a miracle. I was scared that if I touched you, even that faint breath would vanish. I couldn’t go near you.”

 

He lowered his head and clenched his jaw, words leaking out through gritted teeth.

 

“Then, Ize came to. The moment she saw you… she screamed. I never want to see her like that again. She was covered in your blood, clinging to your body, casting healing spells like her life depended on it. And this — right after she collapsed from energy depletion healing that dumb Dragon.”

 

Hal turned toward the girl sleeping peacefully beside him. Her face looked calm, serene — but there was no comfort in that. He couldn’t let himself relax.

 

“Is it okay? Using that much magic one after another like that?”

“She collapsed again right after your wounds closed up. Lost consciousness for nearly a full day. Remember, last time she ran out of power, she was back on her feet in a few hours. So yeah, it was bad.”

 

While Ize was unconscious, Fieda had taken it upon himself to administer a Healing Potion to Hal, just in case. They had always received individual Potion rations before Dungeon explorations — something Ize had insisted on, to be prepared for emergencies. It turned out to be a life-saving decision.

 

“Even after she woke up, she was a wreck,” Fieda went on. “She just sat there, staring at you, waiting for you to open your eyes.”

 

Hal remembered waking up to find Ize right beside him. She had been watching his chest rise and fall, feeling for the faint beat of his heart. She must have stayed like that for a day or more, not sleeping, barely moving. The image was so vivid in his mind that he shut his eyes tight against it, clenching his teeth and swallowing the heat welling in his throat.

 

“She’s probably going to cling to you for a while,” Volhelm added.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll keep an eye out. Make sure she’s not having nightmares or anything. And… there’s also the issue of combat.”

Hal blinked. “Combat? What do you mean?”

“Ize is going to be overly sensitive now. About you getting hurt. That might mess with her during fights.”

“…Right,” Hal murmured.

 

He understood that feeling well. When they’d first started exploring a Dungeon, he’d hated seeing Ize throw herself into danger. But for the sake of improving her skills — and for the sake of being able to protect themselves — he’d come to accept it.

This time, though, Hal had been hurt because he was protecting Ize. She had survived, but her heart had taken the hit. No Potion could heal that.

Just like Hal had done, she would need time. Time to face it, accept it, and find a way through.

 

“She just got past her staircase trauma, too,” he groaned.

“Yeah. And now this. One thing after another. Damn Dragon’s fault, all of it.”

“I am remorseful, you know,” Bardveles grumbled.

“Then show it in a way that means something,” Fieda snapped.

“Hmm…”

 

With a rumble of contemplation, the Dragon began lumbering off toward the back of the cave, tail dragging and wings rustling faintly.

 

Fieda sighed. “Unbelievable…”

“So,” Hal said, glancing over, “what about the Adventurers’ Guild? What’re we doing with that?”

“Oh, right, that.” Fieda grimaced. “Don’t tell me they’re gonna promote us to A-rank over this. I didn’t do anything — I want no part of it.”

“Wait, A-rank? Seriously?” Hal asked, wide-eyed.

“They might, yeah,” Volhelm replied with a reluctant shrug. “I must’ve already told you this, but the Fire Dragon’s seen as a guardian deity around here. Once word gets out that it’s healed, the whole town’s gonna lose their minds. They’ll probably treat your party like saviors.”

“Please no…”

 

Fieda ran a hand down his face, clearly exhausted by the thought. Hal found himself just as ready to bury his head in his hands.

 

“Is there any way to cover it up?” he asked.

“Well… we might be able to keep it under wraps until the next contract — six months from now. Oh! Actually, I know the people who are up next to take the job. If Bardveles asks them directly, I think they’ll keep quiet. That might buy us a year.”

“A year, huh… think we could make it look like it healed gradually?”

“It’d be a bit of a stretch, but… maybe if we say it spent centuries stockpiling magic and slowly regenerated, it could work?”

“Let’s go with that,” Fieda said. “No way am I accepting a reward for this dumb Dragon. Especially not from anyone but him.”

“Fieda… please, just accept this and let the matter rest…”

 

The Dragon returned, moving with surprising finesse for its size. It carefully deposited something beside the futons with a clatter.

 

“Hey — watch it, you’ll wake Ize,” Hal whispered sharply.

“Apologies, apologies. But the green one seemed fond of these. I thought they might bring some joy.”

 

Piled around the bed was a mountain of iridescent scales — Bardveles’s own. They shimmered like a rainbow under the soft light of the cave, casting dancing colors across the stone floor.

 

“How’d you… get all these?” Hal asked.

“It happened when my wings regenerated,” Bardveles said, its deep voice echoing gently. “A great many of my old scales shed at once. I do not know whether this suffices as thanks, or apology, to the green one… but it is what I can offer.”

“Whoa… this is amazing,” Volhelm said, staring at the glimmering heap. “These would fetch a fortune.”

“I figured as much,” Hal muttered.

“Back when the Fire Dragon still roamed the skies, a handful of these were collected, but even then, they were few and had already begun to age. Some nobles still possess a piece or two, but even a fragment smaller than half the size of one of these… well, you could buy a house in the capital with that.”

 

Hal and Fieda exchanged a glance, then looked again at the glittering pile.

 

[We could buy hundreds of houses… maybe even the whole capital!]

 

The fortune laid out before them was staggering, and without needing to do any real math, both silently came to the same conclusion: absolutely not.

Fieda pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to find the right words.

 

“Look, I get what you’re trying to do. But this is just… too much. One scale is enough.”

“Is that so?” Bardveles rumbled, sounding amused. “You’re oddly modest in strange places. But once a gift has been offered, I cannot simply take it back. The green one’s Magic Bag has no limit, does it not? If it is no burden, then take it all.”

“Hal, you say something too–”

“Um… well, if you really insist, we’ll accept it. But can we leave it here for now? I want Ize to see it when she wakes up. If possible… I’d prefer if you gave it to her yourself, Bardveles.”

“Hmm… Very well,” the Dragon said with a slow nod.

 

Fieda shot Hal a look filled with exhausted resignation. Hal grimaced — he’d caved, taken the extravagant apology, and to top it off, passed the responsibility to Ize. Hardly a manly role model.

Volhelm, watching the exchange, let out a long sigh like a teacher disappointed in his most promising students.