FSFSLU 37

chapter 37

Had Marcel fallen asleep?

No, he hadn’t.

From an outsider’s perspective, it might have looked like sleep, but in essence, it was entirely different.

Sleep is an act of rest, but what held Marcel captive and wouldn’t let him go wasn’t sleep—it was his own consciousness.

It was true that his body lay motionless, but in reality, simply lying there was as exhausting as giving his all. Within Marcel, a fierce and enormous struggle raged constantly.

He fought against and resisted something shapeless and unknown. He severed what bound him, repelled what pressed him down, and struggled endlessly against it.

This was what the Holy Sword desired. Not Marcel as an individual, nor Marcel as a member of society, but the essence of his life as a living being. A trial he could only endure by tearing, smashing, and passing through with his whole body, unable even to use tools.

Some might call it barbaric, but this was exactly what the Holy Sword intended to test in Marcel.

And so, time passed, again and again, while he remained trapped in an endless struggle.

Within this enormous cycle of uncertainty, Marcel finally…

“Ugh!”

He opened his eyes.

Even after opening them, he gasped for breath, his eyes darting beneath his eyelids. He had the awareness that he needed to regain his composure—a very unfamiliar feeling after days of mental battle.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. They moved around, taking in familiar surroundings. This place was unmistakably…

“A relief center…?”

“That’s right!”

With a high, cheerful shout, Isabel suddenly poked her head into his line of sight. Marcel, startled, fell back with a thud.

Only then did Marcel realize he was lying on a cot in the relief center.

Blinking for a moment as he tried to understand what had happened, Marcel hurriedly got to his feet. At that moment, a familiar voice reached him.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“Jeremy? Why… am I…?”

Jeremy was still assisting Isabel nearby. Seeing Marcel confused, he told Isabel he would step outside for a moment with him.

“Call me if you need anything, Father.”

“Go ahead~”

Jeremy led Marcel outside. Marcel gaped at the long line that stretched beyond the tent in front of the relief center. It seemed even longer than the first day Isabel had arrived.

He had no idea what had happened. His memories had stopped when he had found the Holy Sword in Tames.

After entering a deserted alley, Jeremy stopped, scratched his head, and said,

“Thank you, Ha.”

“Huh?”

“I said, tell him thank you.”

Marcel politely asked why he was being thanked. When he learned that Jeremy had saved him after he had lost consciousness in the water while trying to retrieve the Holy Sword, Marcel bowed respectfully.

“If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been in serious trouble. Thank you so much.”

“Hey, look up. Your brother would scold me if he saw you like this.”

“I’ll bow a little more.”

“I said, look up. Are you doing this on purpose?”

Jeremy then carefully recounted what had happened while Marcel was unconscious.

While Marcel was searching for the Holy Sword, Gerolt had tricked his subordinates to climb the mountain in pursuit of the Demon Sword. Isabel, whose goal was to find the Demon Sword before Gerolt, managed to draw it just before Gerolt could. Then, due to a strange phenomenon called the “mutation,” Gerolt transformed into a monster and attacked Isabel.

So Isabel wielded the Demon Sword and killed Gerolt.

At that point, Marcel could no longer contain his shock.

“Wait… the Father killed Gerolt? The head of the Gerolters?”

“That’s right. Your brother is continuing Gerolt’s work now. He’s probably reviewing documents with Mayor Thompson at the Upper Branch of the Gerolters’ office.”

“So… the Father has drawn the Demon Sword? But… he’s unharmed?”

“The angels are protecting him. By the way, are you okay? The Father said not to worry about you, but you’ve been asleep for two days.”

“Two days?”

Marcel counted the days, astonished. Two days? And Isabel was still in the city, still running the relief center?

“Wasn’t the Father’s goal to retrieve the Demon Sword? Then why is he still here?”

“Well, first, you had to wake up, and more importantly…”

Jeremy scratched the back of his head, looking awkward.

“I asked him to stay.”

“….”

Hearing that, Marcel felt a little embarrassed. It sounded as though Jeremy were bragging, saying, “The Father is staying here because I asked him to.”

“I asked him to teach me how to treat people before he leaves. So he said he’d stay a few more days and let me assist him.”

From the first day Isabel ran the relief center, Jeremy had been helping treat patients. He had learned that Isabel didn’t just finish treatment with divine power; she also diagnosed patients and applied other appropriate treatments without using divine power.

Jeremy wanted to learn that.

“When you fell in the water, I used what I learned from the Father to assess your condition.”

“…You want to become a doctor?”

“Not fully a doctor, but I can learn a lot if needed. I even did a simple procedure earlier—popped a boil and applied medicine. The Father said I did quite well. Later, I’ll learn how to suture skin too.”

Jeremy felt a little embarrassed, but those he called his older siblings were people far beyond his reach.

Dyke was so strong that no one could match him physically, Liz was the next strongest with unmatched charisma, and he had never possessed the qualities to make someone appear complete.

Perhaps that was why he wanted one of those qualities for himself: saving and helping others. He wanted to replicate the shining miracles Isabel had performed at the relief center.

“Anyway…”

Jeremy glanced around awkwardly and patted Marcel on the back.

“Now that you’ve drawn the Holy Sword, it’s time to train, right?”

“Huh? Train for what?”

“Training, of course. Grandpa Goat seems determined. I think he plans to make you a human weapon.”

Marcel shivered. Training under Goat’s strict guidance would make him stronger but also unbearably grueling.

But he soon steeled his resolve.

When he had held the Holy Sword, he felt it testing the very depths of him. Though he had earned its acknowledgment, he had also exposed his weakest, most pitiful self.

He wanted to become stronger, worthy of being the Holy Sword’s master.

He believed this was the expectation the Father and the angels had for him.

“…”

Marcel closed his eyes for a moment and let his right hand hang down, concentrating on the Holy Sword that was now his.

Light gathered around his hand and solidified into a long sword.

Jeremy stepped back in surprise. To him, the sword radiated not gentle, benevolent divine power, but a resolute, strict force capable of severing evil.

Marcel swung the sword a few times, then made it disappear. He hung his head and covered his face with both hands.

It was laughable.

As a child, he had swung a long branch as if it were a sword. And now, as the master of a Holy Sword, he felt little different from that child.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Yes, a little…”

“You fool. You should be proud!”

Without pretension, simply allowing himself to feel embarrassed when embarrassed—such composure and steadiness suited a Holy Sword master and a novel’s protagonist, though Marcel didn’t realize it.

So he only hoped to wield this power well.

Jeremy returned to the relief center, and Marcel headed home.

He thought to himself: the first action after drawing the Holy Sword being a reenactment of his childhood swordplay—how embarrassing as a memory. Even with the Holy Sword, Marcel was still that kind of person.

That day, Isabel treated eighty more patients. Fortunately, all the people treated on her first day had recovered fully, so one more day of relief center operations seemed sufficient.

The sun was setting. Isabel planned to depart the next morning, so even after the Yongrin Cave incident, she had spent over half a day treating patients.

She and the other Gerolters followers of Liz busily packed up the medical waste, furniture, blankets, and other supplies. With so many people, the work finished quickly.

As the cleanup neared completion, Isabel entrusted the last seven young Starflower leaves to Jeremy.

“If you soak these leaves in clean water, they’ll make potent potions. One leaf can produce enough for a hundred people if used sparingly, so don’t be too frugal.”

“Father, we don’t need to cut and drain pus from every infection, right?”

“No. Divine potions work well for inflammation. Just remember how I used them and teach the people who need help, filling small bottles with the potion!”

All day, Isabel taught Jeremy medical knowledge. He was quick-witted, and Isabel, trained by many determined nuns at the monastery, could convey difficult concepts simply.

“There won’t be many cases requiring procedures. Most patients in Rettina have lung disease. Usually, divine potions are enough, so you’ll do fine!”

“Thanks to you, Father, I’ve tried so many things I never dreamed of before.”

“You’re already much better than I was at first. Having you as my assistant has made things so much easier!”

Jeremy sniffled silently, moved by Isabel’s bright words.

“You could stay a bit longer. I won’t see Liz anymore…”

“Why not, Jeremy?”

At that moment, Liz’s voice came from inside the relief center, startling Jeremy.

“Sis?”

“I’m just following Isabel to keep an eye on my head. She’ll return soon.”

Liz had been treated by Isabel after being hit by Dyke, experiencing occasional headaches and dizziness. Isabel insisted Liz come along.

“Do you have a headache now?”

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

“Only when running. I’m fine now.”

“Double vision?”

“Now isn’t the time for that. Let’s finish up and depart.”

Isabel placed her hands on her hips and locked eyes with Liz. After a brief standoff, Liz relented and replied,

“I see fine. No hallucinations or dizziness.”

“How would you rate the pain, 1 to 10?”

“You’ll get scolded, Isabel.”

“Hehe.”

Jeremy chuckled, thinking, Who else would bend like this to her? before Liz lightly smacked him on the back of the head.

Seeing Isabel seriously consider Jeremy’s complaints, Liz teased him to carry and move supplies instead.

The three left the relief center. The last rays of the setting sun reflected off the oily surface of Tames.

“I’m proud!”

Isabel stretched and exclaimed cheerfully.

Liz silently watched her. After the Yongrin Cave incident, Isabel had immediately insisted on setting up the relief center, determined to treat as many remaining patients as possible.

How could she do that? Liz couldn’t understand.

“Do you enjoy healing?”

“Seeing the sick recover and smile makes it fun!”

“What a funny taste.”

Even now, Isabel was the Holy Sword’s master, yet her inner child-like nature remained.

She had great goals, and Liz vaguely understood them. If she could help achieve them, Liz would support Isabel with all her strength.

In the two days Isabel had been in Rettina, the city had transformed.

The tyrant was dead, the sick healed, Marcel drew the Holy Sword, Dyke freed from Gerolt’s control, Goat regained his health and motivation. Jeremy dreamed of becoming a doctor, Rilton reattached a severed finger, and Thompson finally gained the means to improve the city.

And just as they had changed, Liz thought…

I can…

“Isabel, not that way.”

“Ah!”

She muttered softly, hoping to at least guide this foolish one along the path they had traveled many times before.