Mae jolted, then reflexively straightened up.
"Oh— Lady Ravena," she said at once.
Lina stopped wiping the table.
"Eh?" She turned, confused. "Lady... who?"
The woman stepped inside without haste. Her gaze paused briefly on Lina before returning to Mae.
"It’s been a while," she said lightly.
"I’m Ravena. Mae’s forr colleague. Back when she was still willing to serve on the battlefield."
Lina blinked. From the way Mae stiffened, it was obvious this was no ordinary visitor.
Ravena glanced around the small clinic—simple wooden shelves, low-grade potion bottles, bare-bones equipnt.
"So this is where you are now?" she said. "A small village. A small clinic."
Mae offered a faint smile.
"I’m comfortable here."
Ravena snorted softly.
"You’ve always been bad at lying."
She stepped closer. Her tone remained casual, but her eyes were sharp.
"Comfortable? In a place where the young master dares to challenge a Regional Knight? Co on, Mae."
Ravena crossed her arms.
"You’re a talented healer. With your ability, you should at least be a High Restoration Adept—not a village healer brewing cheap potions."
Mae shook her head slowly.
"I’m not interested."
Ravena frowned.
"You’re wasting yourself."
Mae lifted her head. Her gaze was calm, almost rigid.
"Being an ordinary healer is more than enough for ."
Silence briefly filled the room.
Ravena stared at Mae for a long mont, then gave a small smile—not mocking, but clearly disappointed.
"You’re still the sa," she said softly. "Still holding onto that trauma."
Mae imdiately shook her head. "That’s not—"
Her words cut off when she realized Lina was still there.
Ravena glanced at Lina briefly, then back to Mae. Her voice lowered, but remained clear.
"Mae. Oiliyana’s death was not your fault."
Mae’s body tensed.
Her hands trembled.
In an instant, the world around her vanished.
The battlefield.
Mud soaked with blood.
Screams, clashing steel, the stench of iron and fire.
Oiliyana stood in the middle of the chaos—her body drenched in others’ blood, still forcing herself to heal. Those hands never stopped moving, even as her own breathing grew ragged.
"There are still... survivors..."
Mae swallowed sharply. Her chest felt tight.
Ravena let out a long breath, then straightened and firmly patted Mae’s shoulder.
"You know that," she said firmly. "And Oiliyana knew it too."
She looked straight into Mae’s eyes.
"She even entrusted you with the Gauntlet of Vital Aegis."
Ravena continued, her voice softer now.
"An artifact ant to save lives... and take them if necessary. That gauntlet isn’t given to soone who hesitates. It’s given to a healer prepared to stand on the front line."
Silence enveloped the clinic.
Lina looked at the two of them, not daring to speak.
Mae lowered her head, her fingers slowly curling into fists—still trembling, but no longer fragile.
Mae drew her shoulder back slightly, as if trying to shake off the touch. Her discomfort was obvious.
"...What business do you have coming here, Lady Ravena?" she finally asked.
Ravena didn’t answer imdiately. She stepped half a pace away, then leaned casually against the wooden table.
"I was assigned to observe a duel," she said.
"A duel between the Young Master and Sir Aldric."
Mae’s brow furrowed.
"That’s all?"
Ravena t her gaze directly.
"Of course not."
She exhaled shortly.
"I’m not even interested in the duel. I was worried about you. Ever since then."
Mae fell silent.
Ravena continued, her tone more serious.
"You’ve truly lost the will to beco the Grand Hierophant of Sanctum Healing."
The title lingered in the air—the highest rank of healer, the most influential authority within the Central Cathedral.
Mae lowered her gaze slightly.
"...I’m no longer pursuing it."
----
Far from the gloomy vibes—
At the edge of the freshly harvested field, Liona sat beneath a tree, watching the two of them train.
Lucas swung The Great Hoe.
WHOOOM—
The heavy blade surged forward with full montum, cleaving through the air. His movents were no longer stiff like before—the transitions between swings were far smoother, his footing steady.
Across from him, Silvara already held her claymore in one hand. Her silver eyes tracked every motion Lucas made without blinking.
CLANG—
The claymore caught the Hoe’s swing right along the edge of the blade.
The ground beneath their feet trembled lightly.
Silvara narrowed her eyes.
"...Hmph."
She pushed back, then rotated her sword into a ready stance.
"Looks like you learn fast, kid."
"Sa insult again?" Lucas let out a short laugh as he pulled his weapon back onto his shoulder.
"Co on. At least be more creative if you’re going to mock ."
He glanced at her silver hair.
"Silver head."
Silvara’s brow twitched.
"Tch."
She stepped forward once, her pressure rising slightly.
"Bold of you. Don’t let your confidence grow faster than your ability."
Lucas lowered his center of gravity, his feet digging into the soil.
"Relax. I’ll make sure they grow together."
The wind stirred once more.
Both weapons rose at the sa ti.
Lucas and Silvara resud their fight.
Clash after clash echoed across the empty field—heavy tal colliding, feet grinding into the soil, the air trembling from the montum of their weapons.
WHAM—
CLANG—
The Great Hoe spun in a wide arc, forcing Silvara back half a step. Her claymore struck back swiftly, its angle sharp and controlled. Neither of them hesitated, their rhythm growing tighter with each exchange.
From afar—
Atop a low cliff overlooking the field, a woman stood still.
Jet black hair fell neatly down her back, her long coat fluttered gently in the wind. Her gaze was sharp and calm, observing every movent without missing a single detail.
Matruska Grimhelt.
She let out a quiet breath.
"...Isabelle," she murmured, her voice nearly swallowed by the wind.
"Why is your son foolish enough to fight with a hoe?"
The wind passed on.
There was no answer.
Matruska narrowed her eyes slightly, her lips curving faintly—whether in irritation or intrigue was unclear.
"...And why is the knight I trained fighting against him at the edge of a tomato field with such a happy expression?"
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