Novel Full Chapter 304: Let me be your blade
Chapter 304: Let me be your blade
The last fifteen kilometers to Goldenveil were the most grueling walk of Theron’s life, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement.
His knees threatened to give out at any moment, and his eyes, heavy with exhaustion, could barely focus on the trail ahead.
Dried blood caked his torn clothes, while the biting wind cut into his open wounds like tiny blades.
Finally, he began to feel the magical density in the air increase.
Yes, Goldenveil had always had a strangely high magical density.
Theron quickened his pace, forcing his trembling legs to obey.
He needed to reach Goldenveil and find a healer soon, or he wouldn’t live to see the next dawn.
He didn’t have much money on him, but it would be enough to pay for a healer doctor. At least, that’s what he hoped.
"Ugh... isn’t the density a little too high?" he muttered to himself, spitting out a thick strand of blood as he kept moving forward.
It was then that he caught sight, through the mist dancing before his weary eyes, of the first sign of human civilization: a road!
Theron ran with relief, until, finally, through the veil of pain clouding his mind, he realized: that road was too new and too perfect.
Made of some kind of black brick—perhaps basalt—each piece was meticulously fitted to the next.
For a moment, Theron hesitated, wiping a trickle of blood running down his cracked lips with the back of his hand.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he slowly turned his head, following the line of the road with his gaze.
"Shit..." Finally, he saw what he was looking for. A city.
That had to be Goldenveil. He was almost certain his mental maps were correct, but...
How the hell could he believe that?
What Theron saw was a massive, snow-white wall, the basalt road stretching all the way to a wide gate.
Towers rose along the wall, each crowned by banners fluttering in the wind.
He hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he pressed on.
He was too exhausted to think about anything else.
Step by step, he dragged his bloodied body toward the gates, each movement draining what little strength he had left.
Ten armed soldiers stood guard at that gate.
The moment they noticed him, and the pressure of his faltering aura reached the guards, they all shuddered—especially the third-stage officer commanding the platoon.
His subordinates could only tell that this man was a powerful warrior, despite his injuries. But the officer immediately realized that this man was a fourth-stage warrior!
Theron took a few more unsteady steps forward before collapsing, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion.
One of the guards rushed over immediately, catching him before he hit the ground, his hands gripping the man’s bloodied shoulders to support his weight.
"L-Lieutenant, what should we do?" the guard asked, turning his pale face toward the officer.
"Go get Lord Ethan! We must take him to the barracks’ medics immediately!" the officer ordered, pulling the powerful specialist from the soldier’s trembling hands in one fluid motion.
Those were the last words Theron heard before darkness engulfed him completely.
He didn’t know how long he slept.
He only felt his own body relax, the pain gradually fading, and a strange peace taking hold of his tired and confused mind.
Even the terrible wounds on his body—caused by the forced advance and which should have practically left him crippled for the rest of his life—began to heal.
When Theron’s eyes finally opened again, he was in a clearly military room—an officer’s room, judging by how comfortable the bed was.
His body was no longer covered in bandages, as they were no longer necessary.
All the open wounds had been closed; only the most severe ones left scars behind.
His eyes stared at the ceiling for a brief moment before he slowly turned his face to the side.
There, sitting in a chair beside the bed, was Ethan Goldenveil.
The young lord had a calm expression on his face and his arms casually crossed over his chest.
He stared at Theron for an instant, his eyes shining as he looked at the status screen floating before him.
[Name: Theron
Age: 53
Talent: Rank SS
Level: 125/180
Opinion: 70
Loyalty: 85%
Class: Swordsman]
In his entire life, this was the first time he’d seen someone with such a high base loyalty—and better yet, a fourth-stage expert!
Arwen came pretty close, but even she only had a base loyalty of eighty.
"You’ve been through some terrible things, haven’t you? What led you to perform a forced advance? My wife has literally divine healing magic, but even she barely managed to save your aura heart," Ethan said in a calm voice.
It was true.
It took Arwen nearly ten hours to repair Theron’s aura heart, and by the time she finished, she was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
Forced advances were an incredible way to save lives in lost battles, but few used such a method unless they wanted to kill the enemy at all costs or were truly desperate.
The chance of surviving a forced advance, even with great talent, was less than twenty percent. And even if they survived, their aura hearts would be terribly damaged.
If Ethan didn’t have Arwen and her incredible magical abilities, Theron would live for no more than ten years and would hardly be able to demonstrate power beyond that of a second-stage.
Fortunately, she was a priestess of the goddess of life herself.
It was difficult, but she managed to repair all the damage.
Theron placed his hand on his chest, feeling his aura heart pulse in harmony with his blood heart.
All the damage had vanished, both from his aura heart and from his body.
Theron forced himself to stand, looked at Ethan, and immediately fell to his knees.
He didn’t hesitate for even a second, declaring in a powerful voice.
"Lord Ethan, my father always told me that I—just like all the men and women of our families—was born to be the sword that cuts down the enemies of a great man!
For saving my life, please let me be your blade and slit the throats of those who stand against you!"