Crunch! Crack! Snap!

The remaining Sigma mage and knights bit down on the poison capsules hidden in their molars.

“Damn it! Damn youuu!”

The traitor Doyle screamed in despair, his voice thick with disbelief.

“You traitor! You will never have an easy death!”

Balzac, battered and bloodied, glared at Doyle with bloodshot eyes and spat out a curse.

“No… they can’t just kill themselves like that… I… I too…”

Before Balzac’s fierce determination could reach Doyle, the traitor’s face rapidly turned a pale purple as the Sigma mage, having bitten the poison, collapsed dead on the spot.

It seemed there was some kind of magical connection at play.

“That bastard! He shouldn’t have died so easily!”

Knights Karrot and Logi ground their teeth in frustration, angered by Doyle’s futile and anticlimactic end.

Yet, their frustration was fleeting.

Despite his exhaustion and injuries, Balzac didn’t forget the top priority of their mission.

“Search their bodies immediately! Bring anything useful to Sir Arad! Ugh…”

With that final order, Balzac collapsed onto the ground, completely spent.

“Lord Balzac!”

The two knights, who had been rummaging through the dead Sigma members’ belongings, ran to him in alarm.

“I’m fine… focus on Her Grace. Bring the Imperial potions to Sir Arad…”

Balzac shook his head vigorously, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I approached him quickly, noting how the mighty Sword Master of the North, though famed, seemed oblivious to my arrival due to his utter exhaustion.

Standing a cautious distance behind him, I prepared for any unforeseen situation.

“You don’t need to worry about Her Grace. I’ve completed all the treatments I could.”

I stepped closer to the knight and delivered the words he most wanted to hear.

“How is Her Grace? Even if she can’t wield a sword anymore, just saving her life… I’ll grant you anything you desire!”

Startled by my voice from behind, Balzac turned abruptly to face me.

“The treatment went well. Now, it’s up to Her Grace to recover on her own.”

“Ah… is that so? Then that’s enough. Her Grace will persevere, I’m certain. For now… for now, I must rest… too dizzy…”

With those words, Balzac lost consciousness. Judging by his steady breathing, he had fainted from sheer exhaustion.

“Hah…”

“Is it truly over now?”

Knights Karrot and Logi, finally able to relax, sank to the ground, their legs trembling from the tension of battle.

“Let’s get everyone into the carriage,” I said.

With everyone in such poor condition, I needed to load Arina and the knights into the Golden Carriage.

“This… how is this even possible?”

“Is there no end to the surprises?”

“From the outside, it looked so small!”

The knights—Eothe, Karrot, and Logi—stepped inside the carriage, their eyes wide in astonishment as they took in the spacious interior.

After some grunting and straining, they managed to carry the unconscious Balzac into the carriage.

“You can lay Lord Balzac over there,” I instructed, having already placed the sleeping Arina on my bed.

And so, six of us—including me—occupied the carriage’s interior, made possible by the subspace mana circuits embedded within it.

Arina lay on the bed, Balzac sprawled on the floor, while Eothe, Karrot, and Logi sat awkwardly in the cramped space.

‘The smell, though…’

While it had been manageable outside, the enclosed space amplified the foul odors emanating from their unwashed bodies.

“For now, let’s focus on getting out of the Abyss. I’ll go up front to drive the carriage,” I said, unable to endure the stench any longer.

“What about us…?”

“Just rest for now. We can take turns driving the carriage.”

“Understood.”

“There’s bread and beer here. Help yourselves if you’re hungry.”

“F-food!”

The three knights immediately devoured the bread and beer like men starved.

“….”

Watching their ravenous eating, I sighed and added, “Rest as much as you need, but don’t touch anything else.”

“Of course!”

Chomp chomp chomp!

Gulp gulp, ahhh!

Leaving behind the sounds of their enthusiastic feasting, I exited the carriage.

Inhale… Exhale…

The fresh air helped clear my head from the nauseating stench.

Making my way to the front of the carriage, I checked on the horses.

“They’ve calmed down a lot.”

Miraculously, the two horses had survived the chaos. Though they’d collapsed frothing at the mouth several times during the battle, they seemed relatively stable now.

“Let’s go! You don’t want to stay here any longer either, right?”

I climbed onto the driver’s seat and snapped the reins.

Neigh!

Without delay, the Golden Carriage began to leave the desolate Abyss behind.

Inside the moving carriage, I checked on Arina.

To endure the lingering stench, I wore a perfumed mask. It amazed me how the others seemed so indifferent to the smell.

Perhaps it was because they were medieval people—or maybe their superhuman constitutions made them immune. Either way, it was remarkable.

“Why are you wearing a mask?”

The voice startled me.

Balzac, now awake, was leaning against the wall, drinking beer and munching on bread.

“I think I’m catching a cold,” I lied.

I couldn’t very well tell him, You all smell like homeless people.

“A… cold?”

The knights reacted as if I’d said something truly bizarre.

‘Oh, right. Northern people don’t get colds.’

More precisely, adult Northerners didn’t. The harsh climate ensured only the strong survived to adulthood, rendering weaker individuals susceptible to illnesses like the common cold extinct.

‘And there’s their ancestry, too.’

Many of them descended from druids, which blessed them with innate resilience and endurance.

“Hahaha! Now you truly seem human to me. Yes, the Northern cold must be harsh for an outsider.”

“Take a proper rest. From now on, we’ll take turns driving the carriage,” Balzac declared.

“No… it’s fine—”

“What nonsense is that? You will rest! You’ve earned it.”

 

"……."

But that little white lie about catching a cold had cost me my only reprieve.

Damn it! The carriage doesn’t even have windows!

Because of the limited resources and rudimentary setup, the magically expanded interior of the carriage had no windows.

They say the enemy within is the scariest…

At this rate, I might suffocate—not from monsters or the Empire, but from the stench of my comrades.

“How is Her Grace faring?”

Balzac’s natural question broke my train of thought.

“She’s much more stable now,” I replied.

“Then why hasn’t she woken up?”

“Her injuries were extremely severe.”

While answering him, I briefly entertained the thought: Maybe she hasn’t woken up because of the smell?

“I see…”

“By the way, Sir Balzac,” I began cautiously, lowering my voice.

“Speak freely.”

“Has Her Grace ever trained in magic?”

“Hmm?”

His expression showed confusion, as if to ask, What are you talking about?

“During the healing process, I inspected Her Grace’s energy cores—my apologies for the intrusion. That’s when I discovered a circle in her heart. It’s a second-circle formation.”

“What…!”

Balzac immediately focused on Arina’s core in disbelief.

“This can’t be…”

After a moment of concentration, his reaction confirmed my words.

So even Balzac didn’t know. That means the circle in her heart must have formed recently.

I glanced at Arina’s body, particularly at her heart, deep in thought.

When her lower core was destroyed, did the mana core migrate to her mid-core in the heart?

The more I pondered, the more sense it made.

Knights store their mana cores in their lower core, located in their abdomen. Clerics house divine power in their upper core, located in the brain. Meanwhile, mages and witches engrave their magic circles in the mid-core, located in the heart.

Arina’s abdomen—the site of her lower core—was pierced during Doyle’s attack. Naturally, the core there would have been damaged.

Now that I think about it, it was strange. Despite her lower core being destroyed, there were no signs of mana reflux. I assumed it was thanks to the potions Balzac used, but it seems there was another reason.

What a remarkable individual. Even in a life-threatening moment, her body instinctively rerouted the collapsing core to her heart.

Of course, this likely wasn’t intentional. It must have been her body reacting on its own.

“What does this mean for Her Grace?” Balzac, Eothe, and Karrot asked anxiously.

“We’ll know more once she wakes up,” I replied carefully.

“Will she be able to wield a sword again?” Balzac pressed.

“She’s still young, so with training, she should be able to. Her lower core can regenerate, and since it’s essentially being rebuilt, it will likely be even stronger than before.”

“Is that true…? Then could I…?”

Balzac’s face lit up with a dangerous enthusiasm, and for a moment, he looked as if he were seriously considering injuring himself to replicate her condition.

“Her Grace was incredibly fortunate. Don’t try to imitate her. If you fail, you’ll end up dead—or worse, crippled. And there’s no guarantee I could recreate the elixir.”

“Hahaha! A joke, of course. So, what about the circle in Her Grace’s heart?”

“At two circles, she could learn some basic utility spells. She could conjure small flames or ice, create a light, or move light objects telekinetically.”

Listening to my explanation, Eothe and Karrot exchanged curious glances.

“Wait… does this mean Her Grace is now a magic swordsman?”

“This might be a good time for us to consider learning magic too. Maybe we can ask the witches to engrave circles in our hearts!”

“Come to think of it, why haven’t we trained in magic before? Even a second-circle mage could be useful.”

“When we trained as knights, our masters always told us to avoid magic. But they never explained why.”

Both knights turned their gazes toward me, looking at me as if I were some sage who held the answers to the mysteries of the world.

With a serious expression, I shook my head.

“Only a very small number of people are capable of housing two cores in their bodies. Without this rare compatibility, attempting to do so would disrupt your body’s balance and lead to collapse.”

“That’s true. It’s why most people specialize in either swordsmanship or magic,” Balzac added in agreement.

“What about Her Grace? Won’t having two cores be a problem for her?” Eothe and Karrot asked with concern.

“The circle in her heart can be ignored. As long as it’s not developed further, there won’t be an issue.”

The solution was simple.

Even the few magic swordsmen that existed on the continent used one core as their primary and the other strictly for support.

“In any case, we need to move quickly. Her Grace needs someone more specialized to examine her condition.”

“Are you saying there’s something even you don’t know?”

“I don’t know everything. Matters involving the heart’s circle are best handled by mages.”

As I carefully monitored Arina’s condition, I continued, “Moreover, the elixir I made is very primitive and incomplete. Even if her wounds are healed, we can’t predict what side effects might arise later.”

“We must reach High Castle quickly and have the Spring Witch examine her,” Balzac concluded.

“That would be wise.”

“I’ll tell Sir Logi to increase our speed. Meanwhile, I’ll stay on the roof to fend off any approaching monsters or adventurers.”

“I’ll join you, Balzac!”

“Me too!”

The knights, having regained some strength, scrambled to the back of the carriage and climbed to the roof.

They trust me too much, don’t they?

With the knights gone, the carriage was finally quiet.

It was just me and the unconscious Arina now.

Hah… Finally, I can breathe properly.

With the source of the stench removed, the air inside the carriage was noticeably better.

Wait… could they have gone outside because of the smell too?