Garick, the captain of the guard team, looked utterly battered.
His once-sturdy half-plate armor had been torn apart by some immense force. Thick bandages were wrapped around his chest and abdomen, yet dark red blood continued to seep through, dripping onto the stone floor.
“What on earth happened? Weren’t you escorting a merchant caravan to a nearby city? How did it end up like this?!”
“Quick! Ian, use healing magic!”
Leo’s eyes had turned red with anxiety. Though he usually had a foul temper, these guards had watched him grow up. Their bond ran deep.
“I’m already preparing it!”
Ian, standing nearby, pushed up his glasses. As he observed the lingering magical fluctuations around Garick’s wounds, a trace of gravity flashed in his eyes.
After a careful look, he realized that under such circumstances, ordinary healing magic would be ineffective. Only a skilled alchemist or the Holy See’s sacred healing arts would work.
But the situation was urgent. Trying something was better than doing nothing.
Ian channeled healing magic into Garick’s wounds.
However, a bizarre scene unfolded.
The magic, upon touching the wound, was like water dropped into a pan of boiling oil.
Sizzle—
A plume of white smoke carrying a pungent, bloody stench rose from the wound. Not only did it fail to heal, it caused Garick to let out a painful scream as his entire body convulsed violently.
“How is this possible? Healing magic isn’t working!” Leo cried out in shock.
Ian quickly withdrew his wand, cold sweat instantly forming on his forehead.
A faint suspicion had already formed in his mind—it might be an attack method from the shadow faction.
But he couldn’t confirm it yet. After all, in the Academy, he rarely encountered such unconventional real combat cases.
Leo looked at Ian, his eyes filled with a last glimmer of hope. “Professor Ian, does Arcadia Academy have any secret method that could—”
Ian bitterly pushed up his glasses and sighed helplessly. “You think too highly of me. I’m just a student…”
“Move aside.”
Everyone turned around.
Lady Elsa had arrived in the courtyard.
Even her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, clearly from rushing over. Yet her gaze was locked tightly onto the white smoke rising from Garick’s wound.
Garick struggled to salute, but Lady Elsa pressed his shoulder down firmly. “Don’t speak. Save your strength.”
She quickly put on a pair of gloves and pulled open the damaged section of his armor.
When she saw the wound’s edges had turned a strange purplish-black, with the surrounding flesh being continuously corroded, her expression darkened immediately.
From her bag, she took out a vial emitting a faint green glow, uncorked it, and poured the liquid directly over Garick’s bandages.
Sizzle—
Another burst of white smoke rose. Garick let out a muffled groan, but the tight furrow in his brow eased slightly.
She turned to the butler behind her and issued rapid, decisive orders. “Clear out all the guest rooms to accommodate the injured.”
“Yes, Madame!” The butler immediately ran off to carry out the order.
At that moment, no one noticed Ailiya, quietly standing at the edge of the crowd with a serving cart. A faint glimmer flashed in her eyes.
‘Appraisal.’
A semi-transparent system panel unfolded at the edge of her vision, lines of cold data appearing rapidly.
[Status Appraisal]
[Target: Garick (LV.10)]
[Negative Status: Deep Corrosion]
[Injury Source Analysis: Enchanted weapon wound; residual toxin: Withering Kiss]
[Danger Level: Near death]
Ailiya narrowed her eyes slightly.
A severe shadow faction skill.
This was an ability typically learned only at the second tier.
According to the game’s world setting, NPCs had an extremely low chance of acquiring it. So how had a guard captain escorting a merchant caravan run into this?
Normally, such skills were only mastered by assassination organizations or high-ranking cultists.
The green potion Lady Elsa had used barely suppressed the wound, but the ashen pallor on Garick’s face showed no improvement. His breathing had only stabilized slightly.
Amid the chaos, the servants carefully transferred the injured to the guest rooms as instructed.
“Be gentle,” Lady Elsa said, standing up and directing things in an orderly manner. “Martha, take people to boil hot water in the kitchen. Anna, bring all the clean linen and bandages…”
The servants of the estate moved like well-oiled gears, quickly and efficiently.
After initial treatment, the other guards with minor injuries improved significantly after drinking potions. At least their lives were no longer in danger.
Most of them had suffered ordinary blade wounds or low-tier magic injuries.
Only Captain Garick’s condition remained dire.
He was placed alone in the quietest guest room at the end of the corridor.
Although the potion had slowed the deterioration of his wounds, he remained unconscious. His breathing was extremely faint, his chest barely rising—so weak it seemed he could stop breathing at any moment.
Creak—
The door to the room was pushed open.
“Mother, how is Uncle Garick?”
Leo, who had been waiting in the corridor, walked in.
His usual arrogant demeanor was completely gone, replaced by anxiety and worry.
“He looks even worse than before!”
Ian stood nearby, pushing up his glasses with a grave expression.
“I took a closer look earlier. The magical residue in Captain Garick’s wounds appears to be some kind of high-level shadow attack, possibly accompanied by a potent toxin. Ordinary healing magic is not only ineffective—it actually fuels the spread of the poison.”
Lady Elsa glanced at Ian and nodded. “Professor Ian is correct. It’s an extremely rare and vicious shadow toxin. The Emerald Breath potion I used earlier was very costly to refine, but it can only temporarily suppress the spread. It cannot eliminate it.”
“Then what do we do? Are we just going to watch Uncle Garick die?” Leo’s voice cracked with desperation.
“Silence, Leo! Calm down!” Lady Elsa sharply rebuked him, cutting off his panic. “In the future, no matter what happens, you must never lose your composure first.”
Leo froze, then nodded stiffly.
Lady Elsa took a deep breath, suppressing her frustration. Her gaze swept across the room before finally settling on Ailiya, who stood quietly in the corner, almost unnoticed.
Ailiya held a basin of freshly drawn hot water, a clean towel draped over her wrist, waiting silently.
“Ailiya.” Lady Elsa walked quickly to her, her tone carrying a rare hint of appeal. “You’ve always been steady and meticulous. While I’m away, I’ll entrust Garick to your care.”
Ailiya lowered her head slightly, giving an inexplicable sense of reassurance.
“Wipe his forehead and neck with warm water at regular intervals to reduce his temperature.”
“If he begins to convulse violently, or if the wound starts seeping foul-smelling black blood again, immediately give him the blue potion on the table. Do you understand?”
“Understood, Madame.” Ailiya glanced at the blue vial and nodded.
After giving these instructions, Lady Elsa turned to Leo and Ian. “Professor Ian, please keep an eye on Leo. Don’t let him cause trouble. I must personally go to the church in the city center.”
“The church?” Leo was stunned.
“Yes.” As she spoke, Lady Elsa put on the cloak handed to her by a maid and headed out. “For a toxin of this level, ordinary potions are useless.”
“Only clergy of the Holy See, using pure holy light purification, can completely remove it.”
“I must get there as quickly as possible and bring someone back. Let’s just hope Garick can hold on until then.”
With that, she wasted no time and hurried out the door.
Soon, the sound of a carriage rapidly departing the estate echoed from outside.
The room fell silent again, the oppressive atmosphere almost suffocating.
Ian stood to the side, his gaze lingering on Garick’s wound, as if contemplating what force lay behind this sudden attack.
Ailiya walked steadily to the basin. Following Lady Elsa’s instructions, she lifted the linen towel soaked in warm water and wrung it dry with both hands.
From Leo and Ian’s angle, Ailiya had her back to them.
Her slender figure looked the same as always—focused, dutiful, devoid of emotion.
Everyone thought she was simply fulfilling her role as a maid.
No one noticed that at this very moment, a chilling light surged within the eyes of the silver-haired maid.
It was not indifference toward the injured man on the bed, nor coldness toward a life on the brink of death.
Rather, an extreme sense of discord suddenly enveloped her without warning.
An unseen pair of eyes was watching everything in the room without restraint.
The other party was observing.