His steps halted, eyes wide at the sight before him.
Behind the black iron bars, a girl hung suspended—both hands cuffed above her head. Her body was covered in bruises, whip marks crisscrossing her pale skin. Her breathing was faint, nearly imperceptible.
The shackles around her wrists were so tight they'd broken the skin—blood trickling down her arms.
Dian's feet moved on instinct.
*Locked.*
"Shit," he muttered, barely keeping his rage in check. But he forced himself to breathe. I'm a mage now.
He focused. Mana surged through his body, flowing with surprising ease—as if his body already knew what to do.
Stepping back slightly, he raised his hand toward the lock. With a swift motion—Slice!
A shimmering, blurry blade, forged of raw mana and elemental focus, materialized and cut through the bars like butter.
Clank!
The metal fell away with the lock, crashing to the ground. Without pause, Dian stepped inside.
"Hey! Can you hear me?" he called, gently shaking her. No response.
He reached for her pulse.
She's alive… but barely. Weak pulse. Faint breath.
Without wasting another second, he lifted his hand again and—Slice!
Clink!
The chains dropped, and she collapsed into his arms.
He caught her carefully, his hands trembling as they held her fragile form. He didn't dare squeeze too tightly. It felt like if he applied even a little pressure, she would shatter.
Holding her close, he turned and left the suffocating dark cell.
Faint light filtered from the hallway above, casting a path toward the staircase. With every step upward, a small wave of relief washed over him—he'd saved her. For now, she was safe.
Chimes echoed in his mind, but he ignored them, focused only on her.
Beads of sweat trailed down his forehead as he carried her toward the study room. His pace steady now, resolute.
The doors were already open.
Inside, Jones stood by the desk.
The old butler's eyes flicked to the woman in Dian's arms. Light green hair, torn clothes, marks etched all over her body. His eyes narrowed—curious, but respectful.
Dian gently laid her on the velvet couch near the table. His touch tender, his eyes softened as he took in her full appearance.
Under the amber glow of enchanted lanterns, she looked almost ethereal.
An elven woman, pale as moonlight. Her light green hair fanned around her like a silk halo, shimmering faintly with a glow that reminded him of starlight.
Bruises still marred her arms, shoulders, and legs—purple reminders of cruelty. Her gown was torn at the seams, revealing a voluptuous figure now slack with unconsciousness, every breath shallow.
Her beauty was undeniable. Even now, bruised and broken, she looked like a fragile statue carved by a heartbroken god.
Woah... She's... beautiful, was the first thought that struck Dian. But a frown quickly replaced the awe as he looked at her injuries.
"Butler, bring potions. And a healer. Now," Dian ordered, voice sharp.
He paused.
"And there shouldn't be anyone in this world named Balios or Aether from now on."
His words cut through the silence like a blade.
Jones nodded once, understanding the gravity in his young lord's tone. "Consider it done, young lord."
He left.
---
Outside the castle
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange hue over the stone walls. The birds had fallen silent. Even the wind was still. A heavy silence wrapped the castle like a veil, as if nature itself mourned.
---
Some time later, Jones returned—but alone.
"Young lord… I'm sorry. We have no healer on-site." He pulled a silver vial from his coat. "And... this is the highest-grade potion we currently have."
His shoulders drooped slightly with guilt.
Dian took it and shook his head. "It's fine, Butler. No one could've expected this."
He uncorked the vial.
**Pop!**
A soft, sweet fragrance filled the air. Unusual—for most potions were odorless or foul-smelling.
This is a rare one… high-grade, Dian thought.
He leaned close.
"Hey, drink this," he said gently. "It'll help."
One hand tilted her chin up, the other carefully poured the potion into her mouth. Slowly, softly, she drank.
A silver light glowed in her chest…
And then—vanished.
Wait… did she just recover? Dian thought.
A chime echoed in his mind.
"No, Host. She did not," the system answered plainly.
"Huh? But I gave her a high-grade healing potion…"
"She's beyond that. You'll need something stronger. Only a Supreme Elixir will work in her current state."
The system's tone was flat—no teasing, no jokes.
*We don't have any more… Wait. Open the System Shop, Dian commanded. Take me straight to the Potions tab.
A blue screen blinked open.
---
[Potions]
1. Lesser Potion – Minor healing/magic restoration.
Price – 5 L.P
2. Standard Potion – Moderate healing, mana, stable enchantments.
Price – 10 L.P
3. High-grade Potion – Full mana, solid healing, buffs.
Price – 20 L.P
4. Supreme Potion – Revives from critical state, enhances beyond mortal limit temporarily.
Price – 100 L.P
---
He scrolled down, searching.
This one… This is it.
Without hesitation, he hit **Buy**.
---
[Purchase Initiated]
[Success!]
L.P Deducted – 100
[Balance: 100 L.P]
---
Wait… wasn't I supposed to have 250 L.P?
"Host, that's the fair price," the system replied coolly. "And the missing 50? You used that to break the illusion."
Dian could've argued, but time was short.
Later. He sighed. You win.
"Butler," Dian called. "Leave the room. No one comes in till I walk out."
"Yes, young lord." Jones bowed and exited.
---
As the door clicked shut, Dian looked at his hand.
With a flicker of light, a radiant vial appeared. It glowed faintly, with swirling blue liquid and ancient markings etched along the glass.
System inventory. Like a subspace pocket… neat.
"Okay. This one's gonna work," he muttered, lifting the vial.
He cradled her face gently, trying again—but this time, she couldn't swallow. The potion dribbled from her lips.
She can't drink…?
Without hesitation, Dian brought the vial to his own lips. Drank.
Then leaned forward, gently holding her face.
And kissed her.
A deep, urgent kiss—not out of passion, but desperation.
Transferring the potion mouth-to-mouth, he pressed his lips to hers. One or two drops spilled from the corners of her mouth, trailing down her cheek.
The moment was… strangely intimate.
Her lips… they're soft. Sweet…
Even in this broken state, she felt warm, her lips soft, tender and sweet...
Focus for now. He broke the kiss, eyes locked on her chest, watching for any change.