Chapter 178: Gradual Awakening

Gawain couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders and convenience of healing magic. In this world, there was no advanced medical science, no comprehensive understanding of microbes, human anatomy, or cellular biology. For common folk, even a simple infected wound could be fatal. Yet, those who mastered the ways of the Holy Light or Nature could perform miraculous “healing” through magic. As long as one could afford it, a person on the brink of death could have their wounds sealed and life restored within minutes, turning near-certain death into survival.

The Kant domain had no druids, but it did have several Holy Light priests. One of them lived year-round in the castle’s small chapel, serving as the lord’s spiritual advisor and caretaker of his health. Upon receiving timely notice from the servants, this priest quickly arrived at Victor Kant’s study and used the Light to save the old viscount’s faltering life.

Gawain stood quietly to the side, watching the priest at work. The druid’s potion had already replenished Victor’s vital energy, and the knight’s “Blood Inspiration” skill had rapidly restored the blood lost by overdrawing that life force. Now, the healing Light was being applied directly to the wound. The priest prayed devoutly while carefully gripping the dagger’s hilt. Then, invoking the name of the Holy Light’s deity, he swiftly pulled the weapon free.

Immediately, the Light surged, rapidly sealing the wound and repairing the damaged muscles and bones beneath the surface. Throughout the process, the priest continued his prayers, maintaining the healing effect on the viscount without interruption.

Gawain nodded silently to himself. Finally, here was a Holy Light priest acting like one should—none of that nonsense with dragon-bone setting or finger strikes to clear the mind. Where on earth did those skills even come from?

The healing would continue for a while longer. The servants clustered anxiously around their master. Gawain glanced around and began inspecting every corner of the study on his own.

No one questioned his actions. The ordinary servants assumed the duke was simply examining the scene of a crime, and the steward Carter—who might have tried to interfere—had already fled, now the prime suspect.

Gawain’s gaze swept across the enclosed study, his brow furrowing slightly.

This was hardly a suitable place for a study. Though located on an upper floor of the castle, the lighting was terrible. The narrow, claustrophobic windows typical of ancient castles were especially oppressive here. There was only one slender window, which let in barely any sunlight even at the brightest time of day. The magic crystal lamps embedded in the walls seemed faulty—despite all being lit, the room remained shrouded in a dim, hazy gloom.

No, perhaps it wasn’t the lamps themselves…

Gawain’s eyes fixed on one lamp in particular. Its light was actually quite bright, but some force seemed to be restraining it, preventing it from illuminating the entire room.

So this kindly, cheerful-looking Viscount Victor actually worked in such a strange, oppressive study?

Gawain moved to one side of the room, where a massive bookshelf stood against the wall. Rows of beautifully bound, heavy books were neatly arranged, many with gold and silver decorations on their spines—a typical sign of noble collections.

To Gawain, these books served multiple purposes: knowledge when needed, weapons when necessary, and if the family fell on hard times, the gold on the bindings could be pried off to raise funds. Aside from the risk of getting hit in the face by a falling tome while reading in bed, these heavy, ornate books perfectly embodied the idea that “knowledge is power—and money.”

In fact, most books of this era were like this—luxuries only the wealthy could afford. Sometimes, the size of a noble’s library was a direct measure of their wealth and status, even if they never actually read most of the volumes.

But Viscount Kant clearly wasn’t just collecting these books for show. Most of the bindings showed signs of wear and deformation—evidence of frequent use. Some even bore patches of glue, leather, and gold or silver leaf repairs, marks of a true book lover.

However, as Gawain scanned the shelves, he noticed all the repairs were old. The gold and silver leaf had tarnished, the leather patches were worn, and there wasn’t a single relatively new book in sight.

It seemed that at some point, the viscount lost interest in these “ordinary” books.

Then what had he been reading? The forbidden tomes left behind by the Sleepless Cult?

Gawain turned to a small table behind the desk piled with unused documents and files. His attention was caught by an unfolded sheet of paper.

It contained hastily recorded accounts—raw data not yet entered into the ledgers. Among the entries, the most conspicuous were payments to a mercenary group, including a deposit for their next mission. The job description simply read: “Gather materials.”

Records of mercenaries hired to capture refugees? Evidence?

Gawain frowned and was about to step closer when a sudden commotion arose among the servants behind him. A faint extra light spilled into the dim study.

Surprised, Gawain turned to see Lady Lilith Kant standing in the doorway. The frail woman, almost like a shadow, held a lantern. She must have run all the way from the North Tower guided by its light. Her wide eyes stared in shock and fear at Victor Kant, surrounded by the crowd.

“What happened?!” Lilith gasped, her voice trembling. “Someone… someone tell me… what’s wrong with Victor?”

“Madam, please don’t panic,” the Holy Light priest quickly stood. “Thanks to the grace of the Holy Light, the viscount is fine. He only suffered a superficial wound and fainted from shock. Duke Gawain gave him a potion in time, and with my healing, he is now safe.”

As he spoke, the priest raised his hand to summon a soothing beam of Light for the distressed lady, but Lilith ignored him and hurried to Victor’s side. After confirming he was still breathing, she relaxed slightly and looked at Gawain. “Thank you… thank you for saving him.”

“It was my duty,” Gawain nodded slightly, then addressed the servants. “There are too many people crowded in here. Your master needs fresh air. Except for his personal attendants, everyone else should leave.”

Though not the castle’s lord, no one dared oppose Gawain’s command. Soon, most servants filed out. After confirming the healing spell was stable and no further magic was needed, the priest also withdrew.

Victor Kant’s wound had healed. A senior valet wiped the blood from his clothes as the viscount slowly regained consciousness.

His gaze lingered before focusing on the room’s occupants. First, he saw Gawain and froze for a moment, then his eyes landed on Lilith, and his expression tightened. “My dear! What are you doing here?!”

“I… I heard something happened in the castle…” Lilith looked flustered. “I came to see you…”

“I’m fine,” Victor waved weakly, signaling the servants to step back. He tried to stand but failed, and Lilith immediately steadied him. He grasped her arm with his free hand. “You don’t need to worry—if anything, you coming here has me worried.”

“I… I’m okay,” the viscount’s wife said hurriedly, then quickly nodded to Gawain. “Duke, you saved him immediately and called the priest—what exactly happened?”

“Thank you for your help,” Victor said to Gawain, frowning as he took a slow breath—the wound was healed, but the pain of the dagger piercing his chest still lingered between his heart and lungs. “It was Carter. He attacked me suddenly. I was completely stunned. It was like he became a different person—stabbing me while muttering strange things about intruders in the castle and protecting something… I’m still in shock!”

Then the viscount seemed to realize something. “By the way, where did Carter go? Did he attack anyone else?”

Gawain was about to answer when a shadow suddenly coalesced in the study. Amber’s voice came from within it.

“He got away.”

The half-elf appeared, soaked from the rain. Her long ears flicked in the air—probably shaking off water—as she looked at Gawain. “That old steward is no ordinary man! I saw him running across the castle’s spires like he was flying. His figure vanished and reappeared in an instant. Even with my Shadow Step, I couldn’t catch him. I finally lost him near the stables behind the castle. I just couldn’t find him after that.”

Gawain was startled. “Even you couldn’t track him?”

“Yeah, he’s at least a demigod,” Amber said confidently. “After all, I’m the chosen of the Night Goddess…”

Gawain pretended not to hear that last part.

“He’s escaped, and he’s likely a threat,” Gawain said, looking at the viscount and his wife. “I suggest you strengthen the castle’s defenses.”

“Absolutely,” Victor nodded firmly.

Lilith nodded too, but suddenly clutched her forehead and swayed as if losing strength.

Victor’s face tightened with concern. “My dear?”

“I… I feel dizzy,” Lilith said, her voice tinged with pain. “I’m not well…”

“You’ve been away from your room too long!” Victor’s tone grew serious. “You need to rest immediately. Don’t worry—I’ll double the guards at the North Tower, and as soon as I’m better, I’ll come be with you.”

“O-okay,” Lilith wavered to her feet, dazed but obedient. She picked up the lantern beside her and slowly made her way toward the study’s door.

(End of chapter)