"Wolka, are you all right?! Wh-what... what happened?!"
"Wait, just calm down. Let's talk—"
"You were trying to overexert yourself again, weren't you?! Stop it, I beg of you...!!"
She wasn't listening. My master, her face as white as a sheet, scooped me up from the floor without a second thought and pulled me into a tight embrace against her chest. Yep, still as flat as a board—begone, wicked thoughts.
"You stupid apprentice! Did I not tell you that you must remain at rest?! Ah, I knew it... I should never have left you alone!"
"Master."
"The wounds... have they opened?! Wait here, I shall fetch a sister at once—"
"Master!"
My master trembled slightly, and her eyes finally met mine. Well, she had been looking at me the whole time, of course. But her gaze had been hollow, as if she couldn't quite focus on what was right in front of her.
My stomach started to ache again.
"I’m sorry. I’m fine, so just help me back to the bed for now."
"Ah... Y-yes, of course. I am sorry..."
Supported by my master, I stood up and sat on the edge of the bed. I only really needed her to lend me a shoulder, but she helped me with such desperate intensity that anyone watching would have thought she was clinging to me. She looked like she was about to cry. My stomach groaned.
This was my master, the great and haughty Great Mage, Lieselalte.
To be honest, I didn't remember much about 'Lieselalte' from the original story. Because her entire party had been killed off almost immediately, she barely had any screen time. As the leader of Silvery Grey, she’d had a few lines of dialogue with the original protagonist, but that was the extent of it.
On the other hand, the character designs for the three girls of Silvery Grey were so high-quality they looked like main characters. Many readers probably expected them to team up with the protagonist and play a major role throughout the series.
Of course, those fans reading with such excitement were eventually slapped in the face with that horrific party-annihilation ending. God, what a trashy dark fantasy world.
So, setting the original work aside, I’ll describe my own perception of her.
Her nickname is Liesel. As the name 'Lieselalte' implies, she is a First-class Mage and the master who taught me the fundamentals of magic.
She doesn't even reach 140 centimeters in height. At a glance, she looks like a little girl.
She claims to be older than me, but her exact age remains a mystery—perhaps out of a sense of maidenly reserve. Her trademark is a massive witch’s hat shaped like a flower, featuring an eye-catching starry sky pattern on the lining. Her indigo robe, dark as the night itself, is sleeveless. Combined with the bare legs exposed beneath her short violet skirt, she gives off the unmistakable impression of a child playing dress-up as a witch. Her eyes are a clear, innocent gold, and her silver hair is long enough to reach her feet, tied into two large twin-tails and adorned with several adorable butterfly ribbons.
In terms of personality, she’s what you’d call a 'noja-loli.'
She uses archaic, elderly speech by choice, and as a self-proclaimed 'great and haughty Great Mage,' she’s a boastful show-off. She’s obsessed with being the eldest in the party and seizes every opportunity to act the part of the superior. She absolutely hates people who don't respect their elders, people who judge others by their appearance, bell peppers, onions, and anything bitter.
...But that’s just my master’s public persona.
In reality, the master I know is just an ordinary girl. Her preference for elderly speech and her 'older sister' act are the results of her desperate efforts to look the part of a 'Great Mage' so that people won't look down on her. The real master speaks like a normal girl, using feminine sentence endings like 'nano' and 'damon,' and refers to herself as 'watashi.' She isn't actually that mentally tough; she gets depressed and cries just like anyone else.
In fact, back during the fight with the Life Reaper, she completely lost her mind and wailed like a child.
Despite her 'elder' act, she is a sensitive girl of her actual age.
So, how does a girl that sensitive perceive the reality of me nearly dying and losing an eye and a leg? Looking at how the color had drained from her face and how her small fingertips were trembling, the answer was painfully obvious.
"Are you truly, truly all right? Are you in pain anywhere? If anything feels wrong, you must not endure it—you must tell me at once! If anything else happens to you, I-I-I..."
My stomach screamed in agony.
"I'm really okay. I'm sorry for worrying you."
It would have been nice if I could have said something clever to comfort her, but unfortunately, I don’t have those kinds of social skills. Ever since being born as 'Wolka,' my communication problems have only gotten worse. My facial muscles are always stiff, leaving me with a perpetually blunt and unfriendly expression.
I hate having zero social skills.
"Whatever could it be? Do you need water? Or are you hungry? I shall fetch whatever you require..."
"No..."
I hesitated. If I told her the truth—that I was trying to go for a walk—I’d likely get a massive scolding: "Stay in bed, you stupid apprentice!" On the other hand, a grown man claiming he just fell out of bed while half-asleep wasn't much better.
Realizing I couldn't dodge the question, I went with the truth.
"...I felt like my left leg was still there."
"..."
"I just tried to stand up the way I always do. That’s all."
She might look at me with pity or confusion, but I had to say it. My top priority was my stomach, which was currently twisting into knots. A cold reaction from her would be a hundred times better than putting a further burden on her mental state.
At least, that was the plan.
"I... see. To think your leg is gone... it must be impossible to believe..."
"Eh?"
"And your right eye, too! Forgive me! Forgive me, Wolka!"
My stomach was officially doomed.
"You don't have to apologize, Master."
"How can I not?! Wolka, are you not sad?! With those injuries, you cannot even... even hold a sword anymore!"
She asked me through her tears, and I took a moment to consider it. It was certainly a cruel thing to lose an eye and a leg at seventeen, but I felt strangely calm.
That was likely because...
"I never expected to survive in the first place."
"What...?"
"I protected my comrades, and I kept my life. Right now, I just feel relieved."
Because I knew the original plot, and because I knew I was meant to die there, simply winning and surviving felt like more than enough. Maybe it was just the dream-like euphoria of having escaped death.
So, you see, there’s no need to take it so hard—
"Eh? Ah... I-I’m sorry... I’m so sorry! It was my fault for accepting that quest! I couldn’t do anything, I was useless, and now Wolka... Wolka is the only one who has to suffer like this!"
"H-Hey..."
Why?! Stop crying! We all survived, isn't that great?! Losing an eye and a leg is a bargain! It was supposed to be a horrific annihilation ending!
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"Master? Master..."
Comforting a wailing girl was a task beyond my capabilities. In the end, I could only endure the agonizing stomach pain until she finally cried herself out.
My gut. My guuuuuut.
Roughly ten days ago, after Wolka’s life-sacrificing battle had ended and the dawn sky heralded a new day...
"His life has been saved. However... his left leg has been amputated. And his right eye will never reflect light again."
The moment the old sister of the Chryscles Holy Church delivered the news, Lieselalte’s world shattered. A sense of loss, as if her entire center had been carved out, washed over her. Her vision blurred, and before she knew it, she had slumped to the floor.
She had believed it would be all right. She was certain that with the high-level Holy Magic the Church was famous for, Wolka’s wounds could be healed. For half a day since rushing into the church, she had prayed without a drop of water or a moment of sleep, fighting back waves of nausea—only for the beautiful dawn to cast her into the abyss.
"That... can't be," Yulitia whispered, her voice trembling as if it were about to break. "Why? What about the treatment?"
"The procedure was entirely successful," the old sister replied, her voice heavy with the grief of her own helplessness. "It is only because it was successful that we have reached this outcome."
The sister continued. "It was all we could do just to keep him alive. He was reckless."
"This boy's left leg... even after it was nearly severed, he must have used mana to force it to move. I have no idea how he managed it, but it was certainly not a way magic should ever be used. The wound was scorched, and the bone... it was a terrible sight."
"..."
"It is true that Holy Magic can reattach severed limbs. But only when the damage to the wound is extremely minimal. This boy's injury was nowhere near that category."
The sister's words echoed hollowly in Liesel’s mind.
"His right eye, as well... the wound was too deep. It must have been a very large blade. We won't know if he’s truly lost his sight until he wakes, but..."
The sister swallowed the rest of the sentence. It was a silent warning: Don’t have hope. It will only make it more painful.
"When you’ve been a sister as long as I have, you can tell at a glance whether treatment will be in time or not. I'll only say this now that he’s stable, but at first... I truly thought he wouldn't make it. His wounds were that severe."
"..."
"It is a miracle he survived at all. For now, be grateful for that."
It was impossible. She couldn't be grateful. Anyone who could be happy after hearing that would have to be insane.
Because Wolka had lived for the sword since he was a child. He was a swordsmanship idiot who claimed he had no talent for anything else.
If you took his right eye and his left leg... even if his life was saved, he would—
"!"
The first one to break was Atri. Unable to process the reality, she turned away and fled the church like a child running from a nightmare.
It was an act of pure escape. Having come from a foreign land with a unique background, she had an almost abnormal obsession with protecting her comrades. For someone like her, to be protected by the person she was supposed to guard—and to have him lose an eye and a leg in the process—the despair must have been unbearable.
"Ah! L-Liesel-san!"
Yulitia hesitated, wondering if she should follow. By rights, Liesel was the one who should have stood up. No matter how painful it was, she had to act as the leader and support her comrades.
But Liesel couldn't move. Her body felt weightless and weak.
"Leave her to me. If you’re going after her, you should be the one to go."
At the old sister's prompting, Yulitia finally ran after Atri.
Liesel couldn't even raise her head. From above, the sister’s voice turned stern.
"Honestly... you aren't a pure human, are you? You look like a child, but you're likely the eldest here. If you don't pull yourself together, who will? That girl over there is showing much more strength than you."
It was true. From the moment they had reached the church, neither Liesel nor Atri had been able to speak. Yulitia had handled almost every interaction with the sisters. Despite being the youngest, she was far more admirable than Liesel.
How pathetic. Even though Yulitia must be in just as much pain.
"Shall I show you to his room? We can wait until tomorrow, if you prefer."
"..."
Wiping away her tears, Liesel finally looked up.
It wasn't that she had found her resolve. There was no way she could accept this reality. She knew that the moment she saw Wolka, she would break down again.
Even so, she didn't want him to be alone. She was terrified that if she wasn't by his side, he would simply vanish.