When I asked Suhra why my face looked much younger instead of like my older self, she explained that after rescuing me and bringing me to the cabin, she found that the wound on my lower left abdomen had spread all over my body—and was worsening by the minute. She also said the aura coming from it was definitely dark magic. (Well, she's not wrong—I did get hit by some sketchy guy in a dark robe.) Instinctively, she had to act fast and heal the affected area.
The downside is that she isn't exactly great at healing magic. She told me that Healing spells are divided into multiple categories, each requiring full understanding and mastery. The magic she used was 75% complete. This was in its third stage called Livřai. She said it's fine when applied to a small area, but using it on the whole body is risky. With no other option, she chose the latter and healed my entire body—and luckily, she succeeded.
I could tell she was excited. Even though the spell was incomplete, she pulled it off flawlessly. Judging by her expression, I figured this was her first time.
Lucky me.
Then Suhra suddenly stopped cheering and looked at me.
"What is it?" I asked.
She instantly bowed repeatedly. "I'm so sorry about that—please forgive me!"
If I'm right, she was apologizing for my transformation. And yeah, I admit—I miss my older looks… but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm alive and breathing—all thanks to her magic.
"No, no, you don't have to apologize. If you hadn't done it, I'd probably be a goner," I said.
After she calmed down, I had one more question: where was my armored suit? I was sure I had been wearing it, so it couldn't have just disappeared, right?
Suhra told me to follow her, and we walked. We reached the backyard, and she pointed to a wooden barrel. I walked over and—ta-da!—there was my suit.
Well, technically… what was left of it.
"Sorry about your armor," Suhra said. "It was in the way, so I took it apart in order to heal you."
I turned to her, and we looked at each other. In that moment, her face flushed red.
"I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! I promise I didn't do anything t-to you while you were unconscious!" she stammered, bowing again.
I didn't know why she was acting like that—wait, no… I think I knew. It was kind of embarrassing. I turned away immediately.
"Don't worry about it," I said.
"Y-yes, o-okay, I'm going to see Senra..." she muttered, then quickly left.
I walked back to the wooden barrel with what remained of my armor. I hope some parts are still working, I thought, as I tipped the barrel over and watched the bits and pieces spill out.
Going through the pieces of metal made me think I'd never recover a single usable part. But—rise and behold—just as my luck was about to run dry, my fingers felt something solid among the salvageable scraps. I grabbed it and lifted it up, bits of metal clattering off as I did.
I couldn't believe it.
It was the item Tetson gave me—and in perfect condition, still attached to the belt, of course.
But it didn't stop there. I kept searching through the wreckage of my armor, and to my surprise, I found even more. The chip cartridges, sealed in metal casings, were responsive. I pulled one out and checked it.
"All good. Thank goodness," I muttered.
Another part I recovered was from the left gauntlet. It was damaged beyond recognition—but I wasn't going to let it go. The gauntlet itself wasn't what I needed. Because of the damage, it was useless. What I did want was the device embedded in it. So, I ripped it out with my right hand. The device was shaped like a rectangular phone—compact, but valuable.
Then, something caught my eye—a glint of light from within the pile. I dug deeper through the broken armor and pulled out something unbelievable: my headset. It was partially damaged and clearly worn, but I had hope. I slipped it over my head—and, wouldn't you know it, it worked. Lights flickered to life inside.
The next couple of minutes passed in silence as I got straight to work. Not "repairing"—no, that wasn't the right word. "Fixing" was more like it. To actually repair all of my armor, I'd need an abundance of rare materials—resources I just didn't have.
So, in the worst of times, I did what any man would do: Use what you've got.
I sat down and pulled a few wires from the headset, connecting them to the adaptive belt along with a chip cartridge I manually inserted. I'm not trained in the art of a technician, but I've got to give it to Tetson—after all the times I damaged my armor and watched him repair it, I picked up a few tricks. Thanks, man.
Next, I wired the adaptive belt's cables to the suit's battered chest plates. There was still some nano material left, and no better place to find protection than the chest plates. I slipped the headset on once again—this was it.
With a few voice commands, the headset sent signals to the adaptive belt, which read the chip cartridge's info and processed it, then relayed signals to the nano material. It reacted exactly as it should. To function, the nano material tapped into the suit's remaining power—just enough to move, and more importantly, to create.
Create what, exactly?
For me, it was a simple tool—but a complex one at that. It only took 30 seconds for the process to complete. What was it, you might ask? I'll show you.
I grabbed the finished tool, holding it in one hand—my right—like a gun. Then, I slotted another chip cartridge into a nearly fitting compartment on the side.
In my line of work, this fascinating device had been my go-to before I ever got the adaptive belt. It was incredibly useful back then, and now, I needed it more than ever. But this version? Upgraded. Integrated with the adaptive suit's systems.
Still wearing the headset, the tool synced via Bluetooth.
Inside the display, I opened a folder stored within the chip cartridge. It contained hundreds of data packs on various subjects. The one I was after: Nano Repair. I selected it—and the tool in my hand powered up, ready for use.
First, I needed nano material. I stripped some leftover parts from the suit and fed them into the tool. Then I used it to create a strong, flexible fitting for my left arm. Once it was done, I slid it on and placed the rectangular-shaped device—like a phone—onto the fitting. It embedded itself into the metal surface as if it knew exactly where it belonged.
Next on the repair list: the headset, the adaptive belt, and a compact fabricator shaped like a small cylinder.
~~~~~~
28 minutes later, and Suhra still hadn't heard a word from—ah, yeah, she realized—she never got his name.
Then, she smelled something.
Burning.
"Sister, what's that over there?" Senra asked.
Suhra turned around—and froze.
"—Fire!" she exclaimed.
Panic set in. Suhra bolted toward the backyard, Senra following close behind.
When they arrived, smoke filled the air. Amid the fire stood a man. He turned around slowly from where he faced the flames—and Suhra saw him.
There was no face.
The man stepped closer. His helmet let out a soft hiss—pssshhh—and then retracted. The mysterious figure revealed himself.
It was Dennis.
He extended his right hand toward her. "We never properly introduced ourselves—I'm Dennis Rynbart."
Without hesitation, Suhra reached out and shook his hand.
This time, she offered her full name. "Suhra—Suhra Aerendyl."
After the whole fire incident, I told Suhra and Senra it wasn't anything serious—just needed a few things deleted from the face of the earth. But then Suhra approached me and said they were about to leave. She also mentioned I could tag along with them.
The first elves I ever met wanted me dead. Now her and Senra—I agreed!
There wasn't much to think about. I had no idea where I was, or what I should be doing. The best move? Lay low. Stick with a group. Don't get caught.
Smart? Yes.
Risky? Still unsure.
While packing up in the cabin, I came across a leather jacket with fur trim. I took it—well, borrowed it. Fit just fine.
And just like that, as if it were the start of a brand new day, we headed out—me, following two elven siblings toward whatever came next.