Ryan was breathing heavily.
He had won.
It had been a fierce battle, but in the end, he had managed to defeat that unknown being barely.
Even so, there was no sense of victory within him.
The village chief had been gravely injured. In this world, blood transfusion had not yet been discovered. Even if a compatible blood type were found, no one would know how to perform the procedure. There was nothing Ryan could do.
Letting out a deep breath, he stood up and walked toward the chief with hesitant steps. His small hand trembled as he pressed his fingers against the man's neck, over the carotid artery.
There was no pulse.
His throat went dry. He swallowed hard. Regret and fear filled him. The chief's son lay unconscious a short distance away. What would he say when the boy woke up? He didn't know.
Ryan created a transparent bubble around the village chief's body, large enough to contain a grown man. The body slowly lifted off the ground and settled inside it. A nine year old child could not possibly carry an adult man.
After that, he checked the chief's guard and his son. They were only unconscious. He placed them into separate bubbles as well.
At that moment, his eyes shifted to the creature.
It was writhing on the ground.
It didn't seem completely dead. Maybe it was just muscle reflexes… or maybe something else. But the sight filled Ryan with fear once again.
He approached slowly.
The creature forced its head up.
"Kill… me…"
The voice was hoarse, but sincere.
Ryan's heart tightened. In that moment, he realized that there had been a human inside it as a result of experiments. Only a human could make such a request with that much pain and sincerity.
He hesitated for a second.
Then he created a massive spear of water.
He drove it into the creature's abdomen.
The creature trembled briefly, then went completely still.
Ryan stood there for a while. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Then he turned his back and began walking toward the village.
When he arrived, three human sized bubbles were floating around him. The villagers stared at him in shock, whispering among themselves. Ryan ignored their gazes.
There was only a small hospital in the village, and its facilities were quite limited. He decided to take the two unconscious men there first. As for the chief's lifeless body, he initially thought of delivering it to his family… but quickly changed his mind.
He wasn't ready to say those words.
Instead, he decided it would be more appropriate to take the body to the town hall so proper funeral arrangements could be made. A death like this deserved at least a dignified ceremony.
He left the two unconscious adults at the hospital and briefly explained what had happened. When the healers saw the village chief inside the bubble, their expressions stiffened.
"What is his condition?" they asked.
Ryan lowered his head.
"He's gone."
The words saddened them deeply, but they suppressed their emotions. There were still two living people who needed attention.
Ryan left the hospital. He carried the chief's body slightly higher in the air; he didn't want people to see it immediately. Gossip spread quickly in villages.
When he entered the town hall, everyone inside froze.
A small mage in bloodstained clothes… and the village chief inside a floating bubble.
Ryan calmly explained everything. He didn't tell a single lie. His account was clear and consistent. Some doubted him, but they couldn't find any contradiction to challenge.
The fact that a nine year old child had killed such a being was beyond comprehension.
Ryan knew his business in this village was over. He had to return to the Magic Tower one last time and gather his belongings. He was planning to leave. He wanted to find his parents.
After all… a child's home is with his mother and father, isn't it?
Ryan rarely acted like a child. But that didn't change the fact that he was in the body of a nine year old.
He quietly left the town hall.
He felt sorry for the chief's family… but he didn't want to carry that burden.
As he left the village behind, his steps were surprisingly calm.
…
Priest Chris took a quill in his left hand and placed a clean sheet of paper before him. He was about to write a letter to Duke Andre of Morvanya.
He had lost his right arm seven years ago.
By now, he had grown accustomed to its absence.
The Holy Temple's economic and military support mostly came from feudal lords. Chris had a good relationship with the Duke of Morvanya, which was why he frequently borrowed money from him.
Holy Temple's debt ledger had grown enormous so much so that even great kingdoms, or even the Elf Kingdom of Elmyrion, famed for its wealth, would struggle to repay such an amount.
Yet the Holy Temple did not worry about its debts.
The feudal lords did not demand repayment; they only wanted the Holy Temple's support.
Chris dipped the quill into ink and began writing. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the scratching of the pen against paper.
After finishing the letter, he let out a quiet sigh and stood up, leaving his office.
Across from his door stood a flower pot with pink blossoms. Tending to flowers had been one of his rare habits since childhood.
A low ranking priest was walking down the corridor. When he saw Chris, he immediately bowed.
"Sir," he said respectfully,
"There is a lady here to see you."