Chapter 2: The Half-Fledged Healer

[According to our sources, the 1st Subjugation Knights altered their course after receiving an emergency report of a monster outbreak while en route to the Krehah territory. Commander Millian’s decision to place an ordinary rural village above the regular subjugation request of the high-ranking Count Krehah has earned the praise of the residents. In an era ruled by nobles and the imperial family, it has once again been proven that true heroes are those who stand with the common people.]

Opinions about Millian Godrick, commander of the 1st Subjugation Knights, were sharply divided across social classes.

The Imperial Daily, aimed at nobles, criticized him as a “reckless commander who disregards protocol,” while the Weekly News, written for commoners, praised him as a “hero” and even a “savior who will lead a new era.”

As Katarina set the newsletter down, a strange thrill lit her face.

“He really is an incredible person—your brother.”

Millian Godrick.

Before he was an imperial hero, he was the second son of the Godrick family, and Katarina’s brother-in-law.

But to her, he was something more than that.

“Someone who never passes by those in need… someone who reaches out and saves them. He’s truly admirable.”

Millian had the power to pull people out of suffering, and Katarina admired him quietly for it.

She gazed down at the illustration of Millian standing proud and heroic, then murmured softly:

“If only I could have become someone like that… how wonderful it would have been…”

Thinking of a past now faded and distant, Katarina pulled out a scripture hidden deep in the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

The leather cover was worn, the edges frayed, but it was precious—a scripture given to her by her mentor when she was learning healing arts.

After a small breath, she opened to a page of the scripture.

She placed her left hand on the sacred text, and her right hand over Magnus’s heart.

Then a healing prayer began to flow from her lips.

Gone was her usual small, wavering voice; what emerged was clear, steady, and trained—like that of a seasoned priest, carried on a rhythmic cadence.

“O divine one… please, save this man… save him…”

As her entire focus gathered at her fingertips, a faint light flickered at her hand.

But the glow dispersed like smoke, vanishing too quickly, and no miracle touched Magnus.

A familiar despair rose from the depths of her chest.

She already knew her healing abilities were broken. Every time she faced that truth, she still couldn’t stop trying, driven by the desperate wish to save him.

She already knew—her healing abilities were broken.

Every time she faced that truth, she still couldn’t stop trying, driven by the desperate wish to save him.

Then, behind her—over her shoulder—a strange sensation washed through her body.

The burning ache she had grown accustomed to melted away like a lie.

She hastily pushed up her sleeve, and the welts and wounds from her beatings healed rapidly, as though time itself was rewinding.

“…No. No…”

Her jaw trembled as it fell open.

She gripped her bruised arm as though trying to tear the healed skin apart, begging it to stop, but even the oldest scars vanished without a trace.

“No… please… stop. Please, stop…!”

In that moment, fragments of her past rose before her eyes like haunting illusions.

Nine years ago, in a winter thick with drifting snow, a crowd of territory residents swarmed the front of the carriage carrying the newly wed bride.

A man carrying his ailing mother collapsed to his knees before the restless stallion, while a woman clutching a pale newborn screamed in desperation.

One by one, people with sick loved ones rushed forward and clung to Katarina’s robes.

But Katarina could not perform a single healing miracle.

She recited the prayer again and again, held out her hands, yet nothing happened.

The man who had begged with his forehead pressed to the ground eventually rose, hurling curses as he left, but the despair-stricken woman broke past the servants restraining her and lunged at Katarina.

Her sharp nails raked mercilessly across Katarina’s arm.

Blood spurted, skin tore, and when the woman saw the mutilated flesh, a twisted pleasure flashed across her face.

“You fraud! It was all lies! You never had any healing power at all!”

And then—like a lie—the miracle happened.

The blood welling on Katarina’s arm stopped at once, and the torn flesh knitted back together.

In moments, her arm was unblemished, without even a scratch.

Dozens of eyes filled with rage, terror, and disgust stabbed into her like blades.

Katarina staggered back from those piercing gazes, then turned and fled into the castle.

From that day on, the world of territory residents who had once eagerly awaited the arrival of their “Saint of Healing” became a living hell.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Katarina wiped her reddened eyes and sank to her knees once more.

With no one left to lean on and nothing left to hold, standing at the edge of a cliff with only the abyss behind her, there was a single existence she could cling to: God—the one who had granted her heaven and hell in equal measure.

Before that merciless being, she bowed her head yet again.

But the wish she had prayed for every day was useless.

Accepting that she could no longer save anyone with her own hands, Katarina began a new prayer.

She begged for someone—anyone—who could lift this pitiful man back to his feet.

She pleaded and pleaded, over and over.

***

At the entrance to the Godrick marquisate’s territory, several carriages and warhorses rolled in.

The moment they crossed the boundary, the wheels scraped loudly over gravel, flinging small stones up against the carriage window.

Millian set down his pen and observed the scene outside.

The road ahead stretched through rows of bare, frostbitten shrubs.

Not a single living creature was in sight.

The beast-detection stones remained silent, and he sensed no animal presence—yet he still fastened his longsword to his thigh.

Opening the carriage window, Millian extended his hand to signal.

At once, one of the squad captains urged his horse forward and drew level with the carriage.

“Increase the distance between the carriages. Slow down and maintain steady speed.”

“Yes, Commander!”

But even after traveling for quite some time, the road conditions did not improve.

At one point, the carriage lurched violently—almost as if it had leapt over a boulder—before slamming back down with a crash.

“What in the world!”

The commotion jolted Liez, the Grand Captain, awake from his snoring slumber.

Seeing his superior, Millian couldn’t help a small chuckle as he offered him a handkerchief.

“For someone who’s been away from the field for so long, your reflexes are surprisingly decent.”

Liez checked his reflection in the window, wiping off drool marks while sneaking glances at Millian for his reaction.

Fortunately, his highly competent deputy, Millian Godrick, was focused solely on reviewing documents.

“When we arrive, they’ll have us running around with no rest. You should get some sleep while you can.”

“I’m fine.”

His polite yet firm refusal prompted the Grand Captain to insist again.

“Fine, what’s fine? We’ve been pushing through day and night since we left the capital, and I haven’t seen you rest your back even once.”

“I’m fine.”

It was his habit to translate stop bothering me, I’ll handle it myself into a single phrase: I’m fine.

“The Grand Captain is talking—so try listening for once!”

The Grand Captain exploded, jabbing an accusing finger at him, when a sharp ache suddenly shot across his shoulder blade.

“Ah, my aching bones!”

Only when he heard his superior groaning did Millian finally lift his head.

“Exactly. Why did an elderly gentleman drag himself back into the field?”

His flat tone made Liez’s expression twist in outrage.

“Elderly? Do you think I wanted to come back out here? I did it to save you, you fool!”

Two weeks earlier, a bizarre and utterly unprecedented order had landed on Liez’s desk.

Emergency Subjugation Order No. 45

[Operation Rank: National Confidential Level]

[Dispatched Commander: Grand Captain Liez Blackwood]

[Assigned Unit: First Beast Subjugation Corps, including Knight Millian Godrick]

A “national confidential” classification was only used when high-tier beasts appeared in large numbers.

It was strange enough that they were calling back a commander who’d been off the field for ages, but attaching the entire First Subjugation Corps?

That practically screamed catastrophe.

But the moment he read the remaining details, he had let out a hollow laugh.

[Operation Start Date: To be determined by Commander Millian]

[Operation End Date: To be determined after the Imperial Council]

[Operation Objective: Routine subjugation in Godrick territory and inspection of northern provinces]

The intention was crystal clear.

Soon, at the upcoming Imperial Council, a motion would be introduced to dismiss Millian from his post for abandoning high-priority orders and diverting to a village of commoners.

To block that, the Emperor had rebranded a routine subjugation as an “emergency operation,” effectively whisking Millian out of the capital.

It was a political smokescreen exploiting imperial law:

“If the subject of an agenda is deployed on national duty, they cannot be summoned to the council.”

“That part is unfortunate for me as well,”

 “I assumed the Grand Captain I knew would find a decent excuse to wriggle out of it.”

“If I could’ve, don’t you think I would have?!”

Liez ground his teeth, recalling the imperial order’s clause:

“Commander’s personal participation mandatory.”

“Since you’re here,”

“why not demonstrate your skills to my men? After all, you’re the one who molded the Millian Godrick they call today’s hero.”

A faint arc curved along Millian’s lips.

Liez stared blankly at his annoyingly handsome face, sinking into thought.

The Emperor’s fondness for Millian was no secret.

But for the rigid, unyielding Millian Godrick to obediently accept a forced political exile?

That was suspicious.

‘Could it be… that the Emperor has seized some terrible weakness of his?’

In that moment, the rumor that Millian Godrick was aiming for the position of the Emperor’s son-in-law flashed through his mind.