I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game-Chapter 99

The Great Lord is dead.

And not just one, but four of them.

This was an unprecedented victory, monumental and grand, a victory worthy of the term unparalleled.

Yet, no one leaving the battlefield had a smile on their face.

The unconscious Vel and Grisha, who had been guarding him, were the first to board the carriage and head towards the capital. In Grisha's eyes, there was a deep worry, something that could not possibly belong to a victorious soldier.

Despite surviving the fierce battle, the soldiers' gazes appeared hollow. They had not yet erased the image of their fallen comrades beneath the mud.

And so, a day passed.

"The King is waiting."

A young servant sent from the palace arrived with the news. It seemed that the blood and scent of the battlefield had left him a bit shaken, but his efforts to hide it were commendable. It was surprising he tried so hard to maintain that composure—though it was unnecessary.

After getting Rex and Alter into the rear compartment of the modified wagon, the servant led me into the carriage.

The wagon jolted. The wheels groaned faintly, scraping over the broken road.

The dark, muddy ground gradually grew distant.

A breeze blew from somewhere.

Flags fluttered in the wind.

The flags too, were getting farther away.

"......"

Lir and I didn’t speak a word inside the carriage. It wasn’t that there was a reason, but simply... there was nothing to say.

Soon, the surrounding scenery began to turn green. The horses shook their heads at the fresh, sweet scent in the air.

"All units, stand at attention!"

The booming voice of the red hammer, Belua, reached my ears as I was staring blankly at the inside of the carriage.

"Salute to the glory of the Empire!"

The sound of soldiers lining up followed. The heavy stomp of their boots pounding the ground was deafening.

I slowly turned my head to follow the command.

Before me, dwarves, some elves, and humans stood in formation along the supply route.

"From the 3rd Division of the Imperial Army, the Black Hammer Squad salutes the General of the United Empire!"

"LOYALTY!"

At Belua's words, the soldiers raised their hands in unison, their palms touching their eyebrows.

It was hot.

I couldn’t understand why the Achilleptus forest zone was so hot and humid.

"...Loyalty."

I raised my hand in response to those standing outside the window.

"Eh?"

At the far end of the formation, I spotted someone wearing a neat uniform.

With shiny golden hair and long, narrow ears, his race was easily identifiable.

"Honestly, I thought you'd be dead, kid."

It was Trian. He stepped a little ahead of the line, standing close to the roadside as if waiting for something.

"It's dangerous, please return to the formation..."

"Leave him."

I cut off the servant's words and halted him.

"Do you remember what I said? If you come back alive, I’ll let you have one shot at me?"

Trian’s voice grew louder.

I couldn’t help but laugh, and Lir followed, smiling in response to my laughter.

"I’m the kind of guy who keeps my word. I’ll give you the chance."

I leaned out of the window, and the servant stopped the horses accordingly.

Trian was standing before the window. After briefly scanning the dim carriage, he carefully stepped out and ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) met my eyes.

"How does it feel to be a victor?"

"Feels like crap."

I spoke my honest feelings right there.

Though I had killed four Great Lords, the scene in Vallerand had hardly changed. The bones and flesh still lay hidden beneath the mud, the wounded groaned, and there were some whose spirits had been broken.

The battlefield hadn’t stopped being a battlefield, despite the absence of active combat.

Those who were searching for their fallen comrades beneath the mud, the wounded soldiers crying out for help, and those who couldn’t sleep—whether you win or lose, the battlefield was still the battlefield, and the victory didn’t feel like a victory.

"...Yeah. War sucks."

I clenched my left fist and lightly struck Trian on the chest. Trian stood straight, maintaining his posture.

"Let’s go."

I leaned out of the window again and signaled the servant to move the horses forward.

"...Loyalty."

As the horses took a step forward, Trian whispered in a small voice. I turned my head back, unsure if I had heard him correctly, but there he was, his hand raised in a salute.

"......"

I stared at Trian, who was respectfully saluting me. Due to my right arm being incapacitated, I couldn’t return the salute, which made the silence between us even more uncomfortable.

A dumb thought crossed my mind: Should I salute with my left arm?

Before I could act on it, the servant broke the awkward silence by cracking his whip toward the horses.

The carriage soon left the Achilleptus forest zone. Trian didn’t lower his arm until he became a small dot in the distance.

‘...I should have just told him to rest.’

What a foolish mistake.

When I arrived at the castle, the first thing I did was throw off my robe.

It was stained with sweat, blood, and mud, and the smell was unbearable.

I walked straight to my room.

I knew I was supposed to report in, but I just wanted to wash off. I wanted to get rid of the awful smell that clung to my body.

Removing the soiled clothes wasn’t easy. My already pitiful body, with my right arm completely ruined, made the task even harder. It took me over ten minutes to get out of the robe and clothes.

Finally, I managed to get into the bath before the water cooled. The hot water washed away all the dirt and grime from my body.

Drops of water formed on the ceiling of the steamy bathroom.

"...It’s hot."

I stayed in the tub until my body turned a bright red from the heat, almost as if I wished I could melt away into the water. freёwebnoѵel.com

I sat there, realizing that if I didn’t get out soon, it would be a real problem.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally felt clean enough to open the bathroom door. The moment I stepped out, the world seemed to spin, and up and down seemed to shift without warning.

Without properly drying myself, I collapsed onto the bed.

I had no confidence in standing up.

And then, the memory of that day faded away.

The cost of not cleaning myself properly and losing consciousness was steep. Exposed to the cold autumn air for several hours, I caught a severe cold.

The servant told me my temperature had spiked to nearly 40 degrees at one point. I felt cold throughout my body, and breathing was difficult, but strangely, there was no pain.

I lay in bed for almost two days.

Because of this, I was excused from reporting to the kings.

During that time, Lir stayed by my side, changing towels and wiping my sweat.

The only time she left was to briefly check on Alter’s condition.

On the morning of the third day, my fever had gone down considerably. Though I still had slight symptoms of a cold, it was enough to go back to my daily routine.

I made tea and coffee while waiting for Lir. She had gone out to check on her teacher before having breakfast.

An hour passed.

Lir still hadn’t returned. I was starting to feel uneasy, wondering if something had happened, and I grabbed the door handle.

Just then, the door opened on its own, and Lir entered, her face flushed.

"...You’re up."

Tears were clearly visible on her cheeks.

It had progressed much faster than expected. They had predicted it would take more than two weeks, but it was far quicker than anticipated.

I followed Lir to check on Alter. He was lying in bed, surrounded by priests and doctors.

When Alter saw us enter, he smiled brightly.

Lir rushed to her teacher’s side and began chattering away about everything that had happened. Alter gently patted her head with trembling hands.

It was a heartwarming scene, but soon, one of the doctors came over to whisper in my ear, asking if we could talk for a moment.

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I held the door to the still-open room and walked out into the hallway.

"What’s the matter?"

"...It’s about Alter’s leg."

The doctor expressed his regrets before explaining Alter’s condition.

When found by the Sword Saint, Alter had been caught in a massive storm created by Maltiell, with both legs shattered and burns covering his body.

Despite his age, he had an impressive recovery rate, and with the help of the Saint, he regained consciousness quickly, but now, Alter’s legs were showing serious aftereffects.

"Aftereffects? How severe is it?"

"Considering his age... he will likely not even be able to walk, let alone run."

"...What?"

"Rehabilitation can only be done for 15 minutes a day. If he pushes himself, it could worsen his condition. He must stay in bed until the 30th of this month."

Tinnitus.

The annoying ringing in my ears pierced through.

Alter spent 23 hours of every day in bed.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. He spent an hour out of bed, which was too much.

The doctor had said he needed complete rest until the 30th of this month.

But every time he ate, he insisted on sitting at the table to eat, and he tried to spend at least ten minutes each day sitting at a desk reading.

When Lir or I suggested he could just read in bed, he made excuses, claiming that for scholars, a desk was their second battlefield.

Alter was well aware of the state of his legs.

Despite the warnings from the doctor and the priest, Alter refused to listen.

By the fourth night, Alter forced himself out of bed, and by the fifth morning, he had started doing rehabilitation on his own, leaning on the walls of the hallway.

He couldn’t even walk a meter before collapsing, yet each time, he struggled to rise, using his cane as support.

Without help from anyone.

Seeing that, I teased him, saying, "That’s the walk of a man his age."

Lir responded coldly to my joke, but Alter laughed loudly, making the hallway echo.

"You always act like a sly fox, but when it comes to saying the cold truth, you're not used to it."

Alter leaned against the wall and turned his head toward me.

His face was covered in cold sweat, but his eyes still gleamed with resolve, and his hands were strong.

"...It seems like old age has finally caught up to me. I’m spouting nonsense."

"When it’s time, just say it plainly."

There was a hint of faint pity in his eyes.

Pity? The one with ruined legs, who needs pity?

"..."

I was at a loss for words, staring at him blankly.

Alter didn’t rush me, just standing there waiting, giving me time to prepare my response.

How long had it been? Ten minutes?

No, maybe less than 30 seconds. In such a heavy, awkward silence, a second can feel like ten.

"...It’s time to retire."

Breaking the heavy silence, I finally spoke up.

"I refuse."

Alter replied without hesitation.

...The way he answered so decisively made me feel foolish for having spent so long pondering my words.

That stubborn old man! Why couldn’t he think about the other person’s perspective?

"You can’t return to the battlefield with those legs."

"Of course not in this state, but the rehabilitation won’t take more than a month."

"Even with good rehabilitation, you won’t escape using a cane."

"The doctor and the priest said the same thing. But aren’t there exceptions in this world?"

"..."

Lir quietly tugged at Alter’s robe, her gaze full of concern.

She seemed to feel the same way, watching her teacher—who was like a father to her—struggling.

"Stop talking nonsense. This isn’t like you, Alter."

"Heh heh, this old man is really stubborn! I can’t grant that request."

Alter’s eyes still shone brightly.

When I met his gaze, I briefly wondered if he could actually recover his legs completely.

Maybe Alter Heindel could show a miracle after all?

...No.

I couldn’t place my hopes in such vague expectations.

"Retire, Alter. Let the young ones handle the battlefield, and focus on training Lir and me."

This was the reality.

Someone had to stop this spirited old man.

If not, he’d wear out his legs under the guise of rehabilitation, only to reach a point where even with a cane, he wouldn’t be able to walk.

And then, in the end, he’d live the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Leaving him to believe in a miracle would ultimately be killing him.

"The probability of Alter’s legs returning to normal is virtually zero. He’s old, and his injuries were far from minor. The fact that he survived is a miracle."

"I can’t rest easily, sending only these immature disciples into battle. Lir and Bin don’t even have half the discipline they should have."

"...Alter deserves to rest."

"Rest for someone like me is poison. In a world where battles are still being fought somewhere on this continent, a life of greeting sparrows sitting on trees doesn’t suit the man standing before you."

"..."

Damn it, that look again.

"How can an old man who’s done everything still give me that look?"

"Done everything? What do you mean? The wall of the 9th Circle still stands before me. And when I reach the 9th Circle, I’ll challenge the wall of the 10th Circle. I still have a long way to go."

This old man had the eyes of a boy.

Those eyes still looked toward dreams not yet realized, and they sparkled with the willingness to risk anything.

"Being unable to walk is nothing. What’s truly frightening is not even trying to take a step toward the miracle."

The old man before me was a boy, an explorer, and an unrelenting seeker of knowledge.

And he was a mage.

"...I’ll wait. Fix your legs, quickly."

The only thing I could say to Alter Heindel was that.