Turning-Chapter 872

"Why are you still covering your eye like that?"

"The pharmacist said forcing movement will only delay healing, didn’t he?"

Instead of answering directly, Kishiar said that as he supported Yuder’s lower arm. Thanks to him taking on the weight of the heavy splint, the burden on Yuder's body lessened—but not the weight in his heart.

When Yuder stopped moving his fingers, Kishiar gently guided his arm back to its original position with a fluid, unhurried motion.

"......"

"It’s nothing serious. My vision just hasn’t fully returned yet. This method is less irritating than an eyepatch and offers better protection, so I’ve just kept it this way."

"...Is that really all?"

"Will you only feel reassured if you check for yourself?"

"Yes."

When Yuder answered without hesitation, Kishiar blinked in surprise. It seemed he hadn’t expected Yuder to actually say that. But then he softened, letting out a quiet chuckle and nodding.

"Alright. If you want that badly. It’s night, so a short moment should be fine."

Yuder didn’t blink once as he watched Kishiar begin to remove the bandage himself. The face revealed between the loosening wraps was no longer bloodied like the last time he’d seen it—his skin had returned to its usual smoothness.

Moments later, golden lashes slowly lifted, revealing the eye that had been hidden.

Only then did Yuder realize—the pupil in the red eye was smaller than the other. It wasn’t looking directly at him; the focus was hazy, and a faint trace of injury still remained visible.

The moment he saw that, Yuder clenched his teeth—and just like that, the eye vanished again behind its closing lid.

"There. That’s enough."

Kishiar calmly rewrapped the bandage.

"My vision will return in time, but bright light isn’t good for recovery. That’s the only reason I’ve kept it covered. Do you believe me now?"

Kishiar spoke like it was °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° nothing, but Yuder couldn’t think of it that way at all.

Soft areas like the eyes or internal organs tend to heal slower than other parts of the body. But even so, the fact that his vision hadn’t returned yet meant the injury must have been severe.

Back then, the eye had been caked with blood, so he hadn’t seen it clearly—but if it was still recovering now, then likely... the damage had extended beyond the eyelid, reaching the eyeball itself.

Just as Kishiar had said, it might heal with time. But no one could guarantee that his vision, endurance, or overall condition would return to what it once was.

Everything has a price. Healing through divine power doesn’t mean the body’s time has been completely rewound to before the injury.

Kishiar, who had never once sustained a serious external wound, had been hurt like that while shielding him. That realization weighed heavily on Yuder’s heart.

In his past life, Yuder had seen Kishiar wounded in battle—but it hadn’t felt anything like this. Back then, even on the day he died, Kishiar had somehow kept up an absurdly unbothered appearance in front of Yuder. And he’d never once thrown himself to shield Yuder during a fight like he had this time.

That wound—taken to save Yuder as he was flung by a Swordmaster’s aura—wouldn’t have happened if Kishiar hadn’t made that choice.

The heat of something boiling in his chest surged upward. Just like in that moment when he realized Kishiar had protected him, a fierce anger rose within him, wanting to explode.

But unlike back then, he couldn’t let that emotion show. Because now he knew—he wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

The red eye facing him had been staring at Yuder’s arms from the beginning.

That gaze—likely fixed on him even before he woke—carried emotions Yuder hadn’t consciously registered, but still felt clearly.

Though it was only a sliver, the intensity and vividness of it were enough to make his skin prickle. It carried the exact same turmoil Yuder himself felt. Outwardly calm and gentle as always, Kishiar’s inner state was clearly anything but.

It was ridiculous, in a way. Both of them looking at each other’s injuries, regretting actions they wished they hadn’t taken, suffering over the other’s wounds while swallowing down harsh emotions.

"......"

Yuder sighed deeply, unable to help himself. Kishiar’s eyes curved slightly as he let out a dry chuckle.

"Looks like we’re thinking the same thing."

"...Seems that way."

"Then maybe we should stop having such grim thoughts. It’s better to focus on the positives than to dwell in pain."

"An example might help me understand better."

"After several days of torment, unable to sleep from worry, today I no longer need to. Your injuries will heal. And, as I’d hoped, we’re sitting here face-to-face having a proper conversation. So it’s a good night. Don’t you think?"

"Not bad at all."

"Right?"

To an outsider, this conversation would sound utterly incomprehensible. But somehow, the mood between them relaxed significantly.

They’d had moments like this before—but now, the shift in atmosphere felt strangely unfamiliar. The rapid swings of emotion when with Kishiar, and the way Yuder accepted all of it so naturally, struck him as odd and a little amazing.

Still, Kishiar was right. It was far better to focus on the good than to be consumed by turbulent emotions.

As Yuder leaned deeper into the bed, he looked up at Kishiar’s softened smile.

"Alright then. I’ll just remember that among all the attacks I’ve ever endured, I blocked the most powerful aura I’ve ever felt with a single sword—and walked away with just this. That’s definitely worth bragging about."

"...Something to brag about?"

"Of course."

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

It wasn’t the first time he’d gone up against a Swordmaster’s aura. But never before had it destroyed both of Yuder Aile’s arms with a single strike. And not only that, the aftershock had been so extreme that even divine healing hadn’t fully restored him—one slight movement had made the fractures reopen.

Even if he hadn’t been using protective energy at the time, it was still an absurdly terrifying force. No matter how much his current life might change, it was hard to imagine facing anything more devastating than that attack.

Yuder summed it all up in a single line.

"But still, I definitely don’t want to take that aura again."

"Agreed. Neither do I."

Kishiar let out a quiet laugh.

"Well, even if we don’t want to, if something as unpredictable as last time happens again, there might not be a choice."

"True. I’ve definitely learned how different real combat can be from what you expect—and how difficult it can get."

Coming from Kishiar, those words were unexpected. Yuder was a little surprised.

"That’s why I respect you even more now. I meant to say this first thing when you woke up, but it ended up being delayed."

"Um... well."

What was he supposed to say to that? If someone else had said it, Yuder would’ve told them to quit talking and go train harder so something like that wouldn’t happen again. But this was Kishiar—a man who needed no such advice.

Honestly, in that situation, no one could’ve responded better than Kishiar had. Even Yuder didn’t know if he could’ve made a better choice.

And since Kishiar likely knew that too, saying more felt... awkward.

‘...No, seriously, this feels weird. Something’s off...’

In Yuder’s mind, Kishiar la Orr had never once seemed less capable than himself. Even with ten extra years of experience from his past life, it felt more like they were equals at best—not that he had anything to teach Kishiar.

When he thought about it, the current Kishiar did have over a decade less practical experience than him. In fact, he’d barely seen any real combat until recently.

So... yes, what Kishiar said was accurate.

‘Then why does it feel so weird to hear it?’

Maybe it was because all of Yuder’s first lessons in tactics, swordsmanship, and combat had come from Kishiar. The memory of learning everything from him was still so vivid.

In the end, Yuder found himself unusually lost for words, and just stayed silent. He had no idea how to describe the strange feeling stirring inside him. Kishiar seemed to understand, and didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a soft smile and smoothly changed the subject.

"So, about that dream. You’re not going to tell me now? The one with the white glove." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"...I’m going to tell you now."

"Judging by how urgently you looked for me, I’m guessing it said something important?"