Inside the room.
Serie sat cross-legged on her chair, pointing a finger at Gut, her fingertip glowing ominously with magic.
"Go ahead—before I blast you out of this room with magic, you have at least two things to explain to me."
"Why did you come knocking on my door at night?"
"And after I clearly told you to leave, why did you barge in anyway?"
She examined her student from head to toe as she questioned him.
Gut, now obedient and docile, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the diarrhea medicine the old lady shopkeeper had given him, holding it up as proof of his intentions.
"Healing medicine for diarrhea?"
"I see..."
The scrutiny in Serie's eyes faded considerably, and even the accumulated magic on her finger dispersed into the air.
She waved a hand, signaling Gut to put the medicine away—it was no longer necessary.
Earlier, while in the bathroom, she had recalled how to cast the Healing Magic for Diarrhea, and had already applied it to herself. The folk magic had taken effect, so whether she took the medicine or not no longer mattered.
"That explains your reason."
"But why, even after I told you to leave, did you still... 'crash through the door'?"
Serie glanced at the broken door in her room and continued pressing.
"Because..."
Gut paused, carefully organizing his thoughts before answering.
"Because when you told me to leave, your tone felt off—like you were forcing something back."
"I was worried something had happened to you, so I just rushed in."
Smack.
Serie smacked her forehead with her palm, sighing in exasperation.
She could feel the sincerity in her disciple's voice. Gut hadn't lied on either count, and his actions tonight were all out of genuine concern.
As a teacher, she should've appreciated that.
But the way he showed it... was really a bit too much.
In the end, Serie told him to return to his room, while she went to the inn's front desk. After covering the cost for repairing the broken door, she also rented another room.
Thus, the minor nighttime commotion between teacher and student came to a peaceful end.
...
Two days later, around noon.
At the gates of Granat Countdom.
After spending several days in the wild, Mut stared up at the high city walls and sighed with relief.
Finally back on human lands—time for a good feast and a proper night's sleep. Once he replenished supplies and rested, he could set out again.
Looking at the Hero beside him, Mut said:
"Hero, the lord of this city, Count Granat, is close friends with my father. They fought monsters together, and when I was little, he used to carry me and take me and my brother out hunting."
"So, why don't we stay at the Count's mansion for the night? It'd also be good for him and the townsfolk to hear of your feat—driving off the Seven Sages of Destruction member, Aura the Guillotine. They'll want to thank you."
"No need for thanks."
Himmel smiled, patting Mut on the shoulder.
"I don't do these things for recognition."
"Still, I do need to meet with the Count. After Aura fled and left her puppet army..."
"Actually, Hero, you really should accept everyone's thanks—including mine,"
A deep voice cut in from the side. Mut turned and saw the speaker—it was Count Granat himself.
The Count was approaching with a few guards in tow, accompanied by someone who looked like a merchant guild administrator.
"Uncle!"
Mut waved excitedly at the Count, already fantasizing about a feast and soft bed at the manor tonight.
But the Count, upon spotting his nephew, gave a subtle nod to the guards beside him and said calmly:
"Take him."
"Yes, sir!"
The guards rushed forward. Before Mut could react, they grabbed him firmly on both sides, completely restraining him.
"Uncle! It's me, Mut!"
"Why are you having the guards arrest me?!"
Mut yelled in disbelief. Even Hero Himmel glanced over, puzzled.
The Count gave no explanation at first. He stepped beside Himmel, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed deeply in respect.
"Hero, welcome to the Countdom. I will ensure you receive the finest hospitality on behalf of all our citizens."
"Please rise, Count... but what's going on here?"
Himmel asked, glancing at the restrained Mut.
"You mean this nephew of mine?"
Count Granat pulled two letters from his breast pocket and walked over to Mut.
"These two letters were sent to me by your parents using the fastest courier."
"In one, your mother pleads with me to stop you if you pass through my territory. She asked me to have priests check your health and then arrange guards to escort you home."
"Mom..." Mut whispered.
Looks like the letter he sent from Appetit Town had arrived. His mother must've been relieved.
Still, his journey wasn't over—he couldn't stop yet.
Mut braced himself, ready to plead with his uncle to let him continue.
But before he could speak, Count Granat opened the second letter.
"This one's from your father."
"He instructed me to catch you and break your legs before sending you home."
"He's already gathered the best priests and physicians in Vorig to fix them afterward."
As he spoke, the Count gestured for the guards to hold Mut down. Looking around for a suitable weapon, he finally drew his saber—turning it so the flat of the blade faced outward.
Mut: (T＿T)
"Please... Uncle…"
"Don't break my legs..."
But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
As the Count raised the blade, even Himmel wondered if he should intervene. The blade stopped just an inch from Mut's legs.
The wind it stirred was enough to scare Mut witless.
In the end, the Count brought the blunt side down hard—on Mut's head.
Then he laughed and sheathed the blade, gesturing for the guards to release him.
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Powerstones?
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