Who was it that said injuries don’t hurt much when you first get them, but the pain grows as time passes? Luke had heard many comrades share that sentiment, but he never related. It was just one of those things he thought of as someone else’s experience, nothing more.
Why? Because he’d never gone through it himself. Yet, here he was, ironically learning the truth of those words only after leaving behind his life as a soldier.
"Theo, that bastard—I’m going to kill him," Luke muttered darkly.
The head medic, who was tending to Luke’s injuries, flinched at the venom in his voice. The name Theo was one he knew all too well, and although he assumed Luke was joking, the glare in his eyes and the palpable menace in his tone made the threat feel disturbingly real.
Besides, Luke’s reputation had long since reached other branches.
Luke, formerly of the Imperial Army Headquarters.
He was known as an obsessive achiever, someone who would do whatever it took to accomplish his goals, even if it meant employing unsavory methods. A man of ambition, utterly unconcerned with the judgments of others. Though it was said he’d left the military, no soldier was unaware of his rivalry with Theo, the current Supreme Commander.
"I’m not letting that damn bastard off the hook," Luke growled again.
When someone with Luke’s reputation muttered something so sinister, it was hard not to take it seriously.
"Who’s the damn bastard?" came a sudden voice from outside the infirmary. Luke, still seething, and the medic, who was growing increasingly uneasy, both turned toward the source. Leaning casually against the doorframe was Theo. The medic immediately shot to his feet, saluting.
Theo waved it off dismissively. "So? Who’s the damn bastard?"
Luke shot him a venomous look as Theo approached and sat down beside him.
"Why, curious?" Luke snapped.
"Yeah."
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"Who else? You, you bastard."
Without hesitation, Luke reached out with his uninjured hand, aiming straight for Theo’s collar. Theo, with his impeccable reflexes, leaned back just enough to evade the grab.
"Annoying," Luke hissed, his eyes wide with frustration as he glared at Theo. The medic, standing nearby, could only stare in stunned silence. It was as if he were witnessing some impossible event.
This was Theo Redrick. The second-highest graduate of the military academy, commander of the elite First Division, and the youngest Supreme Commander in history—a paragon of military excellence. Yet here was Luke, nonchalantly trying to grab Theo by the throat and glaring daggers at him. For the medic stationed in a branch infirmary, this was an utterly surreal scene.
"Calm down. You’ll reopen your wounds," Theo said evenly.
"Calm down? Do I look like I’m about to calm down?"
"Fine. After you’re done with treatment, grab my collar or whatever else you want," Theo replied with a smirk.
"Don’t make me laugh. Whose fault do you think all of this is?" Luke snarled, and this time, he managed to seize Theo’s collar. He gave a half-hearted shake, but Theo’s solid frame didn’t budge an inch. Luke, still in the middle of treatment, didn’t have the strength to pull it off.
"So, how is he?" Theo asked the medic, seemingly unfazed by Luke’s hold. In fact, he almost looked resigned.
"Ah, well," the medic began, faltering slightly at the absurdity of the scene. "His injuries are numerous, but aside from his shoulder and right hand, none of them are severe. The shoulder wound is deep, but there’s no sign of infection. As long as he avoids overexertion for a while, it should heal well enough."
The medic hesitated before continuing, glancing nervously between Theo and Luke. His hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. Luke, grumbling in pain and frustration, was silenced when Theo casually clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Mmph—"
"Go on," Theo said calmly.
The sight was almost comical—Luke still gripping Theo’s collar, Theo holding Luke’s mouth shut. Theo didn’t seem to be using much force, but it was enough to keep Luke’s complaints muffled.
"The problem is his right hand," the medic said finally.
Luke’s expression darkened. His right hand, now neatly bandaged, had already been a source of suspicion.
"Is it corrupted?" Luke asked, swatting Theo’s hand away from his face.
The medic nodded slowly. "It appears to have been infiltrated by impure mana..."
It wasn’t entirely unexpected. Tracing back, the first instance had been during the war with Memvern.
At that time, during a confrontation with one of Memvern’s hired necromancers, Luke’s right palm had been pierced by the necromancer’s dagger. Even then, he’d noticed an unsettling black aura seeping from the wound, its mana carrying a subtly off-kilter resonance.
But he hadn’t had the luxury to dwell on it then. He’d been preoccupied with clashing against Theo, dealing with Theo’s appointment as Supreme Commander, and planning his next steps. The wound had been treated by the medics at headquarters, and neither they nor Luke had detected anything unusual.
In hindsight, it seemed likely that the amount of impure mana had been minimal, and Luke’s naturally strong mana flow had been gradually purifying it over time. If left alone, it might have resolved entirely. But the recent battle had complicated things.
The necromancer he’d faced this time must have sensed the remnants of corrupted mana in Luke’s hand and amplified it directly. While the first necromancer had been more dangerous in skill and techniques, the sheer volume of mana from this one had been far greater.
"We’ve been trying to purify it, but we’re unable to remove it beyond a certain point," the medic explained.
The invasion of impure mana was not an uncommon occurrence. Monsters, by their nature, often carried harmful mana that could infiltrate a human’s body during battle and accumulate. However, the military medical corps’ purification magic usually resolved such issues with ease. While being tainted by evil forces wasn’t pleasant, it was rarely a significant concern.
"So, what does this mean?" Theo asked, his expression serious from the moment he’d entered the infirmary.
"If the wounds heal properly, there shouldn’t be any immediate issues with using his hand or mana. But in the long term, problems could arise," the medic explained.
Luke’s body had absorbed a notable amount of impure mana. If he were to activate his mana to use magic, the corrupted energy could circulate along with it, exacerbating the invasion and spreading further into his body.
"If he doesn’t use mana, will the condition stop worsening?" Theo leaned forward, his tone sharp with urgency.
"In theory, yes. But in practice, it wouldn’t make much difference. A mage’s body is fundamentally different from an ordinary person’s. Even when inactive, their mana flows faintly within them," the medic added cautiously, explaining that while the issue became more severe during battle, it didn’t mean mana was completely dormant when not in use.
"So, what you’re saying is, over time, I won’t be able to use my hand?" Luke interjected, his tone tinged with frustration.
"I can’t say for certain... but it’s a strong possibility," the medic admitted.
"Is there a way to purify it?" Theo pressed.
"My purification magic isn’t entirely effective in this case. I’d recommend seeking out a specialist capable of more advanced techniques," the medic replied, his tone apologetic.
Luke nearly snapped at the medic for such a vague and unsatisfying answer but held his tongue. Deep down, he had suspected as much. Reflecting on everything, he realized part of the blame lay with himself. The wound from the war with Memvern hadn’t been properly attended to or monitored afterward, a carelessness that was now catching up to him.
He nodded curtly and left the infirmary, his expression unreadable.
"Luke."
Hearing Theo call out to him from behind, Luke sighed heavily, turning back to face him.
"Gods, I should’ve never agreed to help you. Look at this mess."
"..."
As Luke shook his head, grumbling, he noticed Theo’s uncharacteristic silence. Glancing at him, Luke saw Theo’s head bowed slightly, his brows furrowed as though he were troubled. His expression was... strange, almost childlike, like someone being scolded for doing something wrong.
It was such an absurd sight that Luke had an equally absurd thought. Could it be that Theo—the Theo—was feeling guilty?
"...I’m sorry. This is largely my fault," Theo said suddenly, his voice unusually soft and subdued, like a drenched cat left out in the rain.
Luke blinked, momentarily stunned. He had been blaming Theo in the infirmary out of frustration from the pain, but he hadn’t expected Theo to take it to heart.
"Hey, it’s not like..." Luke began, fumbling for words. He hadn’t meant his complaints seriously—half of it was meant to tease Theo. Seeing Theo respond like this, looking genuinely regretful, was almost worse than the injury itself.
"Look, it’s not entirely your fault. But it’s not entirely mine either. I’m the one who fought, and I’m the one who got hurt."
Luke’s words weren’t meant to comfort Theo, but they came across that way. He sighed internally, realizing the absurdity of the situation. He was the injured party, yet here he was consoling the one who felt guilty about it.
"Don’t you remember the academy motto? Responsibility in combat lies solely with the one facing the enemy," Luke added, referencing the lesson drilled into cadets at the military academy.
Honestly, he had expected Theo to be the one reassuring him. Instead, he’d been roped into playing the role of comforter. It was ridiculous.
"And besides, it’s not like I’m completely clueless about how to handle this," Luke muttered.
"What do you mean?" Theo asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Commander."
Before Luke could respond, a voice called out from the end of the corridor. It was Kalon, striding toward them with purpose.
"The interrogation preparations are complete," Kalon informed Theo, referring to the questioning of the key suspect in the case.
"I’ll be there shortly," Theo replied. Kalon nodded and turned back toward the interrogation room.
Luke suddenly grabbed Theo’s arm, stopping him.
"Theo. I’m going to that interrogation too," Luke said firmly.