"Your Highness, please don't be angry. Perhaps our approach was too aggressive and provoked him."
The old mage, cloaked in white and standing beside Freya, spoke in a low voice.
Still seething with rage, Freya gradually calmed down.
"…You're right. We should first assess his abilities."
"This Adrian Blake is… strange. The data on the Identification Scroll—no, that's not important."
Her voice trailed off, becoming quieter and more uncertain. She shook her head, forcibly suppressing the more logical assumption in her mind.
After all, the idea that Adrian, who had only just awakened, could already be level 99—it was too absurd to accept.
And so, ignoring the more unsettling implications of the truth, Freya decided to proceed with her plan.
The next morning, she personally brought Adrian into the royal inner sanctum.
Originally, the plan was to use him gradually—to have him break the limits of her elite female knights, one by one. But now, it didn't matter. Once they had control over him, she would force him into breeding. Male or female, it didn't matter. Let them all bear the brunt of her fury.
Beneath her serene and radiant smile, Freya's thoughts churned with madness.
"Adrian," she said sweetly, gesturing, "this is Lady Kureha Glayrellette, known as the Sword Saint."
Adrian followed the direction of her hand—and found himself face to face with a vision of cold beauty.
A tall woman with flowing silver hair stood before him, a single strand rising playfully like a misplaced thought. Her features were flawless, her skin porcelain-smooth, and a tiny tear-shaped mole beneath her right eye added an irresistible allure to her expression.
She wore a crisp white shirt tucked into black trousers, her curving figure outlined by a fitted leather corset that emphasized the grace of her waist and the fullness of her chest. But what drew his gaze was the emptiness of her right sleeve, where an arm should have been.
It was like seeing an angel with a broken wing.
As Adrian quietly lamented the sight, Kureha turned toward him. Her eyes were a deep, serene blue, glimmering with a rare tenderness.
"So you're the Healing Hero—Adrian Blake?" Her voice was warm, gentle, and full of respect, so unlike the others.
Adrian responded with a genuine smile. "And I'm honored to meet you, Lady Kureha."
She inclined her head gracefully, then glanced down at the empty sleeve hanging at her side.
"I lost my arm fighting a high-ranking demon… not even the Elixir of All Life could restore it. You're my last hope."
There was hesitation in her voice—not out of distrust, but a quiet resignation. She knew how rare it was for severed limbs to be healed. But she had to try.
Adrian approached slowly, lifting his hand toward her shoulder. His fingertips touched the skin just above the stump—smooth, sensitive, strangely warm. At the first contact, Kureha's body tensed, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. Her breath caught.
He was barely touching her, and yet the sensation was overwhelming.
For a moment, her disciplined composure wavered as she gazed at him. This wasn't the look of someone examining a weapon, or a soldier—it was something far more personal.
In Adrian's mind, the system activated, flooding his vision with her status data:
Name: Kureha Glayrellette
Class: Sword Saint
Level: 45 (Advanced)
Entries:
— Sword Saint (Purple): Born with an extraordinary affinity for the sword.
— Master Swordswoman (Blue): Countless battles have engraved swordsmanship into her very flesh.
— Favored by Fate (Blue): Blessed by the currents of luck and destiny.
"So much potential," Adrian thought. "She's not inferior to the heroes—just limited by a level cap of 51."
"Restore."
The moment he spoke the word, magic surged from his hand.
A pale light enveloped Kureha's shoulder. In the blink of an eye, her missing arm regrew before their eyes—flesh, bone, muscle, nerve—all restored perfectly.
But with the magic came something else.
Pain.
Searing, unrelenting pain. Her pain.
Her battles with demons. The agony of severed limbs. The bone-deep memory of endless sword drills. It all surged into Adrian's mind like a tsunami, knocking the breath out of him.
He gritted his teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
[Ding! New Entry Acquired: Master Swordswoman (Blue)]
"Damn… now that's intense."
He forced down a groan, chest heaving. This was worse than when he fought that direwolf with nothing but a dagger and his will.
But Kureha, now staring at her restored arm, couldn't hold back her tears.
"My arm… it's back…!"
"This is incredible. It's like a miracle… I can fight again!"
"Adrian Blake… I don't know how I can ever repay you. You've given me back my sword."
She stepped toward him instinctively, placing one soft, strong arm around his waist as he staggered slightly.
The softness of her body pressed against his as she supported him.
"Adrian… are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he said, steadying himself with effort. "It's just… when I restore someone, I feel the pain they felt. All at once."
Her expression crumpled with guilt and gratitude. She bit her lip, eyes swimming with emotion.
Freya, who had been watching quietly, stepped forward with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Lady Kureha, Sir Adrian needs rest. Please give us some privacy."
Though hesitant, Kureha bowed and took her leave, glancing back at Adrian one last time before disappearing into the palace corridors.
Once she was gone, Freya turned with a snort of disdain. She walked to a quiet alcove with the old mage in tow.
"This so-called Healing Hero… what a waste. He's of no use."
But the old mage shook his head, eyes gleaming with fervor.
"No, Your Highness. This was no ordinary healing. It's something far beyond."
Freya arched a brow. "It's just powerful healing magic. What's the difference?"
The mage leaned in, whispering with excitement.
"Normal healing activates the body's natural ability to recover. It can only mend what the body could, theoretically, mend on its own."
"But Adrian's ability… he either resets time itself or reconstructs from nothing. Both are acts of divinity."
"That kind of pain he felt—it's not normal. It means he's not just healing… he's becoming the one he restores, even if for a moment."
"And if we can figure out the secret to that power… then perhaps even I…"
He didn't finish. The hunger in his eyes said enough.
"That's quite the theory, old man."
A third voice interrupted.
Freya froze.
From the shadows behind them, Adrian emerged.
He stepped forward, calm and composed, though his face was still pale. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the glass.
"I'd be careful what you wish for," he said coldly.
Freya turned, startled and speechless, as Adrian faced them both with unreadable eyes.