Chapter 82: Ingrid
Prosthetic limb?
Rast was momentarily stunned.
Based on his experience at Starfall University, an injury as severe as a severed arm was not considered an incurable lifelong disability in a world where supernatural powers existed.
Both the “Fertility” and “Forest” sequences possessed abilities for healing wounds and physical regeneration by the mid-tier stages.
Even within the Nightblades, there were no shortage of support-type Nightblades specializing in limb regeneration.
There were also healing-type alchemical elixirs.
Rast had once lost his large eyeball in the Nightworld, and his body had been burned to a half-skeleton—yet Starfall University had forcibly dragged him back from the grip of death using various Nightblades and alchemical potions.
Given Ingrid’s current status within the Empire’s military, healing her own severed limb should not have been difficult.
“It’s not what you think.”
Perhaps noticing Rast’s pause, Ingrid gave a slight smile.
“The military’s special envoy train won’t arrive for a few more minutes. Since we’re idle anyway, would you mind chatting with me for a bit?”
“Consider it a small test from your senior.”
Rast nodded.
Naturally, he had no reason to refuse.
Setting aside the case of the enigmatic Dean Silver —whose exact rank remained unclear and whose Nightblade was inexplicably absent from the The Fool’s Library panel—
Ingrid, who had reached the sixth tier and was but one step from attaining the status of legend, was the strongest individual Rast had ever met—stronger even than Shiltina and Akxia.
Of course, the leap from tier six to legend was like crossing a chasm; though it appeared to be only one step, it had trapped countless people for their entire lives, rendering it nearly impossible to surpass.
To this day, it remained uncertain whether any legends still lived on the continent at all.
Even so, reaching tier six and serving as the Director of the Supervision Bureau… Ingrid had already stepped into the upper echelons of the present world, gaining access to secrets known only to those of such standing.
Even casually sharing a few of these secrets could be a great help to Rast.
For instance, if not for her assistance this time, neither Shiltina nor all of Starfall University could have helped Rast find clues about “Canaan.”
“Rast, have you studied the relationship between the soul and the body in terms of mysticism?”
Hearing Ingrid’s question, Rast nodded.
His Tower sequence focused on the enhancement of the soul, and during his recovery in the campus hospital, he had used the smart terminal to cram related theoretical knowledge.
“From what I’ve learned, the body can be understood in layman’s terms as the vessel that carries the soul.”
“A normal person’s soul and body are unified, so there’s naturally no problem… But if the soul and body become mismatched, then soul interference with the body can occur—and vice versa.”
This was also why, in this world, one rarely encountered the kind of old monsters who cackled and said things like “Heheh… what a young body.”
Those ancient, decayed souls corrupted over time—even if they seized a young body through possession, the fresh body would begin to rot the instant it was possessed due to the interference of the aged soul.
Likewise, Rast had chosen to delete most of his extraneous memories and, as if clinging to a lifeline, set the dream of becoming a Shorekeeper as the anchor of his soul.
He had permanently locked his mental state at seventeen through hypnotic suggestion for the very same reason.
If he hadn’t done that, his soul would have long since weathered away over the three hundred years.
Even after escaping the cycle, he would still have appeared no different from a weary, elderly man.
“Exactly.”
Ingrid nodded.
She turned her wrist, lowered her gaze, and slowly removed the black spider-silk glove.
She revealed a prosthetic limb that looked lifelike, yet emitted a silver-gray metallic sheen, with faintly visible mechanical gears turning at the joints.
“My hand was lost for similar reasons.”
“During a mission I carried out shortly after joining the Supervision Bureau as an inspector, I overused my Nightblade for too long, resulting in permanent damage to my soul.”
“That damage, reflected from soul to body, manifested in my right hand… Even if supernatural methods could regrow the limb, it would rapidly rot and decay in a short time. In the end, I had no choice but to use a prosthetic.”
“Fortunately, this mechanical limb crafted by an artisan works well enough. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
…
“That old man at the academy warned you ages ago that your method of using your Nightblade was dangerous—extracting power directly from the soul… best case, you shorten your lifespan; worst case, you suffer permanent disability.”
“So you didn’t listen to a single word of his kind advice back then.”
The Dean Silver had silently reappeared on Rast’s shoulder.
It hadn’t spoken until now, but at this moment, it coldly watched Ingrid before them.
This was the first time Rast had seen the Dean Silver wear such a cold expression.
In the past, it had always either acted cute or lain flat with a lazy attitude, no matter who it faced at the academy.
“Sorry, but I had no choice, Dean Silver.”
Ingrid slipped her black stocking glove back on, hiding the gleaming steel prosthetic.
Her face was calm. “My Nightblade, 『Iron Shade』, is rated by the Ruins Institute as the most mediocre class. Unlike those favored by fate who can rise to prominence solely on their powerful Nightblades—”
“I, unlike Shiltina or other students, do not have a distinguished background. Even if they gave up becoming a Night Wanderer, they would still have a fallback.”
“But I had nothing—no connections, and no desire to rely on powerful backers to climb the ranks.”
“All I could depend on… was my own desperation.”
“If I hadn’t achieved merit during that mission, I never could have secured a foothold in the faction-riddled military, let alone climbed to my current position.”
The Dean Silver did not respond.
It merely lowered its voice again. “For power… for status…”
“To sacrifice all of this… is it really worth it?”
Ingrid smiled slightly. “I know what you truly hope, Dean Silver. You want me to answer like Shiltina did—”
“That I joined the Supervision Bureau, became a police commissioner, and risked my life for that merit all to uphold social order, so that the people could live in peace…”
“But in truth, you already know… that’s not it.”
She tilted slightly and gazed toward the distant hillside behind her, where the Starfall Obelisk could barely be seen.
“The reason I fought so desperately to do all this—”
“Was simply to claw my way upward by any means necessary.”
The whistle of the approaching train grew louder.
It was a black train, bearing the Imperial Military’s distinctive Black Eagle markings—its origins clear at a glance.
The train’s gust stirred the dead leaves piled on the platform, first sweeping them high into the air, then letting them scatter and fall.
Only Ingrid’s words remained, fading into the wind.
“There are so many people in this world who gain happiness through power and influence… So why can’t I?”
“Why can’t I possess the power to change my own fate?”