Chapter 216
Along the northwestern main road, near the guild headquarters, a gentle young voice recited her spell chant.
Like a hymn or sacred scripture, the words flowed seamlessly, imparting a sense of peace to all who listened.
“In the name of all that is holy... be healed. Dia Frater!” The chant concluded, and an exceptionally large magic circle enveloped the area, mending the wounds and easing the pain of the afflicted.
“Whoa! How can such a large wound close so easily?” one civilian marvelled.
“She is a saint, a real saint! You’ve earned my worship from now on!” another praised.
Cheers erupted among those healed, causing the girl to turn her head away in embarrassment.
A ball of light flanked by herbs adorned the emblem sewn into her garments, the symbol of the Dian Cecht familia, renowned as one of the best medical agencies in Orario.
The girl, a prodigious talent, was their secret weapon—Airmid Teasanare.
“Thank you, kid! You patched me up real good,” an adventurer praised, startling her.
“I am not a kid!” Airmid protested.
“I’ll count on you next time, little squirt!” another adventurer called out.
“I am not a squirt!” Airmid protested again, her face contorting into a cute pout as the adventurers headed off to battle the evilus.
Healers were extremely valuable in the ongoing war, so Airmid had to remain in a safe location near the guild.
Clad in her snow-white robe, with long silver hair, a nurse's cap, and mysterious purple eyes, she resembled a charming doll.
Everyone agreed she would become quite stunning as she matured.
However, at just under 3’11”, Airmid was often mistaken for a much younger child or a pallum.
She insisted on wielding a staff far too large for her petite stature, and despite her best efforts to seem menacing, she only appeared endearing.
Nonetheless, in her eyes, she was a full-fledged lady, boasting a respectable 12 years of life experience. She believed that in a few more years, she would grow taller and walk proudly alongside her peers.
As she watched the adventurers disappear into the distance, a sudden wave of nausea overcame the young healer.
She had been healing nonstop for hours, and more wounded—both adventurers and civilians—kept pouring in.
For someone her age, healing was as exhausting as fighting on the frontlines, if not more so.
Just then, a gentle hand caught her before she could collapse.
“Gyaaa!” she squealed, startled by suddenly being pulled up by her collar, which pressed against her throat.
“Why don’t you take a rest before you pass out?” her rescuer suggested.
“Here’s a potion,” her rescuer said, uncorking a bottle and pouring it over Airmid's head.
Not all potions needed to be ingested to take effect.
Caught off guard, the liquid cascaded down her head and face, some even getting into her eyes.
“Buuuugh!” Airmid protested, using a free hand to rub her eyes.
“Now you should feel better with some rest. Why don’t you sit over there and cheer us on with your cute face?” her rescuer said.
Airmid shook herself like a wet dog, trying to dry her long silver hair while glaring at her rescuer.
“Why are you doing this to me, Naaza?” Airmid protested.
Her rescuer was none other than Naaza Erisuis, a Chientrope from the Miach familia.
“So the old man won’t get mad at me for letting you push yourself too much. Just sit this one out,” Naaza replied.
“I’ll be leaving soon for the frontlines to escort Miach-sama, so little kids like you should stay put,” Naaza added, waving her hand dismissively as if to shoo Airmid away.
“Eeeeeeek!” Airmid squealed in indignation, her cheeks puffing up.
In a burst of frustration, she tossed aside her oversized staff and charged at Naaza, grabbing her tail and pulling with all her might.
“Kyaaa!” Naaza yelped in shock, and a playful scuffle erupted between the two.
Before long, it turned into a full-blown tussle, with both girls exchanging playful insults.
Although Naaza acted like an adult, she too was just a child, only 11 years old—one year younger than Airmid.
“Girls! This is hardly the time or place for this!” a voice interjected, halting their duel.
“Lord Miach!” they both exclaimed, immediately separating, their faces flushed with embarrassment at his reprimand.
Naaza especially felt hurt; she didn’t want Miach to see her childish side, especially since she harboured romantic feelings for her god.
With the girls paused, Miach turned his attention elsewhere.
“Dian! I’m taking my kids and heading to Central Park; we’ll leave this place in your capable hands,” Miach announced to his rival god.
“What! And let you steal all the glory? If your familia is going, then mine will too!” Dian protested.
“Sigh, Dian, must we always quarrel like this?” Miach sighed, exasperation evident in his tone.
A strong rivalry existed between the two gods, extending to their children, which was why Naaza and Airmid acted like oil and water.
“One of us must remain to provide healing to the northwestern front. We can’t afford to squabble,” Miach explained.
“Grrrr! You have a point... very well, you can go, but you must pull your weight over there,” Dian conceded.
“Right back at you, my friend. Come, children, let’s go!” Miach commanded.
“Yes, Lord Miach!” the children replied, following their god.
………………………………………………………………………………..
On a tall building, a cat-girl assassin surveyed the chaos below, her feline tail swaying from side to side before suddenly pricking up.
“Orario is freaking wild, Nya!” she muttered, taking in the scene.
Nearby, on another rooftop, a human bounty hunter clenched and unclenched her bloodstained fists after fending off a group of evilus attackers.
Coincidentally, these two girls—Lunoire Faust, the bounty hunter, and Chloe Rollo, the assassin—arrived in the same city at the same time on this particularly terrible day.
‘Guess we’ll have to put the mission on hold,’ they both thought, recognizing the chaos that had erupted around them.
Each had their own story but found themselves drawn to this city by a certain request—one with a ridiculously high payout for tracking down some stolen goods that had gone missing over a year ago.
Chloe had received the mission as the final condition for formally leaving her criminal familia, which was affiliated with a notorious criminal organization.
Lunoire, on the other hand, had roamed the lands after losing her goddess and found herself commissioned to track the same stolen goods.
The reward was substantial enough that completing the mission could allow her to finally settle down.
The mission had been a dead end for quite some time until the very stolen goods resurfaced on the black market.
Specifically, they were branded gold bars—items taken by Draco and his familia after they decimated a bandit fortress before coming to Orario.
The criminal organization that backed the bandit fortress certainly would not let themselves be insulted like this or their tribute to remain stolen, so they employed every means available to track down those responsible for ruining their business.
Tracing the origin of the sales on the black market proved difficult, but soon, the source was traced back to Orario.
An odd series of coincidences had now inexplicably connected the Bahamut familia, Chloe Rollo, and Lunoire Faust.
However, first, they all needed to survive the onslaught of the evilus before fate would reveal its intricate plans for them.
A/N: Do you think Chloe and Lunoire would fit in with the Bahamut familia, or would they be better suited to join the Hostess of Fertility, as in the original story?
Chapter 42 to 44 to recall the bandit event…