BOPE 76

Chapter 76…

Jack hurriedly untied the string fastened to the pigeon’s leg. His small hands trembled so much from nervousness that he dropped the string several times before finally managing to detach the tube. Just as he was about to sprint off, the pigeon pecked sharply at the back of his hand, making him pause.

“Ah! Sorry. I was in such a hurry I forgot.”

Jack dug into the soil inside a bucket with a small trowel and pulled out a wriggling earthworm. Seeing it, the pigeon flapped its wings in excitement.

“You worked hard, Gugu! Eat this before you go!”

After feeding the worm to the messenger pigeon, Jack clutched the small tube tightly and dashed toward the village chief’s house. A few villagers, recognizing the scene, trailed after him and asked with hopeful voices:

“Is it news from Grace Castle?”

“Yes! I’m taking it to the chief’s house right now!”

Even while panting, Jack answered faithfully.

“It’s true!”

The man who had asked waved his arms and shouted toward a distant group. They dropped what they were doing and rushed after Jack in a crowd. This had become a familiar sight in Morta Village for the past week.

“Chief! A message pigeon has arrived!”

Pounding on the door, Jack shouted loudly. At once, the waiting village chief threw the door open and received the tube. The murmurs of the crowd behind Jack died in an instant. Some of the women clasped their hands in prayer, staring desperately at the chief’s hands.

For six days in a row, the villagers had only heard that their lord had yet to regain consciousness. Each time, some wept, and others returned home in despair.

But they could not give up. Day after day, with hearts full of prayer, they awaited the pigeon. On the seventh day, today, they once again ran out with a glimmer of hope.

The old hands of Chief Hoff trembled as he pulled out the small piece of paper from the tube.

That day still haunted him—the dreadful cries of the Qulen monsters outside. The peaceful village had turned into hell in an instant.

When the knights’ shouts faded and only the Qulen’s roars filled the air, Hoff thought it was truly the end. But then, the knights’ voices returned, and something about the monster’s cries sounded different.

Holding his breath, Hoff cautiously opened a wooden shutter—and saw an unbelievable sight.

Their young lord was fighting the Qulen head-on. Hoff couldn’t close the window, even knowing the danger. Bathed in the glow of light that the lord cast against the beasts, he looked like an angel sent from heaven. When the radiant flash fell, the Qulen plummeted from the sky. Hoff’s legs gave out and he collapsed.

Even after seeing it with his own eyes, he could hardly believe it. Then he heard the urgent cries of people calling for the lord. Realizing instinctively that the lord was in danger, Hoff ignored his wife’s pleas and ran outside, gripping a pickaxe. He was old, but he had to do something. He wasn’t alone—men poured from their homes armed with sickles and clubs.

But by the time they rushed out, a Qulen had already seized the lord and carried him into the air. The knights dared not shoot arrows, fearing they might strike him. Light flared again, the lord fell from the sky, and Hoff was left with nightmares of that moment every night since.

“What does it say? Has the lord still not woken up?”

One young villager, usually respectful to the chief, blurted out impatiently.

Chief Hoff unrolled the scroll silently, tears glimmering in his eyes. His frail shoulders shook; in the past week, he had grown gaunt from hardly eating.

“Don’t tell me… did the lord pass away?”

A woman’s trembling voice broke the silence, and murmurs rose. Hoff quickly shook his head and lifted the scroll high.

“The lord has finally awakened!”

Tears streamed down his sunken cheeks.

“Waaaaaah!”

“Hurray! Long live our lord!”

“Th-thank you, merciful God!”

The villagers erupted in joy. That evening, for the first time in days, Morta Village slept in peace.

That night, in Donghee’s room, a cot had been set up for Delma. Though she had been feverish before, thanks to the medicine she had recovered, and she now refused to leave the lord’s side. No matter how many times Donghee told her to rest, Delma insisted she felt calmer staying right beside him.

“You’re so stubborn.”

When Donghee lay down with a resigned smile, Delma slipped her hand under the blanket to check the warmth. Several heated stone pouches placed earlier kept it toasty.

“Is it warm enough?” she asked, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Not too hot?” she asked anxiously.

Donghee chuckled and shook his head. “No, it’s just right.”

“Then please sleep well. If you get cold, even in the middle of the night, call me right away.”

“Mm. You too, Delma—go get some sleep.”

“After I see you fall asleep first.”

“Then I’ll only sleep if you lie down.”

Both were as stubborn as bulls. Finally, when the lord kept his eyes wide open, Delma gave in and lay down. Despite pretending not to be tired, she began snoring the moment her head hit the pillow.

Donghee’s eyes grew misty. He had only followed quests step by step, yet so many people worried for him, suffered with him, and cared. For someone who had always been lonely, the sudden flood of love and concern felt almost overwhelming—yet deeply precious.

Watching Delma’s steady breathing in the dark, Donghee’s eyelids soon grew heavy.

“I need to visit the other villages quickly,” he thought anxiously. But Delma was right: recovering came first. If he ate, slept, and rested well, he’d heal faster. At last, he too drifted into steady sleep.

Moments later, beside his bed, a crackling sound flared. A blue status window appeared, and from within it stepped a man with silver hair.

— Taechang has come to visit the user in the hospital.

Taechang glared coldly at the words, but they didn’t vanish. With a sigh, he turned his gaze toward the sleeping Donghee. Bruises still marred his face and neck. Taechang looked down at his own hands and let out a long, weary sigh.

The status window erased its cheeky line and wrote again:

— It wasn’t Taechang’s fault. Because he suddenly used power, his manifestation time was drastically shortened. It couldn’t be helped.

After catching Donghee mid-fall and killing the charging Qulen, Taechang had exhausted his strength. He had wanted to descend gently to minimize the impact, but his power drained too fast, and Donghee slipped from his grasp.

Staring at his fading, translucent arms, Taechang clenched his fist. He had believed twenty minutes of manifestation would suffice, but his strength was still too fragile.

From his hand, he grabbed the small hourglass spinning above. Opening the lid, he drank a mouthful of the blue liquid inside. Then, reluctantly, he pried open Donghee’s lips and passed the liquid into him.

As Donghee’s pained expression eased, Taechang straightened. The hourglass returned to its place on his hand. The bruises on Donghee’s cheeks faded, the swelling on his leg subsided. Though unseen, even broken bones had begun to mend.

— If you keep pouring yourself out like that, you’ll run out of MP. You’ll end up broke, Taechang.

“Shut up.”

— Why take it out on me? Whenever your MP dips, you get all irritable, and I’m the only one who has to put up with it! Who can I complain to, huh?

Taechang suddenly seized the glowing window. It crumpled like cloth in his grip. Soon it balled up, sprouting tiny wings, legs, and a beak—transforming into a blue bird that chirped furiously.

— I only worry because I care about the lord. If you keep overdoing it and fail again like last time, what then?

The bird’s tone suddenly grew polite. Taechang loosened his grip, and it fluttered onto his shoulder.

— You know, right? You and I are one. If you fail, I disappear too. I just want to return to my true form. Look at me now—what a pitiful state!

It flapped its tiny wings in frustration. No matter how hard, it lacked the majesty it once had.

Then, the last drop of light in the hourglass’s upper chamber fell. The bird let out a sharp chirp before flattening back into the status window. At once, Taechang vanished into the blue screen.

In deep slumber, Donghee’s face looked far more at peace.