CHAPTER 39: MINUS ONE

Gale was dead.

Watching the head flying away, Zephyr relaxed. That released the flood of pain he was holding back.

The arm that Gale chopped off was somewhere nearby. It must have rolled in mud, caked in it. There was no point in looking for it right now.

Without the immediate assistance of a high-level priest or a healer, reattaching the arm was impossible.

So, Zephyr’s attention returned to the stump that remained.

’That son of...’

Zephyr gritted his teeth and tore off a piece of cloth. Any second now, he might lose consciousness due to blood loss.

To survive, he would have to deal with the wound quickly.

After tearing a strip of cloth from his inner shirt, he wrapped it around his biceps. The pain was horrendous. And yet, he gritted his teeth, used what mana remained in his body to enhance himself, and followed through.

Biting on one end of the cloth, he pulled with his remaining hand to tighten the knot. Promptly, the blood stopped flowing out. It gave him hope.

"Aahh." Zephyr breathed out and fell to the floor.

From the start of the battle to tightening the noose around his biceps barely took a minute. And the result was anything but satisfactory.

It was a victory that came at a terrible cost. In fact, it would be right to say that it cost him an arm. Luckily, his leg was safe.

Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he sat on the muddy ground.

’That was hectic.’ He commented, thinking back to what just happened.

Gale was a strong knight who was beyond his league. Defeating him was an impossible task for most mages, much less a beginner mage like Zephyr. And yet, he did just that.

’I could only do it because of my quick thinking and focused arsenal of spells.’ He noted it down in his mind.

’I made the right decision by etching attack-oriented spells on my cores.’ Zephyr was convinced.

If he had taken a cautious approach and etched defensive spells, he would have succumbed to death a little while ago.

There was no stopping an intermediate knight with some defensive spells. So, his aggression helped him live—at least, this time.

’As I thought, the world will not wait for me. A good offense was the best defense.’He thought, gazing at the corpse a few meters away.

The wisp of light was still floating above his head, illuminating the area around him. So, he could clearly see the body of the undead knight lying on the ground.

The head was cleanly severed and thrown away by the explosion. There was nothing above the neck, except dark blood and mangled flesh.

"Lesson learned," Zephyr mumbled.

His dry throat made him cough.

"You only have the right to live if you are strong."

Zephyr tried to stand up.

But his legs wouldn’t budge. He felt as if he was glued to the ground. The pain and exhaustion were preventing him from moving.

’I suppose there is a limit to what my body can handle. No one sane would have abused their body like me.’ He thought, remembering the sleepless nights he had spent since he came to this world.

It was a miracle that he was still alive.

’Anyways, I need to stand up right now. I need to get the mask and sword...then leave.’

The one-armed mage thought.

After all, fate was catching up to him.

He turned to look at his left arm, or what existed of it, once again. The forearm had completely disappeared.

He had finally become the one-armed mage.

The past Zephyr was also one-armed.

So, does that mean nothing has changed since his arrival?

Zephyr frowned.

He was fated to lose an arm, and now he lost it. Does that mean he failed to escape from fate?

His frustration grew.

Wouldn’t that mean his Chimera future was about to catch up to him?

Zephyr felt an ominous chill crawling up his spine. The thought that he changed nothing significant gnawed at him.

’How long will I be able to survive this hell?’ He asked himself the question and stood up.

Fortunately, his body had naturally gathered enough mana to help him enhance his body.

’Anyway, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Life, death, fear...nothing matters. Let’s take it one step at a time.’ One by one, Zephy abandoned all his feelings. He even trivialized the loss of an arm, returning to his nonchalant self.

Meanwhile, the mana flowing through his body strengthened him. The resolve to do whatever he must once again resurfaced in him.

Zephyr looked at the corpse and began walking closer to it. His mana flowed perfectly through the body, gathering near his wound to block dirt and debris from getting into it. At the same time, he wished for it to close the wound.

He had no healing spell at hand. But mana didn’t really need spells to work. Imagination was enough to do basic things.

Therefore, with the help of mana, he wanted to make the blood clot over the wound.

Zephyr didn’t know what would happen if he did it. Still, he tried nonetheless. It was his only option to alleviate the pain.

A few seconds later, he stood next to the corpse, observing it in detail. The man was wearing simple robes, but beneath them was a chain mail armour.

If he had decided to plunge his sword into the chest of the undead, he would have failed miserably.

Fortunately, Zephyr assumed the presence of an armour and decided to go for the neck.

’This old man is built sturdy.’

Zephyr crouched down to take a better look.

Gale was still clutching the sword tightly. Even when his head exploded away, he didn’t drop it.

’He asked me to take it. So, I should, right?’

Looting slain enemies was normal in the game. Most enemies in Arcana Link dropped alchemical items or weapons. But the corpse would disappear as the items were dropped.

This time, the corpse of the undead knight didn’t disappear.

He would have to snatch it away from the arm of the corpse to loot the item.

"Ah..." Zephyr groaned.

"May you find peace, old man." He muttered and grabbed the sword hilt.

With a slight pause, he pulled it out of the corpse’s hand.