Illya appeared instantly in front of Fyar. The air around them vibrated for a moment before the girl immediately held Fyar’s ears, rubbed his cheeks, and cupped his head. Illya’s eyes moved quickly, checking every inch of Fyar’s face and body. She saw the torn fabric at the abdomen soaked in blue blood, the slash wound on the back of his hand, and the long scratch on his neck.
Illya immediately pressed her palms onto the wounded areas. A dim green light flowed from her fingers, slowly closing the open skin pores.
"How was it, did it go smoothly?" Fyar asked in a low voice.
Illya nodded. She took a long breath, looking relieved after confirming there were no fatal injuries. "It went smoothly, Fyar."
"Thank God."
Illya moved her face forward and gave Fyar a short kiss on the lips. Fyar only tilted his head slightly, letting Illya do it before asking again.
"What level did you reach?"
Illya smiled widely until her teeth were clearly visible. She showed her adventurer card which still felt warm. "Thirty two, Fyar!"
Fyar reached out his hand, gently stroking the top of Illya’s head. Illya’s hair became a bit messy from his movement. "Now you are not afraid of being left behind anymore, right?"
Illya looked down. She stared at the white sand beneath their feet. "Still. I am the lowest."
Nope, Illya. You are a level thirty two Witch! Even a low level Witch is troublesome, you know! Fyar thought while continuing to stare at the girl.
"My, my, my. This lovey dovey couple is really something," Hasya’s voice was heard from behind.
Hasya walked closer with a casual pace. His hands were folded behind his head. He stopped right beside them and clapped his hands three times loudly.
"You are great, Fyar. Truly great!" Hasya pointed both thumbs right in front of Fyar’s face. "You were able to handle two of those creatures with very minimal injuries."
Fyar brushed off the praise with a wave of his hand. He pointed to his wounds that had already closed. "Not really. Most of it was already healed by Illya."
Hasya lowered his hands. His gaze turned sharp, as if scanning something inside Fyar’s body. "What is your level now, Fyar?"
"Forty one," Fyar answered shortly.
"Forty one?!" Illya was startled. She gripped Fyar’s arm tightly. "Fyar, you almost match a Guardian!"
Fyar frowned. His face showed disbelief.
A Guardian? Am I almost equal to that asshole Xavier?! Fyar wondered .
"Yes!" Illya said enthusiastically. She held Fyar’s hand. "It is not yet known exactly what their average level is, but the lowest level to become a Guardian is forty. Data wise, you meet the requirements, Fyar!"
The lowest is forty? Shit, so I am not necessarily equal to Xavier yet. How strong are they actually damm.
Hasya’s pupils dilated for a moment upon hearing that number. He fell silent, the tip of his shoe tapping rhythmically against the sand surface. Hasya exhaled, then patted Fyar’s shoulder with a palm that felt heavy.
"Forty. You will experience slowed aging. Your body regeneration will also increase for minor injuries."
The smile on Hasya’s face vanished. He looked straight into Fyar’s purple eyes with a cold gaze.
"Don’t lose yourself, my friend."
What does he mean? Fyar thought, but Hasya had already ch anged his expression back to cheerful.
"Congratulations, congratulations!" Hasya raised his hand, inviting Fyar for a high five.
Fyar met Hasya’s hand. The sound of their high five was heard in the middle of the silent desert. Hasya then directed his palm toward the two crystals lying on the sand. The crystals floated, darting into the pouch hanging from the owl’s saddle.
"Let’s go."
Hasya leaped onto the back of the silver owl with one light jump. Illya approached Fyar, her hand moving quickly to pluck a strand of hair from Fyar’s head.
Whoosh .
In the blink of an eye, Fyar’s vision shifted. They were already on the back of the giant owl which was hovering low.
"Hold on, hold on!" Hasya shouted.
An invisible transparent dome appeared enveloping the back of the owl. The air inside the dome felt calm, blocking the strong wind blowing from outside. Cyhas welcomed them with a gentle smile from her seat.
"Congratulations, Fyar!" Cyhas greeted.
Fyar nodded slowly. "Thanks, Cyhas."
He then looked toward Rasie and Zaefal who were sitting across from each other. "Did you guys succeed?"
Zaefal only nodded shortly. "Of course."
"Of course we did!" Rasie joined in with a proud tone. "Speaking of which, what is your level now?"
"Forty one," Fyar answered.
"41?!"
Zaefal was startled. He sat up straight and patted Fyar’s shoulder hard. "Fyar, you are truly at a Guardian’s level now. You have surpassed us all. Even though a few months ago you were still level zero."
"Forty one?! That’s damn fast!" Rasie shouted.
Rasie pulled her own red hair with both hands. Her eyes bulged in disbelief. "You are crazy! From level zero to forty one in less than a year?!"
Rasie bit her lower lip.
"Agh,fuck you fuck youu!!"
"Come here and kiss me so you won’t be annoyed," Hasya teased while moving his face closer to Rasie.
"Get away form me pervrt!!!!" Rasie snapped. She pushed Hasya’s face with her palm until Hasya’s head was pushed back.
"What is your own level, Rasie?" Fyar asked.
"Hah? Thirty five" Rasie answered shortly.
Fyar looked toward Zaefal.
"Same, thirty five," Zaefal said. He exhaled a long breath and wiped the sweat on his neck.
"But well.."
"somehow this level increase feels natural if we see what we have gone through."
Zaefal fell silent for a moment before continuing. "I wonder what other crazy things come after this."
Fyar leaned his head on Illya’s shoulder. Illya responded by stroking Fyar gently.
"Well, I hope everything returns to normal," Fyar said softly.
"At least, let’s hope so," Zaefal replied. He then remembered something and looked at Fyar. "Ah, do you already know the effects of entering level forty, Fyar? I forgot to tell you."
"I do. Hasya told me earlier."
"But will I really stop aging? Like truly? Like immortal?" Fyar asked as he touched his own cheeks.
Hasya turned back. He smiled thinly, showing the lines on his face that looked young yet held an ancient impression.
"Just look at me, Fyar. Do you think I am in my twenties?"
Hasya went silent for a moment. "Fathir is also equal to an old man if calculated normally. And the prince? Or the king? You would be surprised when you hear their real ages."
Fyar nodded. He was confused whether to feel happy or sad knowing his body would now age very slowly.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So basically you are a grandpa?" Rasie teased. She looked at Hasya with a mocking gaze. "No wonder your jokes are outdated."
"How mean!" Hasya said with a fake sad tone.
"And by the way one more thing, you are not immortal. You can still be killed."
Hasya looked straight ahead again, toward the darkening horizon. His voice became heavy, losing its playful tone.
"Except, of course..."
"Witches."