"Feeling better?"
"You brat. I told you not to push yourself so hard."
In his haze, white armor flashed past his eyes, accompanied by a somewhat weary voice.
"Captain, I—"
"Don't speak yet. Lie down properly. That is an order from me as your captain."
Though the voice sounded tired, it still carried a hint of youthfulness.
The white-armored figure seemed to pull over a stool and sit down.
"No one becomes powerful overnight, De Leon. You need to understand that."
"I understand how desperately you want to prove yourself, but rushing things will often bring you nothing but pain and injury."
He spoke slowly. His voice was not especially forceful, yet every word echoed in his ears.
"You are a knight who strives to improve, De Leon. I have seen it all. I know."
"On the condition that you do not hurt yourself, prove it to me."
"You can become stronger. You can run faster."
"Use your own legs and your own will to prove it to me."
"Captain..."
"Sir Pindo seems to be having a nightmare. He doesn't look like he's sleeping peacefully."
Mash sat beside Pindo and sighed.
By then, the sky had already darkened, and everyone from Chaldea had retreated into West Village.
Mordred had transformed into a white Dragon and flown eastward. Without question, she had returned to the Holy City. After Mordred left, the remaining wyvern riders could probably all be dealt with by Arash alone, even if no one else intervened.
Fujimaru Ritsuka's stitching skills were truly terrible. Not only were the stitches crooked and uneven, but the thread had even snapped. Percival had to stitch Pindo up again before the enormous wound was properly closed.
"Sorry. My fault." Fujimaru Ritsuka leaned against the wall to one side, his face ashen and his