Her thoughts returned to the present.
Holding Rudeus's soft little hand, Zenith pushed open the familiar wooden door of the clinic and began treating the injured.
"Let sacred power become fragrant nourishment, Healing Magic."
A gentle green light flowed from Zenith's fingertips, softly enveloping a little girl's scraped knee.
The tiny blood vessels around the wound quickly closed, and fresh pink skin grew visibly over it.
The little girl sniffled, then broke into a smile through her tears. "Thank you, Auntie Zenith," she said in her childish voice.
Zenith smiled and tousled the girl's soft hair.
When she turned around, she found Rudeus looking up at her, his big, clear green eyes fixed on her without blinking, full of undisguised admiration.
It was the most satisfying moment a mother could have.
Zenith felt all her earlier exhaustion vanish. Her back straightened a little, and when she turned to sort the medicines, she couldn't suppress the smile on her lips.
But that peace was shattered in an instant by a thunderous crash.
The clinic's heavy wooden door burst open, sending thick dust swirling in the backlight.
A middle-aged woman stumbled inside, supporting a limp young man whose face was deathly pale.
The young man's right leg twisted outward at a horrifying angle. His coarse trouser leg was soaked through with blood, leaving a glaring red trail across the rough wooden floor.
"Zenith! Save him! Please save Tom!" the woman cried, her hoarse voice trembling with despair. "He ran into rampaging monsters on the mountain... how did it come to this...?"
Zenith's heart clenched. Instinct sent her rushing forward to help the woman carry the young man onto a bed.
When the scissors cut open the trouser leg stuck to his flesh, a collective gasp rang through the clinic.
It could no longer be called a leg. His exposed shinbone had shattered into several pieces, the stark white fragments piercing through flesh and skin; torn muscle hung open like ragged cotton stuffing, and dark red blood poured out without stopping.
Zenith's face went pale.
She was an intermediate Healing Magic practitioner. A fracture shattered this badly and such severe nerve damage were beyond the limits of intermediate magic.
Even if she managed to stop the bleeding and heal the skin, the bones inside could not be precisely reset. This young man in the prime of his life would spend the rest of his days crippled, unable to get around without a crutch.
The white light surging in her palm began to shake violently, flickering on and off.
Zenith bit hard on her lower lip, cold sweat seeping from her temples into her hair. The suffocating helplessness of facing an injured patient she could not save weighed heavily on her chest.
Just then, the hem of her clothes was tugged twice at her thigh.
"Mom, let me try."
A young but unusually steady voice sounded beside her.
Zenith froze and looked down at Rudeus, who had come to the bedside without her noticing.
The little boy looked up at her, his face still round with baby fat. There was none of the panic a child should have in his eyes; instead, they were as calm as a deep pool.
Zenith thought he was only trying to comfort her and was about to gently tell him to step back, but Rudeus had already climbed onto the step at the edge of the bed, using both hands and feet.
He did not recite the complicated incantation that ran several lines long.
He simply reached out his little hand, which had not even fully developed yet, and held it over the young man's mangled leg.
The next second, an unprecedented golden light erupted!
It was not the faint glimmer of ordinary Healing Magic, but a vast torrent of rich, concentrated magic power that even carried a faint, sacred resonance.
The light swallowed the entire bed, its brilliance forcing Zenith to turn her head away.
The young man, who had been twitching and groaning on the bed, fell silent at once.
Before Zenith's suddenly constricted pupils, a miracle occurred-the shattered bones, as if summoned by a god, automatically fitted themselves perfectly together and reformed in the light;
The torn blood vessels and muscles spread wildly like vines, weaving together.
In just a few breaths, the light faded to reveal a sturdy leg, as good as new, without so much as a scar.
The young man stared blankly for a few seconds, tentatively wiggled his toes, then scrambled out of bed.
He jumped hard on the floor twice, shouting in shock and delight:
"It doesn't hurt anymore... it's really all healed! Even my strength is back!"
The air seemed to freeze at that moment.
The woman's sobbing stopped abruptly, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.
The villagers watching from the corner stood rooted to the spot like wooden or clay statues, as if they had witnessed a miracle.
What shocked them was not that the injury had been healed, but that the one who had brought about this miracle was a small child who wasn't even as tall as the bed and hadn't even chanted an incantation.
"Oh... my God of the Heavenly Throne..."
"Zenith, is, is this your son? Did he just use Voiceless Incantation?"
"That was advanced... no, that was Saint Rank Healing Magic or higher, wasn't it?!"
"Your son is a real genius!"
"Wow, so this is Zenith's son? He's so cute!"
"Will you let Auntie give you a hug?"
"Let big sister hug him first!"
Listening to the growing chorus of astonished exclamations and gasps, Zenith trembled slightly with overwhelming shock.
As an adventurer who had once ventured out into the world, she knew better than anyone what "high-level Healing Magic with Voiceless Incantation" meant-her son was a genius who defied all common sense.
But then her pride as a mother overcame her reason.
She instinctively straightened her back and pulled Rudeus behind her, trying to shield him from the villagers' fervent gazes with her clothes.
She tried to keep her voice calm, but she couldn't hide the hint of pride in her tone:
"Ahaha... this child just likes reading all sorts of books. He was only lucky."
In truth, though, her heart was soaring, as if countless birds were sweeping through it.
She had received many compliments before: people had praised her beauty, her kindness, and her skill with Healing Magic.
But none of those compliments could compare to the praise her son was receiving now.
The vanity and happiness of being a "mother" made her very soul feel light.
That day, Zenith did something she had never done before and stayed at the clinic for two extra hours, carefully examining every patient without feeling the least bit tired.
At dusk, the orange-red glow of the setting sun bathed the wheat fields of Buena Village in warm, scattered gold.
Holding Rudeus's hand, Zenith walked leisurely home along a path between the fields, treading on their long shadows.
The wind carried the scent of earth and grass, mingled with the smell of food drifting from the chimneys of distant farmhouses.
Zenith looked down at the little figure beside her. The setting sun outlined him in a fuzzy golden halo, making him look so unreal.
An indescribable lingering fear and an even deeper tenderness welled up in her heart. She suddenly stopped, bent down, and scooped Rudeus into her arms.
"Whoa... Mom?"
Caught off guard by the embrace, Rudeus instinctively wrapped his little arms around Zenith's neck and mumbled:
"I can walk by myself... I'm not a little kid anymore."
"In your mother's eyes, you'll always be a child."
Zenith buried her face in his little shoulder.
The child smelled of soapberries and warm sunshine, and his solid weight filled the emptiness in her heart.
"If I don't hug you more now, I won't be able to once you're grown up and married."
Hearing the teasing but deeply lonely tone in his mother's voice, Rudeus was momentarily taken aback.
Feeling this young mother's unreserved love, the coldness and wariness he had carried over from his previous life melted away completely.
He smiled self-mockingly and let himself act like a real child, pressing his face into the warmth of Zenith's neck.
"That won't happen. No matter where I go, whenever you want a hug, Mom, I'll come right back."
Zenith burst out laughing, though her eyes grew warm.
She gave her son's little bottom a gentle pat and scolded him with a smile:
"You little smooth-talking rascal. I wonder whose daughter you'll lead astray someday."
As the sun set, their shadows overlapped and stretched along the country path, blending into the boundless twilight.