Chapter 186: Full Moon Night – Part 2 (4)

Just as time turned back to the moment when Sion first encountered and engaged with Raizein—

Tat, tatat, tat!

Philia was sprinting at full speed through the dark forest, clutching her fallen master in her arms.

Needless to say, it was Philia who had rescued Dorothy from Raizein.

She had gone out on a scouting mission, only to be startled by beasts emerging from the shadows.

She rushed back, only to find her master being drained of all vitality.

Reflexively, she had thrown her knife and a flash grenade—but it wasn’t part of any real plan.

She just knew it was dangerous and acted on instinct to save her somehow.

Fortunately, a mix of timely luck and the enemy’s whim allowed them to escape the immediate danger.

But even so, the situation remained dire.

Beasts roamed the forest in droves, and the darkness was so thick that nothing was visible.

Dorothy, clinging to life by a thread, was steadily dying in real time.

Objectively, abandoning her master and fleeing would have been the most logical choice.

But even so, Philia kept running with Dorothy in her arms—as if no other option had ever existed.

“Kregrrr…”

“!?”

Hearing a beast’s growl, Philia swallowed nervously and ducked behind a tree.

Thankfully, she had at least one thing going for her—stealth.

She was confident in her hiding skills, enough to move undetected through a forest teeming with monsters.

It was a technique she had learned to complete the various “missions” her master had assigned.

Now, unexpectedly, it was proving to be her salvation.

Of course, that didn’t mean the situation was getting any better.

‘This is bad. It’s so dark, I can’t even tell which way leads to the school and which to the outskirts. I need to find a priest at least… that’s the only way to heal my master…’

But then again, even returning to the school might not make much of a difference.

There’s no way monsters of this scale would appear without reason.

Most likely, by now, the teachers and beasts were locked in fierce combat in front of the main building.

In that kind of chaos, there would be no room or resources to spare for a commoner girl like Dorothy.

Philia glanced down at the girl cradled in her arms.

“Ugh… huhhk… grrk…”

“……”

Her master, unconscious, was groaning intermittently like she was trapped in a nightmare.

Dorothy’s condition was severe.

She looked like she could stop breathing at any moment.

Her once fair skin was now lifeless and cracked, her body reduced to skin and bones.

The dense, internal muscles that gave her strength were pathetically shrunken.

Her pulse was barely perceptible, like it could stop at any second—and in fact, it was stopping, bit by bit.

This can’t go on.

There’s no time to find a priest.

Emergency treatment had to be done now.

But how?

“…Ah!”

In that moment, a bit of luck smiled upon Philia.

Desperately scanning her surroundings, she spotted a small cave—too small for beasts to form in, but just wide enough for two people to lie down.

Its location was perfect too; the entrance was mostly covered by bushes from the outside.

An ideal hiding spot to avoid monster eyes.

Without hesitation, Philia ducked inside.

She spread out a cloth from her apron on the ground and laid Dorothy on it.

Then she pulled out all the emergency healing potions she had and poured them into Dorothy’s mouth.

“Kgh… hack—!?”

“Don’t spit it out. Swallow it quietly, Master. Or you’ll die.”

She knew Dorothy couldn’t hear her, but Philia said it anyway—to support her own crumbling resolve.

She knew very well that this tiny amount of potion wouldn’t make much difference.

It might buy a few more minutes, but it wasn’t a real solution.

In fact, there was hardly any visible improvement before or after giving them to her.

To save her master, something far more drastic was needed.

It was time to draw on the forbidden knowledge still faintly etched in her mind.

“……”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Philia made her decision.

She pulled up the collar of her maid uniform and bit down on it, then took out the sharpest dagger hidden in her clothing.

Without hesitation, she stabbed her left shoulder and severed her arm.

“….!!!!”

Philia bit down on the cloth and desperately suppressed the scream threatening to escape.

Not yet.

She couldn’t pass out yet.

No matter how overwhelming the pain, she had to endure it.

She had to push through and complete the next steps swiftly—before the beasts smelled the blood and found them.

She tightly bound the bleeding stump with a one-handed knot and covered it with cloth.

Then, with trembling fingers, she picked up the severed arm and began drawing a magic circle on the ground with its blood—methodically, without making a single mistake, guided by the knowledge in her memories.

“…Good.”

Once she finished the drawing, Philia lit the circle with a lighter she kept in her pocket.

Flames flared up, spreading along the path drawn in blood.

Finally, she placed the arm at the center of the circle, closed her eyes, and began chanting in a chilling voice:

“O Zyref, true master of all things and embodiment of the darkness—

Your foolish servant begs for a sliver of salvation in this despair.

Please accept this offering, and in your mercy, lay your hand upon this helpless lamb.”

At her words, the blood-drawn circle ignited in dark red flames.

The arm at the center burned away completely, leaving no trace behind.

At the same time, a faint energy rose from the circle, lingered in the air, and then flew to Dorothy—gently sinking into her body.

The two pillars that uphold the world: the divine god Lafrey and the evil god Zairef.

Though they possess powers that mirror each other like reflections on opposite sides of a mirror, there exists one crucial difference between them.

While followers of Lafrey invoke miracles through faith, followers of Zairef gain power by offering sacrifices.

However, these offerings must not be inanimate objects.

They must be living beings—or at least parts of them.

For example, a freshly severed left arm.

Philia herself wasn’t a cultist, but she had once been sold into slavery to a cult and nearly offered as a sacrifice.

Those cultists, however, had the misfortune of provoking a passing dragon, got thoroughly beaten, and were completely wiped out.

Their sacred texts, however, survived—and ended up in Philia’s possession.

Just in case, Philia had memorized the ritual procedures.

She never knew when a situation like now—where she had to save her master’s life no matter the cost—might arise.

Had it been the goddess Laphrey, such trickery wouldn’t have worked.

A faithless person like Philia couldn’t possibly have borrowed divine power from her.

It was a relief that the one she prayed to was Zairef.

As long as you offer tribute, Zairef bestows power equally—even on non-believers.

In that sense, he was a surprisingly fair god.

‘The problem is whether the life force I converted by sacrificing my left arm will be enough to revive my master.’

Whatever else might be said, this was one thing she couldn’t change.

All she could do now was leave it to the heavens and pray.

Offering any more limbs didn’t sit well with her.

If she lost a leg, she wouldn’t be able to carry her master and run in an emergency.

If she lost her other arm, she couldn’t even lift her in the first place.

Either way, it would severely reduce her response capacity.

Considering the risk of being discovered by monsters at any moment, Philia’s honest hope was to settle things with just the one arm.

And perhaps it was that desperation that reached someone—or something.

Hisss…