Half-elf Notebook

Chapter 173 Darkness

Just as he expected, the orc loosened the battle axe that was stuck on the shield, and the intense pain caused it to let out a deafening roar.

The scarlet blood seemed to spread to the animal's pupils, where the whites were almost invisible, adding a bit of madness and brutality. The light scarlet color of the blood was clearly visible.

On the other hand, Mitaokol had already rushed into the distance where he could stab with his spear.

In an instant, his heart became exceptionally calm, and a breath in his chest was slowly calming his heavy breathing caused by running.

It seemed to him that time was being stretched and the world was moving slower and slower. The same was true for him, the orc in front of him, and his father who was violently pushed away by the orc.

The gun in my hand has never been so steady.

Just like the hammer his father had used day after day to let him hammer iron ingots, he was very familiar with it.

He held out the gun in his hand. He had a gut feeling that this time it would not miss, even though he had never conducted similar practice before.

However, he seemed to hear his father calling him something...

The feeling receded like the tide, and everything in the world seemed to be out of the water, no longer obscure.

The orc clenched his fists.

Then, there was the slight sound of a sharp blade entering flesh... and the dull sound of flesh and blood, bones and bones colliding, as well as the sound of broken ribs.

Mitaokol flew backwards.

"No!"

The old blacksmith, who was staggering to steady himself, shouted in despair.

But it's always too late.

"Plop" sound.

Mitaokol fell on his back on the ground, and the sharp steel blade at the front end of the gun was stained with blood as its owner pulled it.

At this time, a woman in gray work clothes came to her child faster than the old blacksmith.

In fact, she had a vague premonition of something when Mitokol passed by her.

However, this ordinary mother was powerless to change the impending fate, and she didn't even have time to react.

"Kick."

The orc took a step forward, feeling in amazement the warm liquid flowing down his throat and the wound that was expanding with his breathing and the gushing of blood.

Blood rushed into his lungs and waves of suffocation hit his mind.

The next moment, the orc's expression changed from astonishment to ferociousness. He wanted to tear to pieces the three humans in front of him who had hurt and caused him pain.

Too bad he can't do it anymore.

The orc could not take another step. His legs seemed to be hung with thousands of pounds of iron blocks. He could not lift them up, and even could not maintain his balance.

The steel spike pierced not only his trachea, but also some blood vessels, cervical vertebrae and nerves in his neck, although as an orc he had no way of knowing this.

"thump"

The orc's body weighing more than 200 kilograms fell to the ground with a loud bang. He was not completely dead yet, and his lips were opening and closing, as if he was roaring, or cursing maliciously.

But in the end, these words only stayed in the throat and turned into blood bubbles that kept pouring out of the wound.

On the other hand, Mitaokel's situation was not much better.

Without any protection, he took a solid punch from a mid-level bronze-level professional.

The blow, which exceeded the limits of human strength, hit his lungs and heart squarely.

There was an obvious dent in Mitaokal's chest, with several broken ribs and bone fragments that had obviously pierced into his lungs. Both organs also had varying degrees of bruises and tears.

"No, no, no! My child, by the goddess, please don't let her leave me!"

The woman with the same hair color as Mitaokol knelt on the ground, holding the boy tightly with both hands, begging in tears.

She didn't know what to do for her child... She didn't know how to save her child...

Mitaokel ​​saw tears rolling down his mother's cheeks. He tried hard to get up and hold her trembling hands with his other hand.

However, severe pain interrupted all his attempts.

Repeated failures made his body weaker and weaker. His vision began to go dark and he could no longer see the face that was so close to him.

He wanted to say something to comfort his mother, but all that came out was blood gushing out of his lungs...

At this moment, he saw his father rushing over from the corner of his eye.

The old blacksmith dropped the exquisitely crafted shield, and without saying a word, he moved his body closer to Mitaokol, letting the boy put one arm around his neck and the other hand around his back, hugging his waist, and then lifting him up.

The violent movement deeply stimulated Mitaokal, and he couldn't help coughing up several mouthfuls of blood, with some whitish leaf tissue faintly visible on it.

"Go! You can't save the child by staying here."

The old blacksmith's low voice woke the sad woman.

But only the blacksmith knew the helplessness and confusion in his heart - this place was more than two kilometers away from the Central District Church where the citizens were taking shelter. Even if there were no crowds or any obstacles, his children might not be able to make it there.

Even if he got there... who would he turn to? Which priest or outstanding magician could help him?

…………

I don’t know how long it took, maybe just a few minutes.

In a world of darkness and white light, Mitaukel's consciousness "awoke" again. He seemed to hear a call, vaguely echoing

——The call seemed to be right next to my ear, yet it seemed as if there were more than a dozen layers of curtains between them.

He gained some strength and his perception could be expanded a little.

He could feel the burning pain in his lungs, even though the pain had dissipated a lot. He could feel his limbs, but he couldn't move them except for feeling them getting colder.

He was like a prisoner hanging in the void.

No matter how hard I tried, I could only make my fingers tremble slightly.

However, in the noisy reality, this tiny movement, this imperceptible movement, was still discovered by the woman who was concentrating on watching Mitaukol.

"It worked...it worked, the fingers on his right hand just moved!"

"Mitokor... my child."

The mother was like a drowning person who grabbed a straw called "hope" and kept calling her child's name, her voice rising a few notches.

The old blacksmith's eyes, which had begun to look bleak, suddenly became bright at this moment. He kept calling out from time to time, while at the same time he was shouting at the top of his voice or directing his neighbors to let the crowd in front make way.

Only the captain of the adventurers who provided help from the other side looked at this hard-won miracle in silence. His eyes darkened, revealing sympathy and sadness.

The magic scroll burned to ashes in his palm and flew away with the wind.

And this is the last of the six volumes of third-level primary healing magic scrolls.

He raised his head and saw a dense crowd of people, horses, and goods...

It seems like there will be no end.

……

"It starts again."

Mitaokol thought vaguely as his consciousness began to fade again.

As the severe pain in various parts of his body gradually disappeared, he also gradually lost the perception of his body.

Only the calls of my father and mother still linger in my ears.

But the sound was gradually fading away, and later it became so faint that it was difficult to hear.

"Cirilla...the girl from the herbal medicine shop...aren't you...going to date?"

"Be a man...Hold on...Tell...a child...Tell her your admiration...So..."

"Chilia"

Mitaokel ​​could no longer hear the voices behind him.

But when he heard the name, his mind, which was almost stagnant, subconsciously imagined a brown-haired girl.

She was a timid and cowardly girl, his childhood sweetheart, the girl he had always admired but never discovered.

At this moment, his mind seemed to be a little clearer.

But the balance between white light and darkness was still broken.

Boundless darkness quickly eroded the world he lived in, and the coldness that penetrated his soul froze his thoughts.

"Chilia...Chilia..."

Mitaukol's spirit whispered the name over and over again, but he still couldn't remember his past with it.

"Who is Xilia...?"

The darkness returned to its rightful silence.