Vol.01: Ch.20: The Aftermath - Grappling with Emotions and Promises

An unspoken understanding seemed to pass through the Instructors as they averted their gaze and silently retreated from the scene. Sensing that it was not the appropriate moment to delve into their inquiries, they made their way out of the medicine hall, leaving Darell, Emma, and their friends to grapple with their emotions and the weight of their shared experience.

Meanwhile, the Dean, who had been a witness to Darell's awakening, found himself torn between his duty and his own bewildered thoughts. Questions swirled in his mind, his brow furrowed with a mix of curiosity and concern, as he contemplated the extraordinary phenomenon of Darell's rapid regeneration. Reluctantly, he withdrew from their presence.

A jolt of pain surged through Darell's face, despite his physical strength surpassing that of Emma's. It was a moment that left him momentarily stunned, his hand instinctively reaching up to the source of the stinging sensation. Words struggled to escape his lips, caught in a tangled knot within his throat, as he grappled with the mixture of physical discomfort and emotional turmoil that engulfed him in that fleeting moment.

* SLAP *

Tears streamed down Emma's face as she unleashed another resounding slap upon Darell's cheek as she vented her pent-up emotions. Darell, feeling the ache in his heart tighten, met her tearful gaze with a mixture of remorse and understanding. He remained still, allowing her fists to pound against his chest, absorbing her outpouring of frustrations with silent acceptance.

Minutes stretched on, each passing second marked by the rhythmic thuds against his chest until, finally, Emma's assault ceased. She clung to him, her grip firm and desperate, as if afraid that releasing him would sever their connection forever. In that tender embrace, Darell exhaled a sigh, his arms encircling her, his fingers gently stroking her hair, eliciting a shiver of delight that danced along her spine.

Emma lifted her head, her tear-streaked face gazing into his as her voice trembled, "Promise me, Darell," she said, "Promise me you'll never leave me again. If you do, I swear I'll find a way to follow you even in death and haunt you forever."

A soft smile graced Darell's lips, "I will never leave you again," he vowed.

Emma bloomed, a radiant smile illuminating her face, as she embraced the promise he made. Darell's heart skipped a beat at the sight, overcome with a rush of affection. He pressed a tender kiss upon her forehead, evoking a blush that colored her cheeks. With a bashful haste, Emma buried her face in his chest, finding solace in his warmth, and Darell couldn't help but smile at her endearing reaction.

His gaze shifted to Lilith, who stood nearby, tears glistening in her eyes, yet wearing a smile that mirrored Emma's. Gesturing for her to approach, Lilith eagerly leaped into his waiting arms, enveloping him in an embrace that spoke of a deep-rooted fear of being alone. Her voice trembled as she pleaded, "I don't want to be alone, brother. Please, never leave me."

Darell's hand caressed her hair and he whispered. "I promise."

He then beckoned Eric and Ariel to join them, and together they formed a circle of unwavering support and love. They held each other tightly, cherishing the warmth and solace that emanated from their unity, the passing minutes marked by the beat of their intertwined hearts.

After a few minutes, Darell and the others settled in their seats in the medicine hall, where Darell proceeded to ask them a series of questions. They shared with him the disheartening news that he had been unconscious for an entire week. This revelation left him in shock, as he realized the anguish they must have experienced seeing him so helpless.

Darell let out a sigh and made a mental note never to exhaust all of his mana again. The consequences were evidently grave, and he didn't want to subject himself or his companions to such distress.

They proceeded to fill him in on their activities during the past week. Darell couldn't help but be taken aback when he learned that they had reached level 10. He felt a sense of satisfaction in their progress.

Furthermore, they revealed that the Dean had been regularly visiting him during his unconscious state. This revelation surprised Darell, as he had never crossed paths with the Dean before. To his surprise, the Dean had been inquiring about Darell's abilities through them.

Darell's eyes narrowed, and he sensed the need to be cautious around the Dean. While he remained unsure of the Dean's intentions, he resolved to distance himself from any plans involving the Dean.

Curiosity piqued, they turned their attention to Darell's remarkable rapid regeneration. In a composed manner, he disclosed that his Space ability granted him a passive regeneration capability. Deep down, he felt guilty for deceiving them, but he believed it was necessary for their own well-being.

Midway through their conversation, the door swung open, and a distinguished Instructor stepped into the room. His entrance was accompanied by an air of formality and respect.

"Congratulations on your remarkable recovery, Darell," the Instructor spoke with a congenial tone, acknowledging the progress he had made.

Darell graciously inclined his head in appreciation, expressing his gratitude for the kind words.

However, the Instructor's demeanor shifted, taking on a more serious tone. With measured words, he relayed a message that instantly unsettled Darell.

"The Dean has specifically requested your presence in his office," the Instructor conveyed, his words laden with a sense of urgency.

Darell's eyes narrowed, his intuition tingling with apprehension. He let out a sigh, a premonition of impending unease settling over him.

With a subtle gesture, Darell acknowledged the Instructor, signifying his willingness to comply. He bid his friends farewell, briefly conveying his departure, and then obediently followed the Instructor's lead, making his way towards the Dean's office.

The Dean's office commanded a central position within the sprawling Academy grounds, encircled by an array of bustling halls and corridors. As Darell approached the building, a sense of unease gnawed at him, casting a shadow over his thoughts.

The structure before him appeared deceptively modest, exuding an air of simplicity that belied its significance. To the uninitiated, it could easily be mistaken for a humble thrift shop rather than the sanctum of the esteemed Dean.

Summoning his resolve, Darell took a deep breath and knocked on the door which swung open of its own accord, granting him entry.

Crossing the threshold, Darell was greeted by an opulent interior that starkly contrasted the unassuming façade he had witnessed moments earlier. His eyes fell upon a figure seated within the room, a man whose flowing white locks spoke of wisdom and experience. Despite his apparent age, his visage possessed an ageless quality, free from any blemishes or lines of time.

The Dean, immersed in his contemplation, glanced up from his teacup, fixing his gaze upon Darell with an inscrutable curiosity. Gesturing towards an empty seat, he silently invited Darell to join him.

Placing his teacup down with deliberate care, the Dean wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter. His piercing eyes narrowed as he broached the subject.

"Do you possess a regeneration ability?" the Dean inquired with a mixture of fascination and skepticism.

Maintaining his composure, Darell nodded calmly, acutely aware that the truth was not an option he could afford to divulge.

Seeking further insight, the Dean probed deeper, his curiosity unabated.

"How did you manage to overcome a rank 06 beast? Given your level, it should have been an insurmountable challenge to even face such a formidable opponent, let alone emerge victorious."

Knowing that revealing the skills bestowed upon him by the enigmatic system was not an option, Darell wove a tale of deception, crafting a plausible facade.

"When I delved into the Space ability scrolls provided by the Instructors in the library, I stumbled upon a skill that allowed me to temporarily enhance my stats at the cost of a considerable amount of MP," Darell fabricated, his tone betraying no hint of dishonesty.

The Dean, though initially skeptical, was left with little choice but to accept Darell's explanation. Aware of the enigmatic nature of Space ability users and their unfathomable skills, he understood that conventional understanding often fell short in comprehending their capabilities.

As the questioning continued, Darell maintained his poker face, adeptly fabricating responses to sidestep any prying inquiries. The encounter with the Dean had proven to be a test of his wits, an intricate dance of half-truths and evasive answers.

As evening settled in, Darell emerged from the Dean's office, a flicker of annoyance evident on his countenance. The Dean's relentless inquiries had taken their toll, each deflected question resulting in a volley of two more. Sensing the Dean's curiosity even about his level, Darell skillfully employed the Conceal skill to adjust his displayed level to the desired value of 10.

Resolving to maintain a healthy distance from the inquisitive Dean, Darell made his way back to his dorm room. A quick bath and change of clothes refreshed his weary spirit before he joined his companions in the bustling dining hall. The relief in their expressions spoke volumes, assuring Darell that his recovery had brought them immense solace.

After a satisfying meal, they bid each other goodnight and retreated to their respective dorm rooms.

Darell lay on his bed, his mind wandering to the events that had transpired while he was unconscious. He replayed the conversation he had with the Dean, analyzing every detail and wondering what the man's intentions were. His thoughts then drifted to the battle with the rank 06 beast, and the warning that the system had given him. He remembered how he had ignored it in the heat of the moment, and a pang of regret shot through him. He vowed to never disregard the system's words again.

As he made this promise to himself, a voice suddenly echoed in his head, startling him.

[ It's been a long time, host.]

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