She Who Became Immortal

The first patient to receive healing was a boy named Romeo, a low-ranking member of the Golt Armed Trading Company. With nearly black-gray hair and a casual demeanor, he was a striking figure.

Accompanying him into the room was a young lion beastwoman named Lapis Kruger, who introduced herself as the younger sister of the current Beast King, Brandon Kruger.

Although Mizetta had no knowledge of the Beast King.

"So, you’re the ‘Saintess of Healing,’ are you? This boy here had his arm broken when he was thrown by a boar beastman named Zonda Pauga during the last battle. He used to be our enemy, but now he’s one of us. Can you fix him?"

Lapis leaned back with her arms crossed in front of her chest, laughing heartily. She seemed indifferent to Romeo’s plight but did not show any intention of mistreating him either.

"If you can heal him, great. If not, that’s understandable," she said, giving off a nonchalant air.

From the start, there was no expectation for her to be a miracle worker.

"I should be able to heal it. Please remove the bandages and show me your arm," Mizetta replied.

She examined the injury carefully. When it came to fractures, it was crucial to be meticulous because improper healing could cause the bone to mend incorrectly. With time on her side, she preferred to be cautious. In an emergency, she would have to heal it hastily, but this wasn’t one of those times.

Upon inspection, Romeo’s fracture was quite severe, but it was within Mizetta’s capability to mend with ease.

As she swiftly completed the healing, both Romeo and Lapis looked on in astonishment.

"That’s seriously impressive..." Romeo said in awe.

"Wow, this is astonishing. I was surprised when another tribe I knew forged a sword in the river, but this is on another level. I don’t know what Euphemia’s intentions were in capturing you, but having you among the enemies would be quite a nuisance," Lapis commented, equally amazed.

"Really, thank you so much!" Romeo said, standing straight and bowing deeply.

Mizetta felt a peculiar sense of discomfort from the gratitude expressed. It had been quite some time since she had been thanked so genuinely.

Even though she had been thanked countless times while healing nobles across the Louisse Kingdom under Victor’s guidance, this was different. Why did it feel so strange?

"We should also express our thanks. If there's anything we can do to help you, we will. Although it won’t be much," Lapis said, laughing heartily.

Mizetta, reacting almost instinctively, asked, "By the way, what do you think of Lady Euphemia?"

 

---

After healing the continuous stream of injured soldiers, Mizetta had quickly treated all the wounded in the fortress.

Counting them, she knew that apart from Romeo, who was originally from the Golt Armed Trading Company, thirty-two soldiers had been injured, none of whom were critically wounded.

This meant that Euphemia's side had managed to repel the Golt Armed Trading Company and the Tiant Territory Knights without any casualties.

Mizetta had treated several boar beastmen, a few more orc beastmen, some taurus beastmen, dog beastmen, and even some rare baboon beastmen. Notably, a taurus beastman woman had injured her finger while cutting vegetables in the kitchen.

In terms of numbers, the human side had a significant advantage.

The Golt Armed Trading Company, led by Prince Blitz, had around four hundred combatants alone, and with the addition of the Tiant Territory Knights, the total exceeded six hundred.

In contrast, Euphemia’s side, limited to combatants, probably didn’t number more than two hundred. It seemed an insurmountable mismatch at first glance.

However, they had not lost a single soldier and had concluded the initial battle successfully.

It was likely that Blitz's side had sustained considerable casualties.

If battles continued at this rate, the outcome would likely be decided soon. Thus, it was expected that Blitz’s forces would not attack in the same manner again. Yet, Mizetta found it hard to predict what might happen next.

She sighed.

At that moment—

"Feeling exhausted? Dinner should be ready soon, but if you prefer to rest first, I can have it brought to you later," said the man who had been silently standing near the door.

Junos Grimoire.

He was a survivor from the demon invasion of Escard. He and the remaining demons had encountered Euphemia, who descended the hill under the moonlight, dividing themselves into those who would fight and those who would flee.

He was originally from the Yunofeliza clan, now walking the path illuminated by Euphemia Grimwood—the tribe of Grimoire. The tribe of freedom and joy.

"No, I’m not particularly tired. The people here weren’t physically exhausted, so controlling the healing magic wasn’t too difficult. I’m not very fatigued," Mizetta responded.

If there were another hundred patients with similar injuries, she could heal them without issue. If pressed for time, she would use area spells, but since there was ample time, she treated each case individually.

"Stunning, to say the least. As expected of the 'Saintess of Healing.' It seems the nobles who chose you over Euphemia made a decision that wasn’t entirely wrong," Junos said, his tone devoid of emotion.

Despite his thin, violet-hued skin—a hallmark of demon kind—Junos was a tall, striking warrior. His appearance might have swayed Mizetta had she not seen so many handsome nobles from Louisse. What set Junos apart was a distinct aura, something Mizetta hadn’t encountered in most people.

If anything, he resembled Marquis Leopold Illyrius.

It was an unyielding core, a sense of unshakable resolve that made one hesitate to intrude. It was a kind of nobility that seemed to dare one to touch it.

In contrast, the highest-ranking noble Mizetta knew, Prince Blitz Ors Louisse, would likely evade or circumvent any difficulty set before him with ease.

Leopold, however—faced with such adversity, might crush it into dust without a single twitch of his brow. He would spare no means, employ every strategy, and overcome all obstacles.

What of Junos Grimoire?

He seemed the type to cut through obstacles with a single, decisive strike, advancing straight ahead.

There was something he would never compromise, a resolve to advance without yielding or deviating... that’s the impression he gave.

"What are your thoughts on Lady Euphemia?" Mizetta asked, aware that her question might be considered impertinent.

Junos didn’t seem offended. Instead, he lifted the corners of his mouth slightly, as if amused.

"How do I view that audacious brat? It’s simple. She’s our guide, our connection, our dearest friend."

There was no greater source of pride for him. With a tone of deep affection, Junos continued.

"Too bad. The humans discarded her. She miraculously ended up before us. We were never the ones to discard Euphemia. She will never return to the humans."

A chill ran through Mizetta, as if icy hands had grasped her heart directly. She felt a freezing dread, her breath catching in her throat.

Up until now, Junos had silently observed Mizetta’s healing, showing no reaction—neither displeased nor pleased. It was only now that she realized the depth of his animosity.

Junos Grimoire harbored a profound disdain for humans.

It wasn’t due to the slaughter of the Yunofeliza tribe, which he had probably come to accept and reconcile with.

No, it was something different.

Junos bore a deep-seated aversion to the humans who had inflicted injustice upon Euphemia. It was not hatred but a profound loathing—like finding a swarm of insects under a large stone or discovering leeches clinging to one’s legs after wading into a swamp.

It was repulsive.

He neither hated nor resented nor cursed them, but he loathed them. He could never allow something so detestable to approach his cherished friend.

'Ah, so that’s it.'

Mizetta couldn’t help but smile oddly at the realization. An inexplicable joy bubbled up from within, even as icy fingers gripped her heart.

"Yes… I agree. I think it’s a waste for the humans to have Euphemia."

She was carried along by the current, drifting as she went, and would likely continue to do so.

She would heal anyone. She would mend any wound. That was her value. That was her only purpose. Her own will was irrelevant, a meaningless value.

She didn’t know what those she healed would do.

She didn’t know whom those she healed might kill.

She didn’t know what degradation the lives she saved might bring.

Euphemia Grimwood had not concerned herself with Mizetta.

But this man, with his pale violet skin, Euphemia’s friend—

—He would never forgive her.

'Thank you.'

'Please, continue not to forgive me.'