Chapter 53: Morning After the Storm
Roxy lay alone in the quiet room, her breathing slow and uneven as dawn crept gently through the narrow window. Thin rays of sunlight filtered past the curtains, painting soft golden lines across the wooden floor and the edge of the bed. Outside, distant sounds of life—footsteps, murmured voices, the clatter of tools and so on.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Slowly, as if waking from a dream she wasn't ready to leave, Roxy opened her eyes.
For a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling above her. The wooden beams swam slightly in her vision, blurring and sharpening again as her mind struggled to catch up with her body. She exhaled heavily, then again—each breath deeper, harsher than the last, as though her lungs were still fighting to remember how to work properly.
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
Then the memories came rushing back.
Fire.
Wind.
The ground shattering beneath her feet.
The monster's roar.
Zodac—
Roxy jolted upright with a sharp gasp.
Pain exploded behind her eyes, a vicious spike that tore through her skull and forced a cry from her lips. She clutched her head instinctively, fingers threading into her tangled hair as she winced.
"Ah—!"
Her body swayed, the room spinning briefly before she steadied herself. Her hair felt rough, stiff with dried sweat and dust. As she glanced down, confusion flickered across her face.
She was no longer wearing her battle clothes.
Instead, she was dressed in simple nightwear, soft fabric resting against skin still marked with faint bruises and aches.
"What…?" she whispered.
Her gaze darted around the unfamiliar room—the wooden table, the chair, the neatly stacked supplies, the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air.
"What's going on?"
"What happened…?"
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes widened in sudden realization.
"Zodac!"
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, panic surging through her veins. The moment her feet touched the floor, her knees buckled violently.
"Ugh—!"
She collapsed back onto the mattress, a sharp groan escaping her as pain flared through her legs. Her muscles trembled, weak and unresponsive, as though her body had been drained of everything it once had.
Roxy lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling again, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She clenched her fists, frustration and fear knotting together inside her.
After a few slow, careful breaths, she tried again.
This time, she pushed herself up gradually, waiting as the dizziness subsided. Her head throbbed, her knees ached, but she managed to stand. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips.
"I'm… alive," she murmured.
She moved slowly, deliberately, afraid that any sudden motion might send her crashing back down. After washing up and letting the warm water soothe her aching body, she dressed carefully—boots, cloak, each movement measured and cautious.
Her eyes drifted toward the corner of the room.
Her staff stood there, resting quietly against the wall.
Seeing it brought a strange comfort to her chest.
She grabbed it quickly, as if afraid it might vanish, then hastily packed the rest of her belongings. Without making a sound, she slipped out of the room and down the inn's stairs, leaving behind the stillness of the morning.
Outside, the town greeted her with noise and motion.
The streets were alive.
People moved about in groups, repairing broken stalls, lifting debris, reinforcing damaged buildings. Laughter—soft but genuine—mingled with the rhythmic sounds of hammers and saws. Children ran past carrying planks too big for their arms, their faces bright with excitement rather than fear.
Roxy slowed her steps, taking it all in.
Yesterday, this place had been filled with terror.
Now… hope.
A small smile curved her lips.
*This… this is why,* she thought.
*This is why I want to become a hero.*
Her grip tightened around her staff as warmth spread through her chest.
*To protect smiles. To give people hope. To make sure no one has to live in fear again.*
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself.
*A symbol… not of power—but of reassurance.*
She reached the town square and stopped, turning slowly from side to side. Her eyes scanned every face that passed by—villagers, adventurers, merchants.
But not the one she was looking for.
Her smile faltered.
"He's gone…" she whispered softly, a hint of sadness slipping into her voice.
"You seem to be doing well."
The familiar voice sent a jolt through her spine.
Roxy's eyes widened as she spun around.
There he was.
Zodac stood a short distance away, arms relaxed at his sides, red hair catching the sunlight. He looked worn—dust still clung faintly to his clothes, faint marks of battle visible—but he was standing. Breathing. Alive.
Her face lit up instantly.
"Yes! I'm fine!" she said quickly, almost too enthusiastically. "A little weak, but… better than expected!"
Zodac studied her quietly, his sharp gaze lingering as if searching for signs of lingering danger.
"Good," he said at last, turning his attention toward the town.
"You did well last night," Roxy said, her voice softer now.
Then the memory of him being struck flashed in her mind, and worry surged again.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, stepping closer.
"I'm fine," he replied calmly. "All thanks to you."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"We… did well," he continued. "You used your last ounce of mana to heal me. If not for that, we'd both be dead."
"So…" Roxy said with a playful smile, "you could say I was the hero."
Zodac paused.
"Don't get—" he stopped, glancing at her.
"…Yes," he admitted. "You could say that."
Her smile widened.
"Are you staying?" she asked hopefully.
"No."
The answer was immediate. Cold. Final.
Her brows knitted together. "Why? You need rest."
"I have other matters to attend to," he said. "My journey is just beginning."
She studied him closely, then sighed.
"You know… you don't have to be alone."
Zodac met her gaze.
He reached into the cross bag hanging at his chest and pulled out a small silver vial. Opening it, he raised it to his lips before handing it to her. Without hesitation, she drank, recognizing the liquid.
When he took his turn, white smoke escaped his mouth.
From Roxy's nose and ears, silver vapor slowly sizzled out, making her blink in surprise.
For a brief moment—just a heartbeat—Zodac smiled.
Then it was gone.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"You could… join my crew."
"Hm."
"A generous offer," he said, shaking his head. "But I decline."
"I'm better off alone."
"I understand," Roxy said quietly.
"Roxy!" a voice called out.
Her teammates approached, packs slung over their shoulders.
"Seems you're needed," Zodac said.
"My work is never done," she replied with a small smile.
"It was an honor fighting beside you," she said sincerely. "I hope we meet again."
"You too," he replied. "Lightning Mage Roxy."
She froze—then smiled softly.
As he leaned forward, her heart skipped.
*This is my first kiss…* she thought, eyes closing instinctively—
—but instead, something was pressed into her palm.
She blinked.
Silver coins.
"What is this?" she asked.
"I couldn't let your teammates see," he said. "Might give them unsettling ideas."
"Ah… right." She laughed softly. "Thank you."
"But what for" She asked,
"100 silvers of the 200 silvers we were promised" He said,
"Ooh I totally forgot about that" He said.
"You're welcome."
Zodac turned and walked away.
Roxy watched him until he disappeared beyond the town gate—then finally turned back toward her crew, the pouch clutched tightly in her hand, her heart strangely full.