Isis's injuries healed over five days. After repeated examinations by the physician Lady Sophia had brought in, she was confirmed to be completely recovered.
Though much of the credit went to alchemical remedies like Potions and Max Potions, the speed of her recovery still left Altaïr astonished.
For ordinary people, even with all kinds of medicines, injuries of the same severity would take at least half a month to heal. Even hunters with robust physiques would need a week to ten days.
Isis had cut that time in half.
To celebrate her recovery and thank her for her selfless guidance, Altaïr decided to treat Isis to another big meal.
From their time together, he had noticed that she was happiest only when eating.
It didn't matter what it was, exquisite dishes, ordinary grilled meat, or tough, hard-to-chew rations, as long as it was food, she would eat it with a blissful expression.
Altaïr had originally planned to take Isis to Chef Meow's shop for the meal, but before they could even step out of the guild hall tavern, Lady Sophia stopped them.
As the guild master of Val Habar and the person in charge of the Hunter's Guild Hall, she found it quite embarrassing that the younger generation had to go all the way to Chef Meow's place for a proper feast.
So, she pushed Altaïr and Isis back into their seats at the tavern and ordered the Guild Hall's Felyne Chefs to serve a table full of dishes.
The drinks were milk and juice, no alcohol.
She didn't mind Altaïr drinking, but she forbade Isis from having any, saying that Isis had just recovered from severe injuries and shouldn't consume alcohol.
To hunters, such reasoning was pure nonsense, how many hunters drank heavily while covered in bandages? Of course, Isis didn't dare say that to Lady Sophia.
Her rebellious yet obedient, aggrieved expression reminded Altaïr of himself facing Teacher Karin.
Sighing, he asked the tavern server for a large beer mug, filled it halfway with tea, mixed in half a cup of soda water, and pushed it toward Isis.
"At least it looks like beer."
Isis: "..."
Hunters at the next table glanced over, exchanged looks with their companions, and burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Kids, cheers!" they said, raising their glasses in a toast.
Altaïr shot them a sidelong glance. There was no malice, but the teasing was obvious. Still, hunters were mostly rough and straightforward folks, and these two were already half-drunk. Best to ignore them.
But to Altaïr's surprise, Isis, who was usually good-natured, stood up at that moment.
For various reasons, her mood had been sour lately, and having her precious mealtime interrupted made her temples twitch with irritation.
She downed the entire mug of sparkling tea in one go, then strode over to the table of the two hunters who had teased them.
Thump! She slammed her elbow onto the table. "Let's arm wrestle!"
Both Altaïr and the two half-drunk hunters stared blankly, utterly confused.
How had this suddenly turned into an arm-wrestling challenge?
But drunk people weren't exactly logical. After a moment's pause, the hunter who had "toasted" them earlier laughed heartily, rolled up his sleeve, and revealed a bulging arm muscle. "Come on, little girl! Be careful not to hurt your wrist!"
Thump!
Almost the instant their hands clasped, the drunk hunter's knuckles were slammed against the tabletop.
His smile froze, his face and neck flushing crimson as he shouted, "That didn't count! You cheated! Again!"
Isis didn't mind, and the two repositioned their hands while the drunk hunter's companion volunteered to referee.
"Both sides ready! Three, two, one! Go!"
Thump!
The outcome was no different, the drunk hunter's hand was once again pinned to the table, the force nearly knocking him off his chair.
"Let me give it a try!"
The hunter who'd just been refereeing shoved aside his dazed companion, who was still staring at his own hand.
Thump!
The result remained unchanged.
Having effortlessly crushed her opponents, Isis felt refreshed and was about to return to her seat to continue her feast when she realized the commotion had drawn the attention of more hunters nearby.
Some laughed and scolded the two drunk hunters for bullying someone younger, and most absurdly, losing anyway.
More wore expressions of eager curiosity, crowding around to ask for their own turn.
Surrounded by the crowd, Isis glanced uneasily at Altaïr, who gave a dry chuckle. "Looks like you won't get to eat in peace until you've taken them all down."
Hearing this, Isis's face darkened. She moved to an empty table and sat down. "Hurry up, then. One at a time."
A few minutes later, the guild hall tavern had grown much quieter, with over a dozen more hunters now staring blankly at their own hands.
Even a former seed contestant in arm-wrestling tournaments, a Great Sword user whose arm was thicker than an ordinary person's head, had been defeated after a stalemate of more than ten seconds. After that, no one else dared challenge her strength.
Isis shook out her slightly sore arm and returned to her seat, digging into her meal with gusto.
Altaïr stared for a long moment at Isis's arm, clearly muscular and well-defined, yet not excessively thick.
He'd considered joining the challenge earlier, but after watching Isis flip hunter after hunter, each clearly stronger than him, he abandoned any thought of testing his strength against hers.
Her physical talent was downright monstrous. Beyond her height and reach, whether it was her recovery speed or raw power, she surpassed not only ordinary people but even most hunters.
Only when Isis had devoured more than half of the massive spread and began to slow her pace did Altaïr tentatively ask, "Hey, with strength like that, haven't you ever considered using heavy weapons like the Great Sword?"
"I can use the Great Sword," Isis replied. Her eating wasn't crude, but it was astonishingly fast, in the blink of an eye, another large chunk of roasted leg meat vanished into her mouth. "My most familiar weapons are the Great Sword and Long Sword. I've also practiced Sword and Shield as a basic weapon, but I've hardly touched any others."
"Then why not continue training with the Great Sword?" Altaïr couldn't help asking.
Isis paused mid-bite. After a brief hesitation, she said quietly, "I'm not good at seizing opportunities."
Hearing this, Altaïr understood.
The Great Sword often gave the impression of being a 'brute's weapon,' but that was a misconception. This weapon has slow attack speed and requires frequent charging, placing nearly harsh demands on the user's judgment. Simply standing in front of the monster mindlessly charging won't cut it.
Based on previous collaborations, her combat style leans toward caution, occasionally missing crucial attack opportunities, a significant drawback for a Great Sword user.
"Timing can be practiced in actual combat," Altaïr mused, stroking his chin. "What if we both used Great Swords and synchronized our attacks? Would that make it easier to lock onto the monster's head?"
Isis: "?"
What kind of mind comes up with such a ridiculous tactic?
The Great Sword's attack radius is about three meters, within that range, a slight misstep could bisect your partner. What level of tacit understanding would it take to achieve perfectly synchronized attacks like you described?
Altaïr clearly realized this too, waving his hand to dismiss the idea. "Just thinking out loud, treat it as a joke."
"By the way, since your injuries have healed completely, we should prepare to go deal with that Barroth..." Altaïr made a chopping gesture with his hand.
"Mm." Isis' expression turned serious. "Let's accept the mission after finishing our meal. How about departing tomorrow morning?"
"No problem." Altaïr speared a piece of grilled fish with his fork and popped it into his mouth. "I appreciate decisive action."
"Speaking of which, maybe I should use the Long Sword this time? Always hacking at training dummies gets boring."
"...You've practiced Long Sword for less than a week. Could you be more prudent?"
"Fine, I'll bring my Sword and Shield too." Altaïr shrugged, casually adding, "Actually, you could consider trying other weapons too."