In the infirmary of Ansen, Dwayne lay alone on a bed, struggling to lift his arm before letting it drop weakly.
“Guess this is my limit.”
Unlike the other injured, he had no visible wounds—yet he could barely move.
According to Oswell, he had exceeded the limited mana output for a human, overloading not just his mana circuits but his body itself.
“A month of this… Still, considering I could’ve died, this isn’t so bad.”
A full recovery would take at least a month.
Possibly longer. But better than death.
‘Surviving is a relief, but I might die of boredom.’
Having someone around would’ve helped, but Oswell had arranged this private room as a reward for his efforts.
A kindness that now felt like a curse.
Swoosh!
Suddenly, a small green bird fluttered in and perched on his chest.
“You’re back.”
This bird had been with him since the uncharted lands.
It had appeared out of nowhere after the battle and stuck by him since.
Despite its cute appearance, he’d been wary at first—wild creatures from the frontier were often dangerous.
But it never pecked or attacked him, just fluttered around, even nuzzling his cheek or head affectionately.
“How’d you even get in here?”
Glancing around, he saw the windows and door were shut.
It had flown out yesterday—where had it come from?
Still, its visits were a welcome distraction.
Watching the bird helped pass the dull hours.
Just as he was idly observing the mysterious little creature—
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
Assuming it was the medic making rounds, he answered casually.
“So this is where you were.”
To his surprise, it wasn’t the medic—it was Ian.
“M-My lord?! What brings you here—?”
He reflexively tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate.
“Relax, stay down.”
“My apologies…”
“Nothing to apologize for. Just focus on recovering.”
“Thank you.”
Touched by Ian’s concern, Dwayne felt a surge of gratitude.
“But why… are you here?”
“Why else? To check on you. Oswell said you’ll be bedridden for a month. How are you holding up?”
“At first, I couldn’t even move my fingers. Now I can barely lift my arms.”
To demonstrate, he shakily raised his trembling arm.
Ian chuckled.
“No need to push yourself. Still, glad you’re improving. Oh, Sera wanted to thank you again. Said she’ll visit once you’re stable.”
He’d wanted to bring her, but the medics restricted visitors for Dwayne’s rest.
Dwayne smiled.
The pride of protecting someone—and being thanked for it—was overwhelming.
As a knight, he’d upheld his vows: defeating foes, never showing his back, and protecting those in need.
His heart swelled with satisfaction.
“By the way, stuck in here for weeks… Must be boring.”
Having been hospitalized himself, Ian understood the agony of confinement.
Back home, he’d at least had smartphones to kill time—here, there was nothing.
The boredom must be unbearable.
“Ah, well… A bird’s been keeping me company. It followed me from the frontier.”
“A bird?”
Ian followed Dwayne’s gaze to the windowsill, where a small, colorful bird perched.
“Never seen one like it. Cute little thing.”
“Didn’t know you were into animals.”
“N-No! It’s not that I like it or anything! It’s just… a rare species, so…!”
‘Why’s he panicking?’
Ian raised an eyebrow as Dwayne rambled defensively.
Who didn’t like cute animals?
‘Ah, right. Northern men think pet-loving is unmanly.’
Not that Ian cared, but he decided to play along.
“Sure, whatever. I’ll leave you two to it.”
“I told you, it’s not like that—”
“Enough.”
Cutting him off, Ian’s expression turned serious.
Dwayne clamped his mouth shut, sensing this wasn’t just a social call.
Ian rarely cuts others words—if he was drawing this out, it was important.
“I heard you killed that troll. One arrow, straight through the skull?”
“I… I truly don’t know how it happened.”
That was all he could say.
Even under questioning from Oswell, Colin, and senior knights, he had no explanation.
He’d assumed Sera helped with magic, but she swore she hadn’t cast anything.
Meaning he’d done it himself—somehow.
“I don’t care how. Just answer my questions.”
Ian’s tone left no room for evasion.
‘Am I under suspicion?’
Dwayne’s palms became sweaty.
He didn’t know what Ian was getting at, but he needed to clarify.
“Lately, have you been seeing flashes of light? Especially in battle?”
“Huh?”
“Brightness overwhelming your vision.”
“Who told you that?”
He’d mentioned it only to the medic and Sera.
“Answer.”
“Y-Yes… It happened…”
Dwayne visibly flinched.
For a knight, vision problems were a critical flaw—enough to disqualify him from service.
“So it’s true.”
Ian crossed his arms, deep in thought.
‘Did Sera tell him?’
She was the only one he’d revealed that secret to, recently.
Given how close she was to Ian, it wouldn’t be surprising if she’d mentioned it.
‘I asked her to keep it secret.’
Had she told Ian out of concern? Or had it slipped out?
The suspicion was hard to ignore.
“Who… told you?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Did the medic mention my vision issues? Or… was it Lady Sera?”
“Huh? What are you talking about? Sera knew too?”
Now it was Dwayne’s turn to be stunned.
He’d assumed Ian heard it from the medic or Sera—but his reaction suggested genuine surprise.
“Keeping secrets from me, are we? Getting cozy already?”
“N-No, it’s not like that!”
“Relax, it’s a joke.”
Ian’s teasing lightened the mood.
At least it confirmed this wasn’t an interrogation.
“Anyway, you’ve had these symptoms. Ever noticed anything else strange?”
“Like what?”
“Wind pushing at your back while running? A sudden breeze cooling you on a sweltering day? The wind dying the moment you nock an arrow?”
“Now that you mention it…”
Looking back, such coincidences had happened often.
Once, a headwind had abruptly shifted mid-shot.
“Why just you? Luck? Maybe. But I doubt it.”
Coincidences this consistent weren’t coincidences.
‘Someone’s orchestrating this.’
And Ian knew exactly who—and why Dwayne was the sole beneficiary.
“You’ve been receiving help from a wind spirit.”
Dwayne stared, disbelief etched on his face.
“M-My lord… Couldn’t it just be chance?”
Statistically unlikely, but not impossible.
Yet Ian’s certainty came from something physical.
His gaze shifted to the windowsill.
“Dwayne. That bird you see—it’s still there?”
“Yes. Can’t you see it?”
“To me, the sill is empty.”
“What…?”
Dwayne’s eyes darted to the brightly colored bird perched plainly in view.
How could Ian not see it?
Either his vision was failing, or Ian’s was.
“Uncontracted spirits are invisible to others. If you can see it, that means it’s been close to you for a long time.”
Prolonged proximity to a spirit builds affinity, laying the foundation for a spirit contract.
“Did the flashes stop after this ‘bird’ appeared?”
“Now that you mention it…”
He hadn’t realized, but the blinding symptoms had stopped since the bird’s arrival.
“Those flashes were unstable spirit energy.”
Ian’s conclusion was firm.
“This spirit was trying to get your attention—manifesting as light. When you were in danger, it lent you its power. That’s why you’re bedridden now. But using that power stabilized the energy, allowing you to see it properly.”
Dwayne trembled as if struck.
“So this… spirit saved me?”
“In a way. Though wielding that power isn’t for just anyone.”
The implication was clear: Dwayne had talent.
‘I thought he was just a good archer.’
To uncover spiritual aptitude on top of that?
For Ian, this was an unexpected boon.
Among races, only elves, humans, and dwarves could contract spirits—and even then, true spiritmasters were vanishingly rare.
In the entire empire, they numbered fewer than five.
‘I suspected, but…’
He’d never imagined a spirit would choose Dwayne.
The realization had come after hearing about the troll fight.
Initially, Ian just wanted to know how Dwayne pulled it off.
But Oswell’s account left him stunned.
To confirm, he’d cross-checked with Sera and multiple soldiers.
The evidence was undeniable.
“Congratulations, Dwayne. You’re a spiritmaster now.”
The bird—no, the spirit—fluttered its wings, as if in agreement.
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