Chapter 154: Living Flesh and Dead Stone
The morning turned out cool. A month ago, the wheels of his chair would have bogged down here in mud and ash. Now, the rubber hummed quietly against the tightly packed stone grit. Dornheim was changing. The main street no longer resembled a muddy trench—Darwin and the workers had laid down drainage channels, and the rainwater ran off without turning the square into a bog.
Iron stopped near the porch of his new workshop. It featured a stone base, locked tight with steel brackets, and an upper structure of blackened timber as hard as iron, completely interwoven with Elyria's roots.
He looked down at his legs, hidden beneath the heavy fabric. Lately, the phantom pains had shifted. Before, it had been a miserable, burning sensation. Last night, something else had emerged.
Iron focused.
Beneath the cloth, the toe of his boot twitched faintly.
Iron froze. Had he imagined it? He tried again. Slowly, with an exertion that instantly brought a bead of sweat to his forehead. The toes of his right foot shuddered and curved slightly downward.
Lumon, he commanded mentally. His pulse spiked, though his face remained a mask. Full scan. Status of lower limbs and nerve clusters.
[Analysis Complete]
Muscle and Bone Tissue Regeneration Progress: 31%
Magical Channel Restoration: 37%
Status: Partial motor function restored.
Iron exhaled heavily, his fingers clamping onto the armrests.
Reason for the sudden spike? he asked dryly, suppressing his emotions.
[Notice]
No anomalies or external magical interference detected. Cause of accelerated regeneration: alteration in the chemical composition of nutritional intake. The transition from a low-calorie carbohydrate diet to the regular consumption of animal protein and saturated fats has concluded. The surplus of calories and amino acids has allowed the organism to initiate cellular repair and the regeneration of magical circuits in standard operating mode.
Iron leaned back in his chair. A barely perceptible, cold smirk touched his lips.
The heavy door of a neighboring hybrid house creaked open. Walter stepped out onto the street, tightening the leather straps on his worn breastplate as he walked.
The wheels hummed across the gravel. Hybrid houses. A stone base forged from the remnants of the old town hall. Steel brackets courtesy of Darwin. And Elyria's roots binding the timber and stone together, fusing each building into a single monolith.
Iron rolled past the forge under construction. He stopped, looking at Walter. The captain was testing the new gates, welded together from whatever they had managed to salvage from the ruins.
"Holding up?" Iron asked.
Walter kicked the gate leaf with his boot. The metal didn't even rattle.
"Solid as a rock," the captain grunted. "But the hinges are creaking. Could use something to grease them other than boar fat."
"We'll manage it."
Nearby, leaning against the rough wall of one of the houses, stood Noah.
"Surveying your domain?"
"Yeah," Iron replied calmly.
Noah pushed off the wall, adjusting his harness. "Alright. Going to take a walk. The woods have gotten a bit too quiet."
"Don't go looking for trouble," Iron called after him.
"Me? Never," came the distant reply. "Just doing a headcount."
Iron watched him go.
Noah walked down the old trail, rolling a pine needle around in his mouth. Dust on his boots, sun in his eyes. Absolute boredom.
He was just about to turn back when the air ahead seemed to fracture.
A dull impact. The loud snap of timber. And right after, a choked scream that cut off mid-syllable.
Noah vanished behind the nearest oak in a flash.
The clearing was a mess. A massive hulk, a good two and a half meters tall. A bull’s head, shaggy reddish fur, and human arms as thick as logs. In its hands, the creature gripped a chunk of a tree trunk banded with strips of rusted iron.
Beneath the monster's feet, a few gray shapes scrambled. Humans. Four of them. One was already motionless, smashed into the trunk of a birch tree. The others huddled against exposed roots, paralyzed with terror.
The beast raised its makeshift weapon for a finishing blow.
"What do you think you're doing here?" Noah said quietly.
The monster froze. It turned slowly. Jets of steam hissed from its nostrils. Catching sight of the solitary figure in the dusty cloak, it gave a short grunt and charged forward, bringing the log overhead.
Noah stepped aside. A gust of wind rushed past. The log gouged into the earth exactly where Noah had stood a second before.
A lunge. A flash of steel.
Noah's short dagger drove home right under the monster's knee. The tendon snapped with a dry pop. The minotaur bellowed, collapsing onto its side. Noah was already on its nape.
One precise slash across the throat. The creature kicked its hooves a couple more times, then went still, bubbling into the mud.
Noah wiped his blade on the dead monster's fur. He looked at the people.
Filthy, clad in rags that had once been proper clothes. Shaking. One woman clutched a bundle close—a child, by the looks of it.
"Get up. Move it," Noah threw out.
They didn't budge. They stared at him as if he were just another monster.
"Are you... are you from the city?" one of the men croaked, wiping blood from his face.
"None of your business," Noah said, walking closer and unceremoniously checking their necks and arms. No tattoos from Reinhart. No traces of magic. "Follow me. If anyone falls behind or decides to drop dead on the way, do it quietly. I have no intention of carrying you."
Thirty minutes later, Noah and the refugees reached the gates of Dornheim.
Noah entered first, shoulders slumped, looking utterly bored. Behind him, three figures stumbled along: a man with a battered face, a woman gripping her bundle, and a teenager with eyes wide from terror.
They halted, freezing in place.
Iron was waiting for them in the square. His chair was stationed right by the entrance to the infirmary. Walter stood beside him, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"What's this?" Iron nodded toward the refugees.
"A monster jumped them a couple of miles out. One got flattened, I brought these three back," Noah muttered.
The woman sobbed. "We... we were just traveling..." the man began, but his voice died under Iron's gaze.
"Elyria. Albert. Outside."
The spirit detached herself from the workshop wall. She drifted downward, hovering a couple of inches above the ground.
"More of these sticky creatures," Elyria grimaced, covering her nose with a translucent sleeve. "Iron, why must I waste my energy on this garbage?"
"Because it's your job," he replied dryly.
Albert emerged from the infirmary. The old physician gave a silent nod, unfurling a clean piece of linen over a nearby crate.
"Over here," Albert barked shortly.
Elyria sighed but complied. She extended her hand toward the woman. A greenish luminescence softly brushed against a deep wound on her shoulder. The skin began to knit together, the dirt forced outward by the magic.
The woman cried out in surprise, but the pain vanished. Albert immediately applied a bandage.
"Thank you..." the man gasped, trying to catch Iron's eye. "You saved us. We will pray for you..."
"Save your prayers for those who believe in them," Iron turned his chair around. "There are no saints here. Tomorrow, Walter will hand you shovels. You'll be clearing the drainage channels. Those who don't work don't eat."
He glanced at Noah, who had already stretched out on a nearby bench.
"Tomorrow I’d like to talk to them. Set it up."
"What?" Noah said irritably. "Why the hell should I do that?"
"Well... I’m saying please," Iron said in a soft tone.
Noah just exhaled and headed deeper into Dornheim.
"Clara! Iron wanted to tell you something, listen to him!"