Chapter 73: Consequences of the Battle
William plunged into the chaotic wreckage, desperately searching for Dixon, Cedric, and Thom. Yet, he found no trace of them. Apprentices, covered in soot and blood, excavated bodies buried under debris everywhere, while others propped up beams to improvise tents. The damage was even more devastating than William had imagined; the ship groaned under the weight of its injuries.
Seeing him shout his friends’ names, several apprentices recognized him. A young man with a pale face and makeshift bandages on his arm approached, pointing inside. "They’re in the makeshift infirmary, young man! Badly wounded but safe. We set it up over there, near the stern mast, where the hull is less damaged." Another apprentice, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, added hoarsely, "Yes, we pulled them from the rubble. They were unconscious, but breathing. You’re lucky, William! For a moment, we thought the worst."
Following the directions, William arrived at the area. Upon entering, relief washed over him as he saw his friends: Dixon, Cedric, and Thom, all lying on improvised stretchers. They had multiple injuries, yes, but they seemed to be only from crushing or blunt force. There were no signs of clean cuts or punctures, which reassured him they hadn’t suffered assassination attempts like him. All of them slept deeply, exhausted, so he decided not to wake them.
He turned to leave, the weight of his friends’ survival contrasting with the tragedy surrounding them. Returning to the main deck, he noticed the shelters were finished, but something else caught his attention: the ship was sailing at an astonishing speed, more than three times faster than before the attack. The salty breeze hit his face with unusual force.
"It seems we were just bait all along, damn it!" William muttered to himself, frustration and helplessness gnawing at his soul. He had fought tooth and nail, risking his life and his friends’, only to be a mere decoy. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As he walked, his eyes fell upon Drevlan, reclining on a stretcher, his gaze lost in the sky. William didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts, but Drevlan noticed his presence. "Hey," Drevlan greeted, his tone tired but with a spark of curiosity. "Looks like you didn’t fare too badly. I didn’t know you had such a powerful medallion. It saved your life."
"Just a coincidence, you know," William maintained his modesty, avoiding seeming arrogant despite his newfound power. For Drevlan, however, William was more than just a comrade; he was someone very dear to his master, Aurus. A Grade 3 talisman was something Drevlan could only dream of, an object that, by his calculations, would make him invincible unless the very Director of the Alliance personally attacked him. To think that Aurus would give something so valuable to his disciple... Drevlan realized he had to reconsider his prejudices. This brat, William, was no ordinary person. He had to befriend him while he still could, because once this "brat" soared, it would be impossible to approach a formal mage so easily.