Chapter 37: TUNA?
The sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the blood-soaked ridge where the survivors stood amid the carnage. Elira collapsed against a boulder, her face contorted in pain as she clutched her wounded thigh.
"Elira needs help," Captain Diana said, kneeling beside the injured warrior. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage, staining the rocks beneath her.
Lyra and Naia rushed to Elira’s side. Naia tore away the blood-soaked fabric, revealing a jagged wound that penetrated deep into the muscle.
"It’s worse than I thought," Naia whispered, her hands trembling as she summoned what little energy remained in her depleted body. A thin stream of water materialized between her palms, glowing faintly as she directed it toward the wound.
Lyra joined her sister’s efforts, adding her own dwindling power. The water shimmered weakly as it touched Elira’s torn flesh, the healing magic barely penetrating the surface.
’Why waste time on this tiny wound when my Eren is out there waiting?’ the kitchen servant thought, watching the princesses struggle with their healing attempt. Her eyes darted to the horizon, calculating how much further they could travel if they abandoned this pointless delay. ’Every moment spent here is another moment Eren slips further from my grasp.’
Elira groaned, her head falling back against the rock. "It’s not working," she gasped through gritted teeth.
"We’re too exhausted," Lyra admitted, wiping sweat from her brow. The elemental combat had drained their reserves, leaving barely enough energy for even basic healing.
The kitchen servant approached slowly, her face betraying nothing of her inner impatience. She knelt beside Elira, her movements precise and economical. Her eyes locked onto the wound with intense focus. While the others were distracted by Elira’s pain, the servant’s gaze never wavered from the injury.
Moments later, without anyone noticing her involvement, the edges of Elira’s wound began to knit together. Muscle tissue reconnected, blood vessels sealed, and skin gradually closed over the injury until only a pink scar remained where the deadly gash had been.
"It’s—it’s healing," Naia exclaimed, looking between her hands and the wound in confusion. "But how?"