Academy's Drunk Fighter

“Haah... haaah.”

I threw the bottle to draw the old man’s attention, then quickly checked the injured.

A man with both arms severed—and Noah.

Just those two, at least for now.

The man’s injuries were so severe that it wasn’t even a question of rehabilitation. It was a miracle if he could survive at all.

Even with magic, you couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.

Noah looked a bit pale, but thankfully didn’t seem to have any serious visible wounds.

“What about the others?”

“They’re somewhere else...!”

“Good.”

I wasn’t too late.

That alone was enough to ease the pounding in my chest—but looking at the old man in front of me, I felt tension coil back into my fingers.