Chapter 67: My Whole Family Is Crazy?!

Maria Nearl had always believed the people in her life perfectly embodied the poetic idiom of “Wind, Flower, Snow, and Moon.”

Her older sister, Margaret, was the “Wind” of freedom that shattered the cage of her expectations. Her aunt, Zofia, was the “Flower” that bloomed silently to nurture her growth. The old craftsman who taught her the hammer and anvil was the silent, substantial “Snow.” And the honorable knights she sparred with in the arena were the “Moon” that witnessed her steady progress.

But then came the Doctor. If her life was a poem, he was the typo that ruined the entire stanza.

When he wasn’t actively causing trouble, the Doctor was barely a “Human.” But the moment he dragged her down into his chaotic schemes just to use her as an aggro-sponge, he became an absolute “Monster.” And her uncle, Młynar, who ruthlessly whipped her as collateral damage without even questioning the actual culprit? He had already become the literal “Wind” whistling from the tip of a lash!

“No wonder they say suffering is the source of all art!” Maria declared loudly, slamming her mug down and gulping a massive mouthful of cheap Kazimierz liquor. She was holding court at her usual tavern, venting her frustrations to anyone who would listen.

However, her drinking buddies—who usually cheered her on with rowdy enthusiasm—were dead silent. Instead of applauding her poetic misery, they were frantically winking, coughing, and gesturing toward the window booth.

“Maria, the Nearl family tradition doesn’t exactly encourage speaking ill of others behind their backs, does it? Or did you and he simply have a minor disagreement?”

Sitting gracefully by the window, bathed in the tavern’s warm light, was the superstar knight whose name echoed across all of Kazimierz. Margaret Nearl. The Radiant Knight looked up from her tea, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze.

“Can you tell me what happened at home?” Margaret asked, her tone a soothing melody to Maria’s ringing ears. “It isn’t convenient for me to return just yet, but I can certainly help you assess the situation.”

She knew it! There was still one sane, normal person left in this cursed bloodline!

Excitedly, Maria launched into a highly exaggerated, tearful recount of the Doctor’s various crimes: stealing the family’s official household registration book, shamelessly freeloading on their food and electricity, not even sparing the premium nightcap milk Młynar drank before bed, and deliberately provoking her uncle to his face—a stunt that resulted in Maria getting whipped twice in the crossfire!

She finished her rant, panting, waiting expectantly for her most trusted sister to deliver a righteous judgment.

Sure enough, Margaret’s brow furrowed in deep thought.

“You think it’s way out of line too, right?!” Maria leaned in, her eyes sparkling with hope. Sure, the Doctor was undeniably handsome, dangerously charismatic, and completely hit every single one of her aesthetic weak points—but taking two lashes for his trolling was enough to shatter any waifu fantasies she might have harbored!

Margaret solemnly pulled out a small tactical notebook and a pen. “Maria, what brand of milk did Uncle buy? Let me note it down and report it to the Rhodes Island logistics department when I return to the landship. It’s incredibly rare to see him show a preference for a specific brand of food. We should keep it in stock for the Doctor.”

Maria froze.

Margaret continued, tapping her pen thoughtfully. “Also, why couldn’t he just tell me directly? I could have easily gone back to the estate to fetch the household registration book for him. Has he been overwhelmed with work lately?”

Bathed in the blinding, holy light of her sister’s absolute loyalty to that man, Maria’s soul left her body. She began to seriously doubt whether she was the one who had gone insane, or if her entire family had just been completely brainwashed.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion rattled the tavern windows. Plaster dusted down from the ceiling.

Maria instinctively whipped her head around. “What’s happening outside?!”

Margaret was already on her feet, her casual demeanor vanishing as she snatched up her sword. “Hurry, we need to help put out the fire! I heard reports that a rogue Sarkaz mercenary has been committing bombings and assassinations in the city!”

Beep, beep, beep—

A harsh, rhythmic alarm echoed through the smoke-choked alleys. Wis’adel smoothly holstered her weapon, gathering the Nachzehrers that had been aggressively guarding her perimeter.

“You’re truly a loyal little pet. Didn’t you hate his guts before? Now you’ve degraded into his faithful attack dog?”

The mocking voice echoed from inside the Revenant Launcher strapped to her side. A sharp-tongued Nachzehrer spirit reluctantly floated out, trailing behind the white-haired Sarkaz as she began her rapid exfiltration.

Wis’adel clicked her tongue, her crimson eyes narrowing. “What, aren’t you afraid I’ll run back and tell him exactly what you just said?”

She vaulted effortlessly over a crumbling wall, parkouring between rooftops and dilapidated urban structures. Her long, spade-tipped tail swept left and right, acting as a perfect counterbalance. Her lithe waist tightened and relaxed with every kinetic bound, making her look as weightless as a wisp of residual smoke escaping an explosion.

Another Nachzehrer joined the peanut gallery, its ethereal voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, of course she retaliated. And do you know what her grand ‘revenge’ was? Refusing to pass on a message he asked her to deliver! Hahaha! A Sarkaz in her twenties, and the silent treatment is the only retaliation you can muster? Pathetic! When I was your age, I could sever a Sankta’s head from their shoulders blindfolded!”

Wis’adel let out a cold, melodic sneer. “Heh. You forgetful old fossil. I’m significantly younger than you were, and I’ve already blown the head off a Behemoth. Did the Originium rot your memory?”

The second Nachzehrer flared with embarrassed rage. “There you go, bringing up your one glorious old record again! You’re probably going to spend your entire pathetic life wallowing in the fantasy memories of Babel!”

The first spirit chimed back in, merciless. “Exactly! If you don’t forgive the man, then rush in and kill him! If you do forgive him, then rush in and sleep with him! What is the point of you dilly-dallying out here playing bodyguard games?!”

Seeing the ancient spirits completely lose their temper, Wis’adel chuckled. The chaotic banter actually put her in a fantastic mood.

She leapt from the edge of a high roof, tucking into a flawless roll as she hit the pavement to dissipate the kinetic force. Without missing a beat, she sprinted wildly toward the outskirts of the city, leaving the blaring sirens and the burning chaos far behind her in the night.

‘You’re right about one thing this time,’she thought, a rare, melancholic softness touching her sharp features.’I am indeed still living in the shadow of the old Babel.”He promised to build a tower that will never collapse. A real tower. That is why Her Highness believes in him…’

The first half of her life had been far too turbulent, a bloody blur of survival and betrayal. The only tangible value she ever possessed was the sword she had picked up from the dirt—the weapon she swore never to let go of again.

Therefore, her own personal trust was utterly insignificant when it came to convincing this cynical group of Nachzehrers. Compared to the absolute faith Her Highness placed in him, Wis’adel’s feelings were completely unpresentable. Unworthy of being spoken aloud.

‘So…”My sword obeys him. That is enough.’

[Rhodes’s Note: “Wind, Flower, Snow, and Moon” () is a traditional Chinese idiom referring to the four classic romantic themes in poetry and art. Maria uses it here to dramatically categorize the influential figures in her life, before realizing the Doctor completely ruins the aesthetic.]

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent! 🙇‍♂️):

Massive thanks for reading and supporting the operation!]