Chapter 246: Ceres’ Treatment [2]

It felt like an eternity.

In truth, only fifteen minutes had passed.

Fifteen minutes since Ceres’s green spirit magic had begun repairing the damaged mana pathways in Ulrich’s severed arm.

Fifteen minutes since the amber vines of the Thornbreath Curse had emerged beneath that healing light and begun drawing his arm back toward his body.

This was not a physician stitching flesh with thread.

It was not a clean surgical procedure.

Ceres was using the curse itself to bind the arm back into place.

The Thornbreath’s amber tendrils moved through muscle, bone, nerves, and mana pathways with a frightening precision. At the same time, the green spirit magic repaired the damaged channels, rebuilding the routes through which Ulrich’s mana would need to flow.

It was an extraordinary process.

And it was dangerously difficult.

Ceres had never attempted anything like it before.

Her hands shook more with every passing minute. The amber veins beneath the skin of her face brightened, then dimmed, then brightened again. Several times, the Thornbreath began to slip beyond her control.

Each time, Ulrich stopped it.

He was suffering.

His breathing was hard and shallow. Sweat soaked his hair and gathered along his jaw. The pain had turned his face pale beneath the feverish flush, and the muscles in his body were tense enough to tremble.

But he still kept one hand against Ceres’s cheek.

The contact helped steady her.

More than that, Ulrich guided his mana through the point where his palm touched her skin. Crimson currents moved from his Hollow Core into Ceres, not to overpower her, but to contain the curse when it began to lash out.

He was shielding himself.

He was fighting the Thornbreath from spreading through his own body.

And he was helping Ceres remain in control.

It was not unfamiliar at all.

For the past month, Ulrich had treated Ceres’s curse several times. Usually, she would lie on a treatment table while he stood beside her, carefully managing the Thornbreath’s reactions and pushing it back before it consumed more of her body.

This time, the situation had reversed.

Ceres was using the curse to restore what Ulrich had lost.

And Ulrich, despite the unbearable pain, was guiding her through it.

They were helping one another.

The longer it continued, the more obvious it became that Ulrich understood the Thornbreath Curse better than anyone else in the room.

Perhaps better than Ceres herself.

The amber vines shuddered.

Ceres’s body jerked.

Ulrich’s fingers pressed more against her cheek.

"Do not force it," he said through clenched teeth.

Ceres’s eyes remained closed.

"I...I am trying," she whispered.

"Slowly."

The curse recoiled.

The amber veins along Ceres’s jaw dimmed slightly.

Then the process continued.

More minutes passed.

Twenty.

Then nearly thirty.

Ulrich’s strength began to fail.

His right hand slipped from Ceres’s cheek.

The moment he broke contact, he pulled it back toward his own chest.

His attention turned inward.

He needed to focus fully on the Hollow Core.

The Thornbreath was still pressing against his mana pathways. The curse had already rooted itself around the damaged arm long enough to reconnect it. If he let it spread even a little farther, if it reached his heart...

Ulrich would die.

He leaned his head back against the headboard.

His breathing remained hard, but he forced it into an even rhythm.

His crimson mana moved through the Hollow Core.

The three completed springs spun within the helix. The beginning of the fourth spring flickered at the edge of his awareness. He gathered every fragment of control he possessed and guided the Hollow Core’s power around the invading dark amber force.

He could not drive the Thornbreath out completely.

Not without disrupting Ceres’s work.

But he could keep it from moving deeper.

He could contain it.

The people gathered in the room could only watch.

None of them truly understood what was happening.

The physicians had never seen magic like this. They did not know how Ceres’s green light could rebuild mana pathways, or how the amber vines could bind a severed limb back to the body. They did not understand why Ulrich’s mana surged in crimson waves beneath his skin, or why Ceres’s curse reacted to his touch as though it recognized him.

Hermione and Esther stood together near the foot of the bed.

They held each other’s hands.

Esther’s face had gone pale with anxiety. Hermione tried to remain calm, but her ruby eyes never left Ulrich. Every time his breathing tightened or his brows drew together in pain, her fingers closed more tightly around Esther’s.

Fabian stood nearby.

His face was tense with worry.

Mark stood beside him, equally pale as he watched Ceres. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but he did not step forward. He knew that interrupting Ceres now could make everything worse.

The only person who did not remain at a distance was Airam.

She knelt beside Ulrich on the bed.

One hand rested gently against his cheek.

Ulrich must have felt it.

But he did not tell her to stop.

He did not have the strength to argue, and Airam was not interfering with his concentration. Her touch was rather gentle. It did not demand anything from him.

It simply reminded him that he was not alone inside the Hollow Core.

That there was still a room around him.

Still something outside the pain.

Airam watched him breathe.

His face had hardened with strain.

His eyes remained closed.

She placed her other hand lightly against his shoulder, keeping herself close enough to steady him if his body gave out.

Then, slowly, she guided his head toward her chest and held him there.

"A—Airam?" Hermione whispered.

She stared in surprise.

Esther blinked.

Even Fabian and Mark looked uncertain.

Airam ignored them.

Ulrich’s head rested against her, supported carefully so that none of his injuries were disturbed. Airam’s pale fingers moved through his damp crimson hair, brushing it away from his forehead.

Ulrich’s brows furrowed.

For a moment, it seemed he might object.

But he did not open his eyes.

He remained focused on the battle inside his body.

Airam continued to sit beside him.

Her hand moved slowly through his hair.

Minutes passed.

The green light beneath Ceres’s hands began to weaken.

The amber vines lost their brightness.

One by one, they faded.

The bridge between Ulrich’s stump and the severed arm stopped glowing.

Then the final strands vanished.

Silence filled the room.

Ulrich opened his eyes.

The pain had not disappeared completely.

But it had changed.

The sharp, unbearable agony had become a deep, throbbing ache. He could feel the arm again, not clearly, not normally, but enough to know that something had connected.

His head was, however, resting against something.

He frowned slightly and looked up.

Airam’s dark eyes met his.

For one second, Ulrich simply stared at her.

Then he pulled his head back.

He wondered what the hell she was doing before his attention shifted.

Ceres swayed in front of him.

Her green hair fell across her pale face. The amber veins had faded, but she looked exhausted. Her breathing was thin, and her hands had begun to shake violently.

"M-My lord," Ceres whispered.

Her body tilted forward.

Ulrich caught her before she could fall.

He supported her carefully with his right arm.

"You did well," he said.

Ceres looked at him weakly.

Then her eyes fluttered.

Ulrich turned toward Fabian.

"Have her treated immediately."

"My lord," Fabian answered.

"I will carry her!"

Mark stepped forward.

He took Ceres gently into his arms, holding her close carefully.

Fabian hurried ahead to summon the physicians and prepare a room.

Mark followed, carrying Ceres from Ulrich’s chamber.

The door closed behind them.

Ulrich looked down at his left arm.

For the first time since the battle, he could feel something there.

Ulrich looked down at his restored arm.

Then he frowned.

Something else had changed.

Around the place where the arm had been reattached, amber markings had appeared beneath the skin. They curled over his upper arm in thin, branching lines, similar to the curse marks that spread across Ceres’s face whenever the Thornbreath reacted.

They did not look like ordinary scars.

They looked like curse marks.

Like the Thornbreath had left a trace of itself behind.

Ulrich felt a faint unease seeing that.

The curse had entered his body.

Even if the Hollow Core had prevented it from spreading toward his heart, some of it had clearly remained in the arm. The amber patterns were too visible to be ignored.

But he could deal with that later.

For now, he lifted his right hand and looked toward his left fingers.

The fingers moved.

Only slightly.

A small twitch at first.

Then a slow curl.

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed.

The arm had truly been reattached.

It was weak. The connection was not yet complete. He could feel the stiffness in the fingers, the delay between thought and movement, and the deep ache where flesh and mana pathways had been forced together.

It would take time.

Several weeks, perhaps longer, before the arm felt fully his again.

But it worked.

And that was enough.

"Are you all right, Lord Ulrich?"

Esther’s worried voice reached him.

She moved closer to the bed and took the place Ceres had occupied only moments earlier.

"I am," Ulrich replied.

Esther looked at his arm.

Slowly, cautiously, she reached toward it.

Her fingers hovered near the amber curse marks without touching them.

Her brows furrowed.

"Are they strange?" She asked.

Ulrich looked at the marks.

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Esther did not seem convinced, but Ulrich pulled the arm back before she could ask anything else. He leaned against the headboard again, letting his restored hand rest carefully on the blanket.

"My lord," one of the physicians said.

He had finally recovered enough from the shock to speak normally.

"If you would allow us, we should examine the arm and assess the mana pathways."

Ulrich gave a brief nod.

The two physicians immediately stepped forward.

Their curiosity was obvious.

They had spent their lives studying medicine, mana sickness, injuries, and the limits of healing magic. Yet they had just watched a girl with strange green-and-amber power reconnect a severed arm and repair pathways that should have been ruined.

They wanted to understand what had happened.

More importantly, they wanted to make certain that the miracle had not hidden a greater danger.

The physicians began their examination.

They checked the pulse in the restored arm. They carefully pressed along the connection, watching Ulrich’s expression for signs of pain. They used small instruments to test the movement in his fingers, then placed mana-sensitive crystals near the amber markings to see whether the curse remained active.

The three sisters watched.

Esther sat close beside Ulrich, visibly worried.

Hermione stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed.

Airam had returned to her place near Ulrich’s side, sitting silently on the mattress and watching the physicians with narrowed eyes.

After a few minutes, Hermione spoke.

"Who was she?"

Ulrich looked at her.

Hermione’s gaze was sharp.

"The green-haired girl."

Even though she knew her name, she didn’t even want to say it.

Ulrich understood who she meant.

He had intended to introduce Ceres eventually.

Perhaps not now.

But fate had chosen otherwise.

Ceres had arrived at the Estate early.

She had seen the sisters.

And now she had reattached Ulrich’s arm before all of them.

There was little point in hiding her existence.

"It changes nothing," Ulrich thought.

He looked at Hermione.

"She is a witch," he said.

Hermione stiffened.

"A witch?"

Ulrich nodded.

"She is like you."

"S—She is not like us!" Hermione sputtered out raising her voice.

Ulrich furrowed his brows.

Hermione looked away.

Her cheeks had turned faintly red.

"She does not feel like us," Hermione added in a quieter voice. "Her mana was strange."

Esther looked between them with wide eyes.

"Another witch?"

She seemed surprised.

Perhaps even a little excited.

Ulrich gave a small nod.

"Then get along with her."

"No."

Airam’s answer came immediately.

Ulrich turned his head.

Airam sat beside him.

"Are you going to adopt her too?" She asked.

"No."

Ulrich replied without hesitation.

He had enough trouble after adopting three witches.

He had no desire to add a fourth.

Ceres needed help. She needed protection, treatment, and somewhere safe to remain while he learned more about her curse and heritage. Ulrich could support her. He could serve as a sponsor. He could make certain no one took advantage of her.

But adoption was not happening again.

"I do not like it," Airam said.

Ulrich looked at her.

"You do not like what?"

Airam’s dark eyes fixed on him.

"That you are close to her."

The room went quiet.

The physicians exchanged a brief, nervous glance before returning their focus to Ulrich’s arm.

They had begun to regret remaining in the chamber.

The relationship between Count Rubenhart and the three witches he had adopted was already difficult to understand. The girls sat too close to him. They argued with him in ways most noblewomen would never dare. They worried over him openly. And Ulrich, who was known throughout Skargardia for his cold nature, allowed all of it.

Now another girl had appeared.

A witch.

One who clearly knew Ulrich well enough to rush to his bedside and try to heal him without hesitation.

Ulrich looked at Airam.

Then he looked toward the physicians.

Then back at Airam.

He did not understand what she meant.

Or rather, he suspected he understood that she was displeased, but he did not understand why.

So he did what he usually did when Airam said something that made no sense to him.

He ignored it.

"Continue the examination," Ulrich told the physicians.

The physicians immediately nodded.

"Yes, my lord."