Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 50: Hallooo~~… Who are you~?

Chapter 50: Hallooo~~... Who are you~?

"Hallooo~~... Who are you~?"

!!!!!!!!

The voice came far too close.

Nysalea spun, startled, instincts kicking in like a cornered cat.

Her boots scraped against the stone, her blade raised halfway before her body screamed in protest.

Pain burst from her side, ripping through her injured triceps. She staggered back a step, breathing hard, cold sweat beading along her brow.

The voice belonged to a man who now stood less than an arm’s reach from her.

A man who hadn’t been there a second ago.

She hadn’t heard his footsteps. She hadn’t felt his presence.

And yet here he was.

That realization chilled her even more than assassins ever had.

He could have killed her ten times over.

And she wouldn’t have even blinked.

Nysalea’s eyes flickered over him, trying to make sense of the threat.

But instead of bloodlust or menace, she saw something else... something absurdly gentle.

The man’s eyes were a soft amber, his smile absent-minded but warm, as if he’d wandered here by accident while trying to find his lost slipper.

Hair tousled by wind, golden armor still clinging to his limbs like molten light, he looked like a fallen angel who forgot what war was.

She was momentarily mesmerized.

Her mind, cracked from exhaustion and adrenaline, couldn’t understand how someone who exuded such warmth had just shattered a battlefield.

But instinct pushed through awe.

She took another step back, raising her blade again. Her arm trembled.

Selene stepped forward, her voice calm and steady. "He’s Riven, my beloved," she said softly. "He’s the one who saved you."

Riven gave her a sheepish wave. "Hi. I think I scared you. Sorry about that."

Nysalea didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze drifted past him, toward the wreckage that had once been her executioners.

One man lay unconscious, twitching lightly, blood pooling beneath him.

Two others were... gone.

No, not gone; burnt.

Charred husks, their shapes barely recognizable, still steaming from what had once been human forms.

The ground still bore the remnants of gold where he had altered it earlier.

Screech

A loud crane cry split the air.

They looked up to see the crane return from the clouds.

Solwing landed with a flap of wings, blowing away dust in the surroundings. His golden crown shimmered in the dying light.

His claws were gripping the head of a man, cleanly severed, and unmistakably deadly. The sniper.

Nysalea’s breath hitched again.

The battle had ended before she even realized it had begun.

And then came the soft thunder of hooves.

Her steed.

Blackrose... whom she had ordered to retreat.

The demon horse galloped into view, its sleek form cutting across the dusty terrain. It came straight to Nysalea, eyes wild, breathing ragged.

She smiled faintly.

But that was the last strength she had.

Her legs gave out.

She fell to one knee, her sword clattering beside her.

Her vision blurred, black creeping in at the edges.

Her voice, barely more than a whisper, slipped through cracked lips.

"If we are connected... I hope you won’t harm me... I really... have no way to resist you..."

She began to collapse forward.

Selene flashed to her side, catching her just before she fell to the ground.

Her arms were gentle yet firm, supporting Nysalea with the same care you’d show a long-lost sister.

"You’ll be fine," she said softly, brushing sweat-soaked hair from Nysalea’s brow. "You’re safe now. I promise. We won’t hurt you."

Nysalea gave the tiniest of nods, if it even qualified as that. Then her eyes closed.

She fainted.

Riven, too, came near and looked at her for a moment.

"Solwing", he called.

The crane stepped near him and lowered itself. Riven put his hand inside the saddlebag and fished out the first aid kit.

Opening it, he took out a small porcelain bottle.

Selene, who was watching, suddenly let out a surprised ’huh?’.

"What? She seems important to you, love... so we can’t let her die now, can we?"

Selene looked at the white porcelain bottle in his hand with a conflicted expression.

Her beloved was really....

"That Minor Recovery pill costs a lot, right?" she asked, biting her lips in frustration.

This pill cost Riven a lot of silver.

"It’s alright. I don’t need this, and you have one more for an emergency. We can just buy one more if we need."

Minor Recovery pill is exclusively sold by the Shaolin monks – it is a mid-tier Mystic tier pill.

[A/N: Artifact or Pill rankings - Yellow → Mystic/ Profound → Earth → Heaven.]

Occasionally shared externally, they were given as generous gifts to other sects or traded for other sects’ elixirs.

This kept the price of Minor Recovery pill high in the martial world.

This was bought using the connections of one of the elders of a powerful Ashvale household.

He flicked the pill, and it entered Nysalea’s mouth.

’Activate crit,’ he muttered in his head.

[Ding! You gifted Nysalea Nightsilver a bottle of Minor Recovery pill!]

[You triggered a thousand-fold critical hit return!]

[You obtained 1000 bottles of Minor Recovery pill!]

’Whistle~~ Oohh baby! Jackpot!’

Riven inwardly exclaimed in joy.

Quickly focusing his attention on the system inventory, he was about to peruse through his next addition when he was disturbed.

Blackrose let out a loud, agitated whinny, stomping her hooves and flaring her nostrils.

She paced in a circle, eyes locked on her unconscious rider, every muscle tense.

Riven stopped looking at the system interface and turned to pay attention to the steed.

At first, he didn’t say a word. He simply approached the demon horse slowly, without drawing his weapons, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.

As he entered what could be called the horse’s ’personal space’, the demon horse’s agitations softened.

"Shhh," he murmured, his voice like warm spring rain. "You’re scared, little one. I know."

He placed his hand gently on Blackrose’s neck, stroking it slowly, and the response was nearly instant.

Her breathing slowed down, and her stance became softer.

Nature itself responded to him. Even beasts knew.

His energy was a Life Giver.

His hands flickered with the softest of Yang energy, a trait so opposite to the one he used to burn the assassins to a crisp.

This felt like the gentle sunlight of dawn break. The kind that animals bathe in happily in the morning.

"You did well," he whispered. "She’ll be alright. We’ll take her somewhere safe."

With the sky now deepening into evening, and the wind carrying only the scents of scorched blood and cool mountain stone, Selene looked toward the road.

They still had a place prepared for the night.

A quiet inn nestled in the city at the edge of the lower cliffs.

Together, Selene lifted Nysalea onto Solwing and got on, with Riven guiding the steed.

And without another word, the strange four began their walk/ fly to shelter—

The prince of fire, the queen of frost, and the lost girl between them.