My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 45: The Wound That Won’t Heal

Chapter 45: The Wound That Won’t Heal

Esteban and the soldiers carried Ramiro into the heart of the camp, his unconscious form pale beneath the flickering torchlight.

Elena and Luzia followed closely behind, their footsteps hurried, their breaths uneven. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. Soldiers parted as they passed, their eyes shadowed with concern.

Inside a tent reinforced with thick canvas, the soldiers laid Ramiro carefully on the camp bed. His robes were soaked through, dark with blood. Esteban knelt beside him at once, pressing his hands over the wound.

A soft, golden glow bloomed between his fingers, magic surging through his veins. Light seeped into torn flesh, attempting to mend what had been ravaged. Yet—

The wound refused to close.

Esteban’s breath hitched. His magic flowed stronger, but the gash remained stubbornly open, blood pooling beneath Ramiro’s limp form.

"This is bad," he muttered, his brow creased with frustration. "His wound isn’t closing up..."

Frowning, Luzia knelt beside the bed and pressed a cloth to Ramiro’s wound, trying to slow the bleeding. "What do you mean it’s not closing up?" Her voice was sharp, barely masking her fear.

Esteban gritted his teeth. His hands hovered over Ramiro’s side, green light flickering unsteadily. "I’m using all I have left, but something’s wrong. It’s like the wound is rejecting my magic."

Luzia took a hesitant step forward. Her heart pounded. "Is it... poisoned?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Esteban’s jaw clenched. "No, this isn’t normal poison. This is something else." His fingers brushed over the wound again, and a cold, unnatural sensation crawled up his arm. He yanked his hand back, eyes widening. "Damn it. This is dark arts."

Elena’s grip on Luzia’s arm tightened. "Dark arts?"

Before Esteban could answer, Ramiro let out a strangled groan. His body jerked slightly, his breath coming in shallow, labored gasps. The edges of his wound pulsed, dark veins creeping outward like something was spreading beneath his skin.

Dad... Luzia thought, her stomach twisting. "We have to do something! We can’t just—"

"I know!" Esteban snapped, his exhaustion fraying his patience. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. "The only way to dispel such strong dark arts is with the use of old magic."

Old magic... The words echoed in Luzia’s mind, sending a shiver down her spine. But that’s impossible. The novel said Old magic belonged to the first beings—beings that are extinct. So how do I save him?

Elena’s face darkened. "Old magic... like that of dragons? Elves?"

Esteban hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Luzia. She looked exhausted because she had just unleashed a terrifying power.

His gaze hardened. "Yes. Or even an artifact created by them. And I don’t have the slightest idea where any of them are."

Luzia struggled to gather her thoughts. Let’s calm down. Breathe, Luzia. She forced herself to inhale deeply, trying to steady the storm of panic in her mind. The novel talked about dragons the most... It described them as creatures with the reddest eye color.

"The reddest eyes I have ever seen..." she mumbled to herself.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, a memory struck her—the young boy with silver hair and slit-like crimson eyes.

Her eyes widened. Could it be...?

Luzia sucked in a sharp breath. How do I find him?

She clenched her fists, her mind racing. She had met him once—only briefly. He had been quiet, almost distant, but there was something about his presence that had unsettled her. Back then, she hadn’t thought much of it. But now... now it all made sense.

If he really is connected to dragons, then he’s my only chance.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Where would he be?

Right... he kept calling me ’Master’ the other day. Does that mean we are connected somehow? Maybe I can summon him? she thought, her mind grasping for answers. Or... call out to him?

Luzia swallowed against the knot of fear tightening in her throat. If there was even the slightest chance that he could hear her, she had to try.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused. If you can hear me... I need you. Now.

Luzia waited, her breath held in anticipation. Seconds passed. Nothing happened.

Her shoulders tensed. That didn’t work.

She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temple. Okay... let’s try something else.

Her mind flickered back to that strange moment in her dreams—the feeling of his presence, the weight of something powerful just beyond her grasp. If I could sense his aura in my sleep... then I should be able to do it now.

Luzia clenched her fists, grounding herself. I just need to know if he’s close by or not. Please... be close.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the noise around her. The flickering torchlight, the rustling of fabric, the quiet murmurs of concern—all of it faded into the background as she reached inward, searching.

Elena and Esteban exchanged wary glances.

Elena shifted, suddenly remembering something. "Oh right, we came here with Stephan and Aurelio."

Esteban’s gaze snapped to her. "Where are they?"

Elena frowned slightly. "They should still be in the village, I suppose."

Esteban let out a sharp breath and turned to two nearby soldiers, jerking his head toward the door. "Go find them. Now."

The soldiers nodded and hurried off, their footsteps fading into the distance as Luzia remained still, lost in her concentration.

As she focused, a strange sensation prickled at the nape of her neck—warm at first, then searing. She gasped as the scale-like mark hidden beneath her hair flared to life, glowing faintly. The warmth spread through her veins, pulsing in sync with her heartbeat.

’What is this feeling on my neck?’ she thought.

The world around her dulled. The torchlight dimmed, the murmurs faded, and the only thing that remained was the unmistakable pull of something distant but connected to her. A presence like embers smoldering beneath ash.

A flicker.

Her breath hitched as her eyes snapped open. He’s close.

Luzia scanned the room. The entrance was blocked—two guards shifting in the flickering torchlight. No way past them.

Her pulse quickened. There had to be another way.

Then she saw it—a small opening near the corner, partially hidden by a stack of supplies. Just big enough.

Her stomach tightened. If she got caught now, she’d waste precious time explaining herself—or worse, be forced to stay. She had to be careful.

She crouched low, glancing over her shoulder. Esteban and Elena were still focused on Ramiro, too absorbed to notice her movements. The guards outside exchanged a few quiet words, their attention momentarily shifting toward something beyond the tent. Now or never.

Swallowing hard, she lowered herself onto her hands and knees, inching toward the gap. The rough fabric scraped against her arms as she pushed through. A wooden crate blocked part of the exit—she gritted her teeth and wiggled past it, careful not to make a sound.

For a breathless second, she paused, listening.

Footsteps. Voices. The guards were still there.

Then—

The tent flap rustled. A shadow loomed.

Luzia pressed herself to the ground, willing herself invisible.

Move along... move along...

One guard sighed. "We should check the perimeter. This whole situation feels off."

The other muttered in agreement. Their footsteps faded.

Go. Now.

Luzia didn’t wait. She pushed forward, slipping into the shadows beyond the tent.

Every wasted second brought her father closer to death.

I just need to find him. If he really is one... then he can save Dad.