Chapter 30 : 

Curtis  collapsed into the wagon, utterly spent. But his exhaustion mattered little now—for House Narok had triumphed.

The tide of battle had turned the moment Redna’s fire, the very flame that had fueled Gaude’s long string of victories, was extinguished before all. And when the warriors beheld her form swallowed beneath Curtis ’s crashing wave, hope surged anew in their hearts.

A Spiritcaller, no matter how fierce, could not survive a deluge conjured by mastery of water and sheer willpower. The tide ebbed, and where once flames had danced stood only the remnants of her fall—Redna’s body, broken and lifeless, her spirit extinguished.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

Panic overtook Gaude’s remaining forces. Their will to fight shattered, they turned to flee.

Yet order still clung to their ranks—some held back Narok’s advance, others hoisted the wounded upon their backs. They abandoned the dead where they fell, but not Redna. Her corpse, at least, they would not leave behind.

“It is finished,” Terty murmured, his voice low.

It was a victory bought dearly, but cleanly. Unless Gaude sought madness, Curtis  was no longer in danger. Terty allowed his mind to ease—though his body remained coiled, alert.

“Here. These,” Curtis  mumbled, raising a tired hand.

“Hm?”

“Clear them out. Just a few. The jars.”

“Ah—yes, of course!”

At Curtis ’s request, the Bronze-ranked escorts quickly removed several empty water jars from the wagon bed.

With room made, Curtis  simply let himself collapse onto the wooden slats, limbs limp, his breath long and low.

“Mmmh…”

“You sure you’re all right?” Terty asked, brow furrowed. “You pushed yourself hard.”

“I did,” Curtis  admitted, his voice hoarse. “This… isn’t something I usually do.”

“Then why?”

“Because the chance came,” Curtis  said with a faint smile. “And when chances come, you take them. Who knows when another might arrive?”

Terty nodded slowly, misinterpreting the words. He thought Curtis  had chosen the moment to kill Redna, wisely removing a key threat. Curtis , however, had been speaking of something else entirely—of magic, of destiny, of the Spirit Creation that now thrummed quietly in his soul.

In the end, meaning didn’t matter—the result was the same. Curtis  had claimed his prize, and Narok had secured a vital victory.

While the two exchanged idle words, the remnants of Gaude’s army vanished from the battlefield like a receding storm.

“We’ve won!”

“Victory!”

“Glory to the Mage!”

The cheers echoed across the fields, raw and jubilant. It was impossible not to know who had turned the tide. Even those without wit could sense it: the war had shifted.

From the wagon, Curtis  offered a small wave. It was awkward—he wasn’t used to this sort of attention—but not unwelcome.

Once the field was cleared and the supply depot secured, they returned to the Narok estate—marching not as soldiers, but as victors.

Still sprawled atop the wagon, Curtis  drew no complaints. None dared interrupt the man who had doused a flame that once seemed immortal.

At the estate gates, Bruno awaited them, jubilant.

“Ha! You’ve returned!” he cried, eyes gleaming. “I heard the tale—Redna, fallen in the first battle?! Those Gaude bastards will be reeling for days!”

“We were fortunate,” Curtis  replied modestly.

“Fortune? Nonsense! They say her fire spirit was utterly shattered! If only I’d seen it with my own eyes!”

“Haha…”

“Come, come! I’ve prepared a light feast—nothing grand, not yet! The real banquet shall be tonight!”

“Lord Bruno, if I may,” Terty interjected, catching the unspoken plea in Curtis ’s weary gaze. “Would you permit us to join only for the evening? This one rode the wagon home half-conscious. He’s in no condition for fanfare.”

“Ah! I didn’t know—my apologies! Heavens, what a host I’ve been. Yes, yes, of course! Go, both of you. Rest well!”

Bowing his gratitude, Curtis  followed Terty to the guest wing where they had stayed the night prior.

“I’m going to sleep straight through until supper.”

“And lunch?”

“Help yourself. I can barely think.”

“All right then. See you tonight.”

Once alone, Curtis  bathed, changed, and collapsed onto the soft bed.

It embraced him like a long-lost friend.

Until now, he’d always kept some magic in reserve—always, no matter the battle, no matter the risk. But today… he had emptied every last drop.

This wasn’t physical exhaustion. It was something more.

It reminded him of cramming for an impossible exam—hours spent shattering your mind on unanswerable questions, only to collapse the moment time ran out.

“No point in complaining. I chose this.”

If Spirit Creation’s progress had been slow, he would’ve paced himself. He might have even held back, sparing Redna to fight another day.

But when the bar surged upward and he saw how close he was… restraint had vanished.

He had chased that final moment with everything he had.

“So I’m drained. So what? That’s what rest is for.”

He checked his interface again.

[Hydrokinesis Lv.41]
[Progress to Next Level: 3%]

It had risen too—an added bonus.

And, just like before when he’d slain an assassin, it was clear now that humans, not just beasts, gave experience.

Did I gain more than when we killed the troll…?

That had been a joint effort with Terty. But Redna—she had been his, and his alone.

Perhaps humans gave more experience than monsters.

Or perhaps…

“Was the experience divided?”

It made sense.

In games, boss raid rewards were often split by contribution. If that logic applied here, then Curtis  was simply being rewarded for doing all the work.

Even if his absurd growth rate was unusual, it was earned. Training, fighting—always pushing forward. Not once had he been carried by others.

Still, as his thoughts trailed, Curtis  allowed himself a weary chuckle.

“Rulers… I just killed someone. And here I am analyzing experience rates.”

There was no guilt—Redna had tried to kill him first. It was a battlefield, and they were enemies. But still…

He had killed so many monsters recently that it was beginning to dull his senses. A troubling realization.

“Well. I can wrestle with that later.”

He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

Right now, philosophy could wait.

His body needed healing.