Chapter 54: A Frail Reunion

The Mage Girl Organization’s Tower.

Only a few days prior, Ling Xing had orchestrated a grand fireworks display right here, boldly announcing the return of the Dark Organization and storming the very same tower.

Now, however, Ling Xing strode in without a single obstacle in her path.

Every guard she passed meticulously set aside their duties, saluting her with a mixture of reverence and trepidation.

Anyone unfamiliar with Ling Xing’s true identity would likely assume she was merely a high-ranking Mage Girl on an inspection tour…

‘It rankled her slightly. To be mistaken for one of the Mage Girls she was sworn to overthrow, especially as an elite combatant, stirred a flicker of displeasure within Ling Xing.’

Yet, despite her annoyance, Ling Xing was not so fastidious as to refuse a convenient advantage.

‘Being able to simply walk in was certainly preferable to having to strategize a stealthy infiltration every single time.’

With one hand on her hip, Ling Xing confidently sauntered deeper into the tower, making her way to the floor housing the underground laboratory.

A cold, stark light illuminated the corridor. The devastation left by her skirmish with Kuonji just days ago still lingered, with vast swathes of scratches and gouges marring the walls.

It was as if the battle had just concluded, with no attempt made to clean up or conceal the damage.

Amidst this wreckage, a lone girl sat beneath the frigid light.

Her skin was so pale it seemed sickly.

She wore a thin, loose-fitting short dress, her frame appearing gaunt from its excessive slenderness. Her exposed limbs were wrapped in bandages, beneath which the distinct bruising of her skin was faintly visible.

Half of her face was obscured by her bangs, and through the wispy, ash-grey strands of her hair, one could discern an eye patch covering one of her eyes.

Beneath her was a wheelchair, fitted with an IV pole, an infusion tube connecting the pale, slender wrist of the girl to a bag of medicinal fluid.

This girl, so profoundly frail, stood solitary amidst the ruins, awaiting Ling Xing’s arrival.

There were no colleagues, no assistants; only she remained, bathed in the cold light, waiting.

“Yo, Nuonuo—”

Ling Xing had envisioned countless scenarios for their reunion, contemplating how she would unleash her grievances, condemn Nuonuo’s betrayal, and assail her actions.

Yet, Ling Xing had certainly not anticipated the current scene.

The indifferent girl she remembered, who only offered a rare, fleeting smile during their celebrations, now appeared…

She looked like a corpse dragged from a morgue, utterly devoid of any vital signs.

“—What is this supposed to be? Do you think looking like this will make me pity you?”

Nuonuo had been waiting here for some time.

The crow perched on Ling Xing’s shoulder had remained silent for a while now.

“No…”

The girl parted her bloodless lips, barely managing to exhale a faint response that seemed to drift away on her breath.

That single utterance appeared to have nearly depleted all her strength, leaving her unable to speak further.

[This is merely my just deserts. If you wish to beat me, punish me, or unleash your fury upon me, I will accept it all.]

Even at such close, face-to-face proximity, the girl could only communicate through mental transmission.

Perhaps it was precisely this mental link that masked the shattered state of her body, allowing her voice to retain a faint echo of its former self.

‘It was difficult to imagine Nuonuo, in this state, still managing to orchestrate lengthy taunts against the allied forces through the crow.’

‘Or perhaps, having been reduced to this, such methods were her only remaining form of entertainment.’

“Easy for you to say! You—!”

“Yet you abandoned the Dark Organization, deserted your comrades-in-arms, fled here alone, and sought refuge with the Mage Girl Organization just to survive—!”

Ling Xing seized her by the collar, her hand clenching into a fist.

With a mere tug, the emaciated girl, whose weight felt almost nonexistent, was lifted entirely from her wheelchair by Ling Xing’s single hand.

The IV needle in the girl’s wrist was violently dislodged by Ling Xing’s rough movement, sending cold medicinal fluid splattering everywhere and leaving a chilly sensation on Ling Xing’s skin.

Disgust, resentment, fury, indignation—the emotions accumulated from countless imagined confrontations coalesced into a simple, deliberate punch.

The punch halted inches from Nuonuo’s nose.

“……”

Had the girl offered even the slightest resistance, attempted to flee, defend herself, or even beg for mercy, that fist would have landed squarely on her face.

But there was nothing.

The girl… no, Nuonuo, merely gazed at her with her single remaining eye, her expression utterly devoid of change from beginning to end.

[Is it over?]

“…Yes, it’s over.”

The strength born of her resentment had drained away.

After a long silence, Ling Xing finally released her grip, allowing the sickly girl to slump back into her wheelchair.

Watching the girl laboriously grope along the IV stand as if searching for something unseen, slowly reaching for the drip bottle, and taking an eternity to reattach the errant needle, Ling Xing found that despite her myriad grievances, she ultimately could not resort to violence.

‘Even at her most furious, her worst thought had only been to give Nuonuo a beating and drag her home; she had never once imagined… reducing Nuonuo to such a state.’

[Then…]

Nuonuo’s small, somewhat cold hand laboriously touched the back of Ling Xing’s.

“…You’ve become… so formidable… Xing.”

As Ling Xing looked back, puzzled, Nuonuo forced out these few fragmented words, her voice hoarse.

It was no longer the cool, steady tone Ling Xing remembered from their mental links or conversations, but rather like a leaky bellows, words barely squeezed from her already fleeting breaths.

That was the reason Ling Xing had given for coming here, or perhaps, the excuse she herself didn’t even care about.

A compliment, offered face-to-face… merely these few words were already such a struggle for Nuonuo.

“…You, on the other hand, haven’t made any progress at all, Nuonuo.”

‘No progress at all was an understatement.’

‘In her current state, if she lay by the roadside, no one would likely even believe she was still alive.’

‘She resembled a doll brutally abused and then carelessly discarded.’

[Ah, this is merely the fate of a stray dog. If my experimental results are transferred again this time, and the credit given to some unknown researcher, then I, this useless thing, will be thrown into the slaughterhouse to serve my final purpose.]

“…Aren’t you coming home?”

Watching the girl brace herself against the wall, painstakingly maneuvering her wheelchair forward inch by agonizing inch, Ling Xing finally couldn’t help but voice the question.

‘She had originally intended to say it only after she had vented all her frustrations and settled everything, but now…’

‘…there seemed to be no need to delay it any further.’

[I cannot return empty-handed, Xing. Having been reduced to this state, having become a burden, even if I wanted to go back, I must bring enough achievements to the Organization to atone for my transgressions, to prove to Dal that I am not a liability.]

The girl propelled the wheelchair forward, wheel by painstaking wheel.

This girl, reduced to such a pitiful state, still moved with unwavering determination, inch by painful inch.

Ling Xing did not know what exactly Nuonuo had endured here, but she could see one thing clearly.

Nuonuo was serious: even knowing that the Dark Organization still existed due to Ling Xing’s declaration, she refused to flee in such a sorry state, to become a burden and a liability, begging for Ling Xing’s and Dal’s charity to survive.

It was her unwavering resolve that propelled her withered body forward.