A figure stood above her. She tried to speak, but she couldn't. Then the figure leaned in, and she felt a wave of panic. Searle's eyes glowed red in the darkness. He raised his hands and grabbed her throat very slowly. She tried to reach out and push him away, but her body wouldn't listen. She couldn't even scream. His grim laughter filled her ears again.

All she could do was lie there and let him take her life once more?

------

Joan sat up, her eyes wide open, sweat drenching her body. Why is it so cold? Why is this happening?

"Joan? Are you-"

Serre's voice pierced the air, sending her into a panic again. She stretched out her right hand and quickly cast a spell, and three tiny ice spikes condensed in the air, flying in the direction of the sound. Just before a light appeared, she heard the sound of ice breaking.

Serge sat on the bed next to her, his right arm glowing darkly. He rubbed his chest, which was already covered with a thin layer of frost. She couldn't believe it. Is her magic so weak that even he can't hurt it now? Then she saw two other spikes, one hitting the wall and forming a layer of frost, and the last one hit the other bed and shattered on the blanket. Ice cubes are so fragile that they will shatter if they touch anything. How could she—

Her strength ran out, and she fell backwards and fell on the bed, trembling and whimpering. When she realized that she couldn't hurt a baby with that attack, shame overwhelmed her. She wondered why she was so pathetic, so useless, so weak? What's wrong with her? She is nothing more than a complete waste of time and heroic potential. Why does she think she can do this? She pulled the blanket tighter. Why is it so cold?

"Joan?" Serge's voice came again. There was a slight crackling sound, and then a new yellow glow replaced the white glow on his arm. Then she heard him crawl out of his crib and start walking towards her.

"Don't," she whispered, unable to stop her voice from trembling. "Don't—" The words went to his throat. She reminded herself that he wasn't a demon lord, at least not yet. He wouldn't hurt her. He won't kill her. He was one of the chosen ones. He was her friend, her ally. He used to be. Well, at least an ally. But no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this, all her instincts were screaming that he was going to kill her.

"You're soaking wet."

"I'm fine," she shook her head, finally looking up at him. When she saw him on top of her, she froze. He's going to kill her:

Serge was also motionless, confused and guilty. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked.

"Joan, please," Serge said softly, reassured.

"You're soaking wet. We need to take you off your clothes and dry you or you'll just get sicker. ”

"What?" She asked softly. "Why are you here?"

"She needs to help you change your clothes because you are, uh......"

Joan blinked a few times. He blushed

"I can get dressed......" her voice faded and she could barely lift the covers. Standing up and changing clothes is a daunting task,

"I need a therapist, please," she whispered softly.

"Okay. I'll be right back. Try not to move too much. ”

Joan nodded, listened as he walked away and opened the door. After a few more moments, she heard the door close and someone approaching. "I told you." A strange and familiar voice said.

She slowly looked up and saw Batu walking towards her with a small stack of towels. "You told me?" She asked, her teeth chattering.

"You deserve a bad flu," Bot said. Another girl reached out and pulled the blanket back, exposing her to the cold air and leaving her trying to curl up. "Shhhh Trust me, it's not as bad as it feels. Let's take your clothes off and clean you up, shall we? ”

When the other woman slowly lifted her out of bed and undressed her in a guided manner, the whitened body had to be washed, dried, and redressed, and the new bed felt unusually warm, almost like a fire underneath.

"That's a lot better, isn't it?" Poult asked with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"Much better." Joan said her tone was still cold, but it had slowly subsided. "Am I going to die?"

"What's wrong with me? What is this—what is this?" She asked, pulling the blanket tighter.

"Shock + flu," Botett said, and walked over to another bed, pulled the bedding down and threw it onto a pile of things.

"I can barely move," Joan whispered.

"You're not experienced in healing magic, are you?" Botu asked, looking back at her. "No, you know. You've been here many times over the years and you should be. Why do you think we always let you rest for a few days after you have recovered from a serious injury? ”

"No, because you're vulnerable. Healing magic doesn't just heal wounds. It will burn your body's energy to do this, speeding up the recovery process. You probably won't. Fractures and similar conditions can heal in hours or even minutes instead of months. ”

"How long will it take for it to disappear?" Joan asked.

"A day or two"

Joan sighed softly and nodded. "How long will it take for me to ride again?"

"A week, probably. Still, you'll need to talk to the lead therapist to get an accurate time frame. Joan? Poult looked back at her and said.

"Yes?" Joan asked.

"Please don't let yourself die so quickly. If you burn yourself down, you'll disgrace the Academy. Try to relax and recover, okay? ”

The girl paused, then got up and walked to the bed. Then she knelt down and looked Joan into the eye with a gentle smile. "Joan, it's okay. You're not much of a hassle, and no one will be mad at you if you don't take care of everything yourself. As much as you may be reluctant to admit it, you're still a little kid. Let some grown-ups take care of things. ”

In her previous life, she was supposed to be Zack, and when she first became a hero, she was still a child. In this life, she doesn't even have parents, and the adults around her only have the least ability to help her. "You know what, you're not much older than me."

"I'm a lot older than you, thank you. I'm also a healer and we always grow faster. ”

"Hmph. I bet I had been a boy before. ”

Joan laughed for a moment, but stopped abruptly when she saw the serious and grim expression on the other girl's face. "You...... You're kidding? ”

"It takes a very talented therapist to cure stupidity, but with perseverance, it can be done," Bot said, before getting up and walking over to the pile of laundry to be washed. "Serge is one of the assistants in the infirmary, so if anything serious, let him come to me."

Joan nodded, closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of the other girl leaving. After a while, she heard the door open.

"You know, you could have come in and help," Bot said briefly.

"What? I'm a boy! When you—" Serge said in the doorway.

"I mean, after she's better," Bot said.

"You never said she was," Serge said in a soft, docile tone.

"Of course," Searle said, and then she heard the door close and his footsteps getting closer. "I'm sorry."

Joan glanced at the small glowing orbs that lit up the room. In any case, she prefers it to candles. "I prefer light charms to candles. Also, I think it's a really wonderful day for you. Find out that you are one of the chosen ones.

He sat on the bed next to her. Her cheeks turned a little red when she realized why the bed was warm when she moved in, the one he had slept in. She thinks it's at least better than the cold. But finding solace in the warmth of the murderer is a disturbing thought.

She shook her head and stared at the ceiling, trying to drive the thoughts away. He was a hero and one of her friends. It's important, it's necessary.

"To be honest, I never thought it would be like this," Serge said finally, interrupting her thoughts.

"I can understand that. Being one of the chosen ones is a very important thing.

"I always thought you hated me," Serge said, softly and timidly.

"What? No, I've never hated you! She said that even she could hear the lie in her tone and cringed a little.

"Every time we talk, you always seem desperate to leave. I never understood how I offended you to make you feel this way. ”

She recalled several of their interactions at the Academy. She has been selected as a sparring partner several times, which has allowed her to achieve clear victories. But now that she thinks about it, she's always been a little him. From the moment she met him, she had been afraid of him. She always wondered what he would do if she was alone with him, or would do something to hurt her. Throughout the academy, he has always been the one she fears the most. It wasn't until her memory finally regained that she understood why.

But it's not her fault. If he wasn't so weak, hadn't fallen into the hands of the Demon King again and again, she wouldn't have had any reason to fear him at all. The Demon Lord is most likely there right now, plotting his next move. Prepare to kill them all. She wondered if Searle would be another weak link. Could he be the reason for their failure? This time she found him for the second time, and maybe she could make him strong.

"Is Lord Hadwin telling the truth?" Serge asked.

"No, are you a prophet?" Serge asked.

"Prophet?"

"Your Adult said you have a vision for the future, that's why you know me."

He told you? ”

Serge nodded shyly, his cheeks flushed slightly. He said it was a secret. But it makes a lot of sense to me. ”

"You've always been one of the most amazing people I've ever known. They say you have the potential to become one of the greatest mages in the world"

Joan sighed softly again. She was too tired to talk to him about this.

"When this is over, you'll know how weak I really am." She said with a final sigh. "Stop. Please. ”

"Oh. By the way, you're tired, aren't you? I'm sorry. Please let me know if you have any needs. He whispered.

"Turn the lights out......" her voice faded.

"Of course." He whispered. As he lay down, she heard his cot move.

She sighed softly again. Knowing how close he was to her, she couldn't possibly fall asleep.

It was her last thought before she lost consciousness, and she fell into a coma again, exhausted despite her anticipation.