LTTH C8

Chapter 8

It began with a simple light.

A golden radiance began to spread out from Hansol as its center, gradually expanding its reach. When it passed beyond Kassie, who was struggling desperately on the front line, and took hold before him, the remaining soldiers, Kassie, and even the Duke could not help but turn around to look.

“…Saint.”

In the battlefield steeped in silence, someone’s soft whisper drifted upon the wind. Amidst the bloodstains and swirling dust, the hem of a pure white robe fluttered nobly. Enclosed in the golden glow, Hansol’s figure lacked nothing to be called a saint.

Sanctuary has been declared.

A sanctuary will be designated centered around the caster.

Current range: 50 meters, Duration: 200 minutes.

First sanctuary declaration detected. Stat “Divine Power” has been created.

Feeling as though something had drained from his body, Hansol blinked rapidly. His mind was clouded by the lines of text that cluttered his vision. The golden light that spread from him blanketed the ground with a gentle glow and surged upward, as though defying the crimson aura that stained the skies.

“…Are you truly nothing more than a healer?”

“……”

The Duke’s usually impassive face revealed uncharacteristic bewilderment as his gaze fixed on Hansol. What could he possibly say? That back in Korea he was a useless healer, forever stuck at level one? Or that he was barely a healer competent enough to reach level fifteen?

“…I am an ordinary healer,” he finally muttered after much hesitation.

The belated answer dissolved faintly into the air. The Duke stared intently at him for a moment before lifting his gaze. The ever-expanding golden radiance gave the illusion that the once blood-red heavens were now clearing.

“We must thank God—for sending you to us.”

The Duke gave a faint smile before taking a step forward. It felt as though the firm shield that had been guarding them vanished, but Hansol did not follow. Instinct told him otherwise: within this sanctuary, no harm would ever befall him.

From fingertips to toes, his entire body shimmered as though painted with golden sparkles. Strangely, it did not hurt the eyes, but instead felt as if he were embraced by warmth. Hansol steadied his breathing and slowly opened the skill window.

Sanctuary Declaration. H

Consumes skill points to declare a sanctuary centered on the caster. The range and duration vary according to the amount of skill points consumed.

“…What the hell?”

Unfriendly. Nothing could be more unfriendly.

At the very least, shouldn’t it tell me what a sanctuary is or what effect it has? Isn’t that the least one could expect?

He almost laughed at himself. Expecting humanity from a system was ridiculous. Still, this was going too far.

“Damn it.”

He had forgotten for a moment. The system was never kind. And when it came to skill windows, it was even more merciless.

Of course, such unkindness wasn’t unique to Hansol. It was a chronic problem all hunters shared. The skill window offered the rough usage, mana cost, or resources consumed, but beyond that, there was no guidance. The rest—what effects it produced, what its limits were—was entirely up to the hunter to discover through use.

Hansol, staring at his now-crowded skill window, eventually lifted his gaze. One effect of the sanctuary was already evident.

The ominous crimson aura that had been pressing down was steadily dissipating within the golden light spreading upward from the ground. Simultaneously, the monsters that had been charging in like moths to a flame now circled aimlessly in midair, unable to advance. Though invisible to his eyes, this phenomenon repeated even outside the sanctuary’s fifty-meter boundary.

If he had to define it, it was as though an invisible barrier had been erected; the monsters were unable to step even a single foot inside, left wandering beyond.

“…At the very least, it seems certain it blocks monster incursions.”

Two hundred minutes. At least during that time, this place was a safe zone. For Hansol, who had longed for a shield or buff-type skill, it was salvation.

“The dead soldiers don’t seem to be coming back to life, though.”

“…Ah, Kassie, sir.”

With a weary expression, Kassie drifted to his side. His neat attire was half undone, the hair that had been carefully brushed aside now in wild disarray, but despite it all, his lips carried a radiant smile.

“Drop the ‘sir,’ Saint.”

“…If you don’t call me ‘Saint,’ that is.”

“Haha. Then what should I call you?”

“Ah… Cha—Hansol. Hansol is fine.”

Now that I think of it, I never introduced myself…

Unlike in Korea, here Hansol was the only healer. Because of that, he had never minded being called simply “healer.” It hadn’t even occurred to him that names might matter.

“Then, Hansol… ‘sir.’”

Kassie added the word gently, almost tenderly. A chill ran down Hansol’s spine.

“‘Sir’? That’s something I’ve only ever heard when being addressed formally at the Association, never while working as a hunter.” His skin crawled with goosebumps. It felt unnatural, as though the word didn’t belong attached to his name. Flustered, Hansol hurriedly spoke.

“Could you just leave off the ‘sir’?”

“Then… Hansol?”

“Yes. That will do.”

“You’re certainly different from other healers, Hansol.”

“…Different in the worst sense, yes.”

A self-deprecating laugh escaped him. The fact that he had been stuck at level one for five years, and that even now he was barely level fifteen—indeed, that was very different.

“But still, it’s fortunate that it was you who came to support us.”

“……”

Kassie smiled brightly, childlike features shining. Guilt tugged at Hansol. He wasn’t support. England had been abandoned by the world long ago. Lips parting as though to explain, he shut them again when he saw Kassie’s sparkling blue eyes.

This man—did Kassie truly not know that England had been forsaken?

“Hansol, your hand.”

“…?”

“Your hand.”

“What?”

Kassie’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, suddenly stretching out his hand as though calling a puppy.

Hansol blinked in confusion, staring at him. Surely he didn’t mean they should stroll across the battlefield hand in hand? What on earth was he asking for?

“Ah.”

While Hansol hesitated, staring at the outstretched palm, Kassie suddenly seized his hand, enclosing it between both of his own. In that moment, a system message appeared.

Mana recovery increased by 500% for one hour.

The fading buff surged anew, wrapping around him once again. So that’s what this was for.

Kassie winked playfully, releasing his hand with a bright smile.

“Our diligent healer will be off to heal again, won’t he?”

“Ah, yes.”

Of course, he intended to. Sanctuary might amplify his healing in unexpected ways.

“Then I wish you well.”

“……!”

Kassie’s hand brushed his shoulder, his face suddenly close. Something soft touched Hansol’s forehead, and in the same instant his vision flared white. The brilliance was so intense he could not keep his eyes open. Unconsciously, he squeezed them shut.

“…Cha Hansol?”

A cool breeze swept past him. The warmth that had embraced him moments ago, the stench of blood, the smoke—all were gone. In its place was air almost fragrant in its clarity. Slowly, Hansol opened his tightly shut eyes.

“…?”

Strange. Why was he seeing the Hunter Association building he had left just that morning—specifically, Building C?

The surreal sight made him stagger. Thankfully, he managed to brace his knee against the ground, sparing himself a disgraceful fall. But that was hardly the issue.

“Cha Hansol, do you know where you are?”

A man in a white coat, radiating the aura of a researcher, stepped closer and addressed him.

“…The Hunter… Association?”

“Mm. And what is today’s date?”

“…October… 19th.”

Yes. It had to be. After all, it had been less than a day since he’d been transported to England through dimensional travel. The date shouldn’t have changed. Hansol began answering the man’s questions one by one, slowly grasping the reality before him. He glanced around. This was indeed Building C of the Hunter Association, where he had entered the dimensional portal that morning. But the question remained: why was he back here?

“Oh, it seems there’s about a ten-day discrepancy in the timeline.”

“Ten days…?”

“Today is October 29th. That means it has been exactly ten days since you were dispatched.”

“……!”

What the hell…?

The fragile balance he had just regained faltered once more. Not only had he returned without warning, but apparently ten days had passed in that brief time. He glared at the man, unwilling to believe such absurdity. Yet the man only smiled faintly as he scribbled notes, his demeanor tinged with quiet condescension but lacking any sign of deceit.