The Last Archmage Reborn as the Forgotten Heir

Chapter 04

The night still held a lingering chill after the rain. Kaelan stood for a moment at the mouth of the narrow alley. The blood on his sleeves had already dried, while a sharp ache in his chest flared every time he took too deep a breath.

He stepped out. One step, then the next. This body had indeed come back to life, but it was far from recovered.

I pushed the Mana Core too hard.

The cracks within the mana core were still acutely felt deep inside his soul. The external wounds were closing, but the internal injuries had not truly healed. Only a few meters into his walk, his vision suddenly blurred and his steps turned wobbly.

"Damn it..."

Kaelan reached for a lamppost on the edge of the sidewalk, his fingers gripping the cold iron tightly. He forced himself to stand straight. Just a little more. I just need to get out of this place.

Yet his body refused to obey commands. His knees lost all strength, and thud, one knee slammed against the pavement. His breath hitched, while the agony from his fractured ribs rippled across his entire chest.

...How annoying.

In his previous life, he had stood facing the Demon King without ever kneeling. Now, he struggled merely to maintain his balance.

"Hey!" A girl's voice called out from behind.

Kaelan did not turn around immediately as light footsteps approached. "Are you okay?"

He slowly raised his head. A girl stood a few steps away from him, her dark brown hair tied simply. A cream-colored hoodie covered her work uniform, while a bakery-branded paper bag was clutched in her hand. Her gaze was filled with concern.

Kaelan tried to get up on his own. "I'm fine."

The moment he stood, the world spun all over again. His body listed to the side.

"Whoa!" The girl reflexively caught his arm before he collapsed.

Kaelan immediately turned to her with an icy glare. "Let go."

His tone was flat. Not harsh, but enough to make her quickly release his arm and take a step back. "Sorry. I was just afraid you'd fall again."

Kaelan leaned against the lamppost, trying to regulate his breathing. Several seconds passed in silence. The girl studied his face a torn temple, cracked lips, and bruises covering his jaw. Her eyes widened slightly. "...Kaelan?"

Kaelan stared at her. "You know me?"

"We go to the same college."

Silence. Kaelan couldn't find any name in his head. Seeing his blank expression, the girl smiled faintly. "I'm Lyra Whitmore."

The name stirred a fragment of memory a campus corridor, a female student frequently passing by the library carrying a box of pastries. Just a brief flash, with no real connection.

"Sorry," Kaelan answered shortly. "I don't remember."

Lyra gave a small shrug. "Fair enough. We've never actually talked." She glanced at the wounds on Kaelan's hands. "Were you beaten up?"

"You could say that."

"Who did it?"

"None of your business."

The answer slipped out effortlessly. Lyra fell silent for a moment, not pushing for answers. Instead, she opened the paper bag, pulled out a bottle of mineral water, and offered it to him. "Drink some first."

Kaelan shook his head. "Unnecessary."

"You look dehydrated."

"I can still walk."

Lyra looked down at Kaelan's legs, which were still trembling slightly. "If you can still walk, why did you almost fall twice?"

Kaelan didn't answer. Lyra let out a soft sigh. "So stubborn." She kept the bottle extended.

After a few seconds, Kaelan finally accepted it. "Don't bother expecting it back."

Kaelan unscrewed the cap and took a few sips. The cold water slid down his parched throat, easing the dizziness a fraction. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lyra replied.

There was no awkward small talk or blushing. To Lyra, it was simply a minor act of assistance toward an injured classmate. She slid her hand back into the bakery bag. "Have you eaten?"

This body's instincts answered first. Not since yesterday. "No."

Lyra pulled a pastry out of the paper bag. "This is leftover bakery bread. Still good to eat."

"I can buy my own."

Lyra glanced at Kaelan's torn hoodie and the thin wallet visible in his pocket. "Buy your own another time." She slipped the pastry into Kaelan's hand without waiting for an answer.

Kaelan stared at the bread for a few seconds. Strange. For thousands of years of life, almost no one had ever given him anything without expecting something in return. This girl didn't even know him.

"Why are you helping me?" The question came out flat.

Lyra thought about it for a brief moment. "Because you need help."

"Just that?"

"Just that."

A simple answer without complicated reasons or conditions. Kaelan looked into the girl's face longer, finding not a trace of deceit. A moment later, he took a small bite of the bread. Lyra smiled slightly. "There, that makes more sense."

Before Kaelan could finish a single bite, his body swayed again. The view ahead blurred, and the water bottle nearly slipped from his grip.

Lyra stepped forward immediately. "Kaelan!"

"I'm still conscious."

"Yeah, I know."

"No need to panic." Lyra caught his arm again, this time with more caution.

"Your breathing is heavy."

"I can still manage."

"Are you really refusing to go to the hospital?"

"No."

"Why?"

Kaelan closed his eyes for a second, weathering the renewed pain radiating from deep within his chest. "There's no point."

Lyra frowned. "No point how? You're covered in injuries."

Kaelan opened his eyes slowly. His tone remained calm a decision not open to debate. "I don't want to go there."

Lyra watched him for quite a while before finally relenting. She let out a quiet breath. "...Fine. Then come with me."

Kaelan raised an eyebrow. "My apartment is close by."

"Unnecessary."

"Necessary." Lyra pointed at an old three-story building across the street. "Just five minutes."

"I don't want to be a burden."

"You've been a burden since you collapsed right in front of me."

Kaelan fell silent. The words sounded brutally honest, yet strangely didn't offend him. Lyra resumed walking without pulling or forcing him, simply moving at a slow pace ahead.

Kaelan watched the girl's back for a few seconds. Then, without saying another word, he followed her away from the wet pavement toward a small apartment at the end of the street illuminated by dim night lights.