Seraphine voiced the question that had weighed on her heart the most —
a question she had buried deep within her.
"Was it because you knew I was from House Roland?"
Her expression grew complicated, her emotions a swirling storm.
After all, Link was the first person — aside from her family's elders — who had willingly risked his life to protect her.
"What's House Roland?"
Link frowned, and immediately responded with a serious expression:
"Don't misunderstand."
"My saving you had absolutely nothing to do with your family background."
"I chose to help you simply because you're my classmate. You happened to be standing there, and I didn't hesitate."
"If it had been anyone else in your place, I would've done the same."
After saying this, Link secretly let out a sigh of relief.
He couldn't let her think he had feelings for her —
That would be far too troublesome.
After all, he was destined to save the world.
Where would he find time for something as frivolous as love?
Luckily, he thought, he had been clever enough.
Surely, with such a clear explanation, she wouldn't read too much into it.
Of course, the truth was —
Link had rushed forward mostly because he intended to sacrifice himself to uncover vital information.
Meanwhile, on the other side —
Seraphine stood there, frozen.
Link's simple statement — so plain, so direct —
shattered the carefully constructed world she had lived in for so many years.
In an instant, everything she once believed was turned upside down.
So... she was more than just House Roland's daughter.
She was also Seraphine.
There were still people who would choose to save her,
not because of her family name —
but simply because she was herself.
Their encounter had been their first.
Link couldn't possibly have known who she was.
Which meant...
everything he said must have been genuine.
It was just because...
they were classmates.
Countless thoughts raced through Seraphine's mind.
She lifted her head, her eyes wide with confusion, and asked quietly:
"If I'm your classmate…
then… are we friends?"
Link paused for a moment, then shrugged casually.
"Although we've only met once," he said,
"I guess we could call each other friends."
"We're classmates, and we might even be future comrades-in-arms.
Of course I wouldn't just stand by and watch you get hurt."
Seraphine nodded slowly.
Though she still felt that something was off, she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
After a moment of silence,
a soft, radiant smile bloomed on her lips —
and in that instant, it was as if all the light in the world had gathered around her.
"I understand, Link," she said gently.
"You should rest well. I won't disturb you any longer.
I'll come visit again tomorrow."
With that, Seraphine turned and left the ward,
her steps light, almost dancing,
and even humming an unfamiliar tune under her breath.
Link stared at her retreating figure, a little dumbfounded.
Did I say something strange?
Why did her mood change so drastically?
"I get it," Link muttered to himself.
"She must be one of those rich kids who never had real friends before."
Raising his voice, he called out half-heartedly:
"You don't have to come tomorrow!"
But there was no reply.
Seraphine had already disappeared down the corridor.
Link rubbed his forehead in exasperation.
In truth, his current situation wasn't suitable for making too many friends.
He had too many burdens on his shoulders, too much responsibility.
He was destined to become humanity's savior —
There was no room for frivolous distractions like romance.
A heart without women, and the sword becomes divine.
...
Link stood up from the bed, carefully stretching his muscles.
A month of coma had disrupted many of his plans.
Part of him even wanted to rewind time —
to roll back a month and reclaim the time he had lost.
Unfortunately, reality was harsh.
Even if he used Death Rewind,
he would simply return to the moment of falling into a coma —
utterly pointless.
This incident highlighted a critical flaw in Death Rewind:
If he ever fell into a state where he couldn't actively "die" — such as unconsciousness — his talent would be rendered useless.
Thus, a pressing issue now loomed before him:
He needed to find a way to guarantee death under necessary circumstances,
thereby triggering a rewind when needed.
He had to plan carefully.
Link sighed to himself, then stood up and retrieved a small bottle from his backpack:
Fortification Elixir.
He chuckled to himself.
This elixir had been given to him by a scar-faced uncle during his earlier adventures.
Now was the perfect time to use it —
to strengthen his body through the Flesh Forging Art.
As he thought of this, Link couldn't help but wonder:
Would the camp offer him any compensation for the "accident" he had suffered?
Honestly, his expectations weren't high.
If they threw in a few hundred bottles of Fortification Elixir, he would be quite content.
"I should have a proper conversation with Sergeant Martin later," he mused.
Shaking his head, he pushed all these messy thoughts aside,
then uncorked the bottle.
Immediately, a dense, metallic smell of blood wafted into the room,
causing Link to shudder instinctively.
But he quickly steeled himself, tipped his head back, and gulped the entire contents down.
Within just a few breaths,
he felt an explosive surge of strength racing through his veins.
Following the instructions recorded in the "Dragon Flesh Forging Art",
he circulated his spiritual power throughout his body.
He could even vaguely sense the power taking the form of a coiling dragon,
swimming through his flesh and bones.
His strength visibly and rapidly increased.
After about half an hour,
Link was drenched in sweat, his body utterly exhausted,
and he collapsed onto the bed —
but his heart pounded with excitement.
With the assistance of psionic potions,
his training efficiency had skyrocketed!
"Lib," he commanded,
"prepare a suitable psionic potion formula for me."
"Yes, Master,"
Lib replied crisply.
"I have found two appropriate recipes for you."
Link carefully memorized the formulas,
then continued strengthening his mind power late into the night.
...
Three days passed in a blur.
Sergeant Martin looked at the lively, fully recovered Link standing before him,
and let out a deep breath of relief.
"Link," Martin said gravely,
"are you absolutely sure about this?"
"Even if you don't participate in the upcoming training,
the camp has already listed you as an outstanding trainee."
"But if you choose to continue…
you'll have to go to the front lines."
"There, you'll have no room for regret.
If something truly dangerous happens —
no one will be able to save you."
"You must understand —
over the years, countless geniuses have fallen on the front lines."
"I sincerely hope you'll reconsider.
Staying behind and focusing on cultivation isn't a bad choice.
You're still young —
there will be plenty of opportunities to fight in the future."
But to Martin's surprise,
Link shook his head firmly without the slightest hesitation.
"Sergeant Martin,"
Link said steadily,
"I've already made my decision."
"Honestly, I don't feel worthy of being called an outstanding trainee —
I haven't truly proven myself yet."
"I want to go to the front lines.
I want to compete alongside the others,
relying on my own strength."
"Don't worry, sir,"
Link added with a bright smile.
"I'll take good care of myself."