Player Chapter 19. Common Sense
She tightened her grip on her staff.
'Don't project.'
"System," Riven murmured under his breath.
[Yes, sir.]
"Leak probability?"
[High. Precision targeting of the caravan route. Timing aligned with the arrival schedule. Presence of disguised combatants suggests intelligence infiltration.]
He clicked his tongue softly. 'Yeah, figured.'
Elena glanced at him. "You talk to yourself a lot."
He shrugged lightly. "Helps me think."
She did not comment. Because she did too. Just… differently.
A groan pulled her attention back to the injured. She knelt beside the nearest one, a guard with a collapsed lung, blood bubbling faintly at his lips. She pressed her palm over his chest, light blooming softly.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Warm radiance flowed, sealing torn tissue, knitting veins, slowing blood loss. The guard gasped, air finally filling properly. She exhaled. One stabilized.
Behind her, Riven was dragging the chained fake vampire past overturned crates, stopping briefly to nudge aside debris and check pulses. He didn't look like he cared. But he kept checking.
Second critical. An elderly merchant. Deep abdominal wound. Too much blood lost.
Elena poured more light into him. Her hands trembled slightly.
She bit her lip.
The man's breathing steadied, but the light dimmed faster this time. She felt it. The difference. Too weak. Too drained. Her healing couldn't restore what wasn't there anymore.
"Please…" she murmured.
Riven stepped closer. Quietly.
He saw the way her shoulders stiffened. The way her jaw tightened. He'd seen that look before. The one that said she knew the math and hated it.
"Can't?" he asked softly.
She didn't look at him. "I can stabilize him. But…"
"But he won't recover fully without proper care," Riven finished.
She nodded once. Tiny. Controlled.
They were not people who had received the Light Temple's Blessings. So the healing spells were less effective for them.
He crouched beside her. For a second, he considered using [Mana Manifestation (Water)] to cool the wound, reduce infection risk. But that wasn't the issue. It was volume. Loss.
He placed a hand briefly on her shoulder. Not dramatic. Not comforting. Just grounding.
"You did enough," he said.
She almost laughed at that. Enough? Enough would have been no attack. Enough would have been prevention. But she didn't argue. She just nodded.
Third critical.
And then she froze.
This one was different.
Young. Early twenties. Clean hands despite wearing commoner clothes. Fabric too fine for a caravan laborer. Even blood-soaked, the stitching was obvious. And the way he lay, not curled. Not panicked. Structured.
Elena's pulse quickened.
She pressed her palm to his chest. Light flared.
The young man coughed violently, eyes snapping open. Sharp. Alert. Not dazed.
He tried to sit up immediately.
"Don't," she ordered.
He blinked at her, processing quickly. Too quickly.
Riven stepped around to face him. Their eyes met.
And something passed between them.
Recognition. Not of faces. Of type.
This one isn't ordinary, Riven thought.
The young man's gaze flicked to the chained captive behind Riven. His jaw tightened. "You're not civilians," he rasped.
Riven raised an eyebrow. "Neither are you."
Elena looked between them. "You need rest."
The young man ignored that. "They targeted the third wagon," he said quickly. "Specifically. They bypassed valuables."
Riven smiled faintly. "Yeah. We noticed."
The young man's eyes sharpened further. "Then you understand."
Elena's mind clicked into place slowly. The third wagon. She had seen the formation. It had been positioned oddly. Guarded subtly but not overtly.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.
The young man hesitated. For half a second. That half second told Riven everything.
He leaned back slightly, casual. "Let me guess," he said. "Noble. Running undercover investigation because you suspected the attacks were staged. Joined the caravan secretly. Thought you were being clever."
Silence.
Yup, he'd just hit the bullseye.
How did he know?
With a dad who owned a gaming empire and a mom who had been babbling about story plots for as long as he could remember, it wasn't hard to figure out. Especially in a typical game with a plot like this. He could play a brand-new game without knowing the storyline, where to go, or how to finish it and still clear it. Not to mention, some games were adapted from novels.
Elena stared at him.
The young man exhaled sharply. "Who are you?"
"Riven," he replied easily. "Professional overthinker."
Elena felt the world tilt slightly again. 'A noble? Here?'
"My name is Prince Eric." The young man lowered his voice. "Someone leaked my presence. They attacked to eliminate me. Not loot."
There it was. Confirmation.
Elena felt anger spike, not loud, but cold. Someone inside the city.
"You should not have been here," she said quietly.
He gave a weak smile. "And yet."
Riven watched him carefully. No arrogance. No theatrics. Just calculation. This wasn't some pampered fool. This was someone who had decided to risk it and now realized the cost.
"You almost died," Riven said bluntly.
"Yes."
"And you'd do it again?"
The prince didn't answer verbally. But his eyes did.
Elena saw it too. And something inside her softened despite herself. Reckless idiot.
Riven stood slowly. "Great. So we have fake vampires, internal leaks, and a secret prince who thought blending in was a good idea." He rubbed his temple. 'And why do I get nothing from this? This is supposed to be a quest!'
[Helping them is your decision. The system doesn't reward you for it.]
The prince coughed again, trying to push himself up. Riven placed a hand on his shoulder and gently but firmly pushed him back down.
"You're staying horizontal."
"That is an order?"
"It is common sense."
Elena hid a smile. Barely.
She finished stabilizing the prince, pouring controlled light into him. He was weak but no longer dying.
The glow around her palm faded slowly, like the last ember of a candle giving up the fight. She exhaled through her nose, steady, measured. To anyone watching, she looked composed. Saintly. Controlled.
Inside? She was running on fumes and stubbornness.