Synthesis-type adventurers

Chapter 59 Expensive Kindness

Rod shook the mud off the back of his hand and pushed open the half-collapsed wooden door to the basement, which was groaning in the wind.

The dampness of mold, mixed with the rusty smell of blood, hit me in the face.

Rod scanned the dimly lit space, his gaze settling on the corner of the wall.

Avira slumped there, half of her prized plate armor removed and piled at her feet.

The linen shirt on the injured side was lifted up, revealing that the once white bandage was now soaked with blood and had turned a dark reddish-brown.

The female knight bit a wooden stick covered in teeth marks, cold sweat pooling on her forehead and streaming down her ashen face.

A horrifying bruise appeared on her left rib, with broken bone fragments protruding alarmingly beneath the skin.

Avira pressed her trembling right hand against the edge of the wound, trying to hold the broken bone that was drifting with her breath. Each breath was accompanied by a sickening grinding sound of bones grinding together.

Avira is trying to set her bones manually.

The bottle of alchemical potion left by Rhodes stood on the muddy floor, the wax seal on the bottle intact.

"If you want to puncture your lungs and become a cripple who can only spend the rest of his life in bed, then keep pressing down." Rod's voice suddenly rang out.

Avira's fingers stiffened, and the wooden stick fell to the ground with a clatter.

She raised her head, her emerald pupils contracting instantly, but upon seeing that familiar face, her tense body relaxed, and her gaze shifted somewhat awkwardly elsewhere.

"Lord Rhodes," she breathed slightly, her voice hoarse from the pain, "my injuries are nothing serious. I just need to rest for a few days after my turn..."

"A few days to rest? This team doesn't have time for you to rest."

Rod strode over, slapped her hand away, and glanced at the unopened bottle of medicine.

In his exclusive field of vision, several words with blue-purple light were floating on this seemingly ordinary bottle of potent flesh activator.

"Why aren't you drinking?" Rod asked, his brow furrowed.

"It's too valuable." Avira lowered her head, avoiding Rhodes's gaze. "A healing potion of this purity would cost at least 30 Guild Orim at the Imperial Auction House. I already owe you..."

"You know that much," Rod snorted, interrupting her.

He grabbed the medicine, flicked it with his thumb, and broke the wax seal.

Open your mouth.

"Lord Rhodes, I really..."

"This is an order, my debt slave."

Without a word, Rod grabbed Avira's chin with his left hand, forcing her to look up, and shoved the mouthpiece of the potion bottle into her mouth with his right hand.

"Who will pay off the debt if you die? Your corpse wouldn't even fetch a fraction of the price of this potion."

The spicy, warm liquid was forced down the throat and into the stomach.

The next second, Avira groaned, arched her body, and slammed heavily against the damp stone wall behind her.

The effects of the purple and blue entries spread rapidly throughout her body.

The broken ribs were forced back into place by the muscles, making a cracking sound that made your scalp tingle. The damaged muscle fibers wriggled and twisted, and the wound was throbbing with an itchy pain that felt like thousands of ants were gnawing at it, which was far more torturous to the nerves than when the injury was first made.

In the [Analysis View], the dark gray [Multiple Fractures] label in the status bar above Avira's head is flashing at a high frequency, and then changes to [Bone Repositioning] which is rapidly healing.

Only after Avira's breathing returned to normal did Rod stand up, pull out the black notebook with curled corners from his pouch, and draw a heavy line on the page with a charcoal pencil.

"That's 30 orms, it's on your tab." Rhodes closed the notebook, tucked it back into his belt, and said, "If you want to pay it back, you'd better work even harder from now on. My team doesn't tolerate idlers, and we certainly don't provide for the dead... Understand?"

Avira leaned against the wall, and as the excruciating pain subsided, her body relaxed for the first time in a long time.

She raised her head and stared intently at the petty man in front of her.

He uttered harsh debt-collecting words and calculated the whereabouts of every single copper coin, but his fingers, which had just removed the wax seal, showed no hesitation.

In Rust Harbor, where human life is cheaper than rust, perhaps only he would be willing to spend 30 orms without hesitation for a debtor.

"I understand," Avira replied softly, her emerald eyes reflecting Rhodes's retreating figure, her gaze even more resolute. "In the name of Griffin, I will repay this debt with sword and shield... not a single penny less."

"Stop talking nonsense, get up if you can move." Rhodes offered her his hand. "Our blacksmith is waiting for us to check on him."

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The rain subsided, and the puddles in the street reflected the heavy oak door of the blacksmith's shop.

The gate still stands firm, but there are now several deep drag marks on the bluestone pavement in front of it, with cracked edges.

Across the street, the row of completely smashed wooden fences and the discarded wine barrels reduced to shards of wood silently testified to the destructive power of the conflict that had just occurred.

Torrin Ironforge sat on a greasy wooden crate in the room, pressing a block of ice he had begged from a nearby tavern against his forehead.

His beard was matted and covered in sawdust and swill, but that didn't diminish his booming roar: "Damn it... that red-haired madwoman, she actually used me as a fly swatter!"

The dwarf cursed and angrily pounded the ground with the handle of his forging hammer.

"Ouch... my head, and my back... if these old bones hadn't been forged by the furnace, I would be meeting my ancestors right now! That kind of monstrous strength... is she really human? Even a young sub-dragon wouldn't be this outrageous!"

"Hey, old Tolin, looks like your head's harder than that oak stump across the street." Rhodes stepped over the shards of wood and into the dimly lit blacksmith shop. "To only get a bulge from a half-dragon's casual blow, you certainly have something to brag about."

"Rhodes, you bastard, you dare come back!" Torin turned to Rhodes, his eyes glaring. "A half-dragon? Ha! I knew it! A normal woman's fist doesn't feel like a battering ram!"

He jumped off the wooden crate, pointing to the purplish-blue swelling on his forehead: "This is a work injury, absolutely a work injury! And my emotional distress... As a noble master blacksmith, to be thrown into a swill bucket like garbage, how will this be accounted for?!"

Rhodes's [Analysis Vision] swept over, and a dwarf-exclusive talent appeared on Torin: [Hard Skull (Blue)].

This entry is indeed useful; such a massive impact only resulted in a mild concussion.

Rhodes glanced at the attribute entries, then pulled out a heavy deerskin money pouch from his pocket and tossed it aside.

Tolin instinctively raised his hand to catch it.

The purse felt heavy in my hand, and the metallic clang was dull and solid.

The dwarf suspiciously opened the bag, and the golden luster illuminated his old face covered with soot and wrinkles.

Ten hexagonal gold coins, each bearing a design of a sailboat and a balance scale, lay quietly inside.

"Is this enough to cure your headache?" Rod asked.

Tolin weighed the money pouch in his hand, and the flush on his face quickly subsided.

"Hmph... Since they are pure gold coins, I won't bother with them."

The dwarf swiftly stuffed the money pouch into his inner pocket, his practiced movements clearly demonstrating countless repetitions. The anger on his face vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.

"They paid the medical bills quite readily. But seriously, Rhodes, who exactly is that woman? How did you end up messing with a half-dragon?"