Indeed, there was a small label stuck to the bottle. At the top, in the common language of humans, Canaan scrutinized it for a moment, and it seemed to read “Water of Life.” Beneath the label was obviously something newly written, the ink not yet dry, with a line of very crudely written Demon Language: Pour on the wound.
He had speculated a lot about who the metal sphere might belong to, and whether the other party really intended to save him. When he saw the handwriting on the label, Canaan suddenly realized the truth.
This clumsy Demon Script was identical to the text on the Misty Cabin’s sign.
It was from the owner’s hand.
Canaan’s hands trembled slightly, and a thin film of moisture covered his eyes.
At least someone in Lassudral still remembered him.
Canaan furrowed his brow, suppressed the surge of emotion, and quietly said thank you.
…
Half an hour later, Angel was still searching for any trace of humans through the Scouting Puppet when footsteps were heard from outside the Domain of Wind.
The footsteps were unstable and staggering.
Angel turned his head and glanced at Fafnir, who was guzzling drink and gorging on meat. When Fafnir’s gaze reached outside the Domain of Wind, and she clearly saw the figure outside, she didn’t say a word, with a casual wave of her hand.
A gap appeared in the Domain of Wind.
Through the gap, one could clearly see the thick smoke covering the sky outside.
Within the rolling smoke, a figure stumbled in. As the figure entered the courtyard, the gap in the Domain of Wind sealed itself back up.
As soon as the person entered the courtyard, they leaned against a nearby tree, gasping for air. It took a good while to settle their breathing before they raised their head and said, “Lady Fafnir, the owner… I have returned.”
“Running out at a time like this, you’re just asking for trouble,” Fafnir said with a cold laugh after inspecting the person’s chest and abdominal wounds.
Angel, on the other hand, greeted them with a smile, “Are your injuries feeling any better?”
The person was indeed Canaan. After being treated with the Water of Life, its wounds had slowly started to heal but a complete recovery would still require a prolonged period of rest.
“Much better,” Canaan nodded, “Thanks to the owner’s potion, otherwise I reckon I would have died out there.”
“Had you not possessed the will to live, you wouldn’t have held out until the Scouting Puppet appeared,” Angel replied.
This acknowledgment by Angel, that it was indeed him who had sent the medicine, deepened Canaan’s sense of gratitude. For it, without Angel’s help, there might have been no hope.
Not knowing quite how to express his gratitude, Canaan simply kept repeating his thanks.
“There’s no need for thanks, think of it as a parting benefit for an employee,” Angel said casually, unconcerned. “Hold on, I’ll check your wound.”
Angel squatted down to inspect Canaan’s injury. From his perspective through the Scouting Puppet, he had suspected it to be a through-and-through wound. Now, seeing it in person, it was indeed the case.
The wound was in the process of healing, but that would at most ensure Canaan wouldn’t die. For complete healing, Canaan would have to find a way himself.
Of course, Angel had medicines that could instantly heal Canaan’s injuries, such as the life-saving Water from Ironclad Granny with such effects. However, even Angel was in short supply of such precious potions.
Moreover, with the tenacity of a demon’s physique, as long as Canaan didn’t act recklessly, recovery was inevitable sooner or later.
After assessing the injury, a look of puzzlement appeared on Angel’s face; Canaan really had no other injuries besides the single through-and-through wound… Earlier, he had speculated whether Canaan might have fought with someone, but it now seemed that was not the case.
“How did you get this wound?” Angel asked curiously.
Canaan fell silent, his expression dimming, seemingly reluctant to speak.
Angel didn’t want to press, ready to move past the question, but just then, after a long silence, Canaan softly said:
“It was caused by a tentacle piercing from Nitotipu.”
Nitotipu? Angel wore a look of confusion. Who was that?
“Nitotipu is one of the seven seats in the Void Tower,” Fafnir said while continuing to eat, speaking nonchalantly, “Its true form is an octopus. Speaking of which, I’ve always wanted to taste what its tentacles would be like?”
As she said this, Fafnir cut a small piece of Magic Marrow Meat with a silver knife, forked it, and placed it into her mouth. Her delicate tongue licked the edges of her lips, conveying a formidable presence.
Angel was briefly stunned before realizing that for Nitotipu to be listed among the seven seats of the Void Tower, it must be one of the great demons at the very top of the Lassudral Pyramid.
Since Fafnir said its true form was an octopus, Angel recalled one of the demons that flew out from the Void Tower earlier seemed to match Fafnir’s description quite well.