Building The First Adventurer Guild In Another World-Chapter 220: Regret

The silence that followed Cassian’s explanation lingered long after his words had settled, hanging in the room like a delicate layer of frost that no one dared disturb.

The healing formation pulsed faintly above Mina’s small body, its soft light breathing in slow intervals as if mirroring her fragile state. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and burned mana.

No one moved, neither Valeria nor Vanthrice, nor the mercenaries gathered near the wall. Even the faint rustle of cloth and armor faded into stillness, as though the room itself had chosen restraint, unwilling to intrude on the delicate line between life and loss that Mina now walked.

Cassian remained at her bedside, hands lowered and eyes distant with calculation, already weighing possibilities, resources, and risks.

When he finally spoke again, his tone shifted slightly; it was no longer merely explanatory but carried the quiet gravity of a healer delivering terms of survival.

"If she is to recover," he said slowly, "it will not be through rest alone. Time can stabilize a wounded soul but only if the damage is minor. In her case... it is not. The impact has fractured her soul’s structure and weakened the core that sustains her consciousness."

He glanced at the glowing formation before returning his gaze to Sage. "Without intervention, her condition will deteriorate, not immediately or even this week but gradually. Her awareness may return in fragments or may not return at all."

Sage stood there silently, eyes fixed on Mina as he absorbed Cassian’s words.

"To repair that damage," Cassian continued calmly and clinically, like someone outlining tools needed for surgery...

"We require substances that can nourish the soul directly, high-concentration soul herbs, refined artifacts imbued with spiritual resonance, potions capable of stabilizing and strengthening a fractured core. These are not things we can improvise or substitute; they must be genuine, potent, and properly prepared."

He paused then; his next words were heavier. "And that is where the difficulty lies."

The tension in the room tightened once more.

Cassian exhaled softly. "The Evergreen Region is a low-tier resource zone. Its mana density is stable and its ecosystem balanced but lacks depth for producing high-grade soul materials. Artifacts of that nature rarely appear here; when they do, noble factions claim them immediately or trade them beyond reach. Potions affecting the soul are even rarer, they require both ingredients and skilled alchemists for refinement, neither of which are common in this territory."

His voice lowered slightly not to soften reality but to present it without cruelty. "In simple terms... what she needs isn’t easily found here."

The implication settled like a slow-moving shadow.

Valeria’s expression remained unchanged, though her fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of her sword. Vanthrice shifted her weight, letting her gaze drop to the floor. The mercenaries stood in silence, their faces drawn, each one grasping the reality of the situation without needing further explanation.

And then there was Sage. He stood still, as if the words had merely passed through him rather than struck him directly.High soul-energy herbs, rare soul artifacts, soul potions.

These terms echoed faintly in his mind not loud or sharp but persistent, circling slowly and pressing deeper with each repetition. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, something stirred: a memory.

At first, it was vague, like a shape seen through fog. Gradually, it sharpened into a scene, a moment of decision.

The Soul Expansion Potion. The potion he got from the system as a reward.

His breath faltered slightly as clarity washed over him, he remembered how the translucent liquid inside that vial shimmered faintly, pulsing with a soft glow unlike ordinary mana.

He recalled its description and implications: a potion designed to strengthen the soul, expand its capacity, refine its structure, a rare reward earned through risk and battle.

He had held it in his hand once before.And he had hesitated not out of fear or doubt about its effectiveness but because of an inexplicable feeling urging him to wait, to consider keeping it just a little longer.

He remembered sitting alone in his bedroom with that vial in his palm; the weight of that decision pressed lightly yet persistently on him. Then he recalled ignoring that instinct, drinking it instead, feeling the surge through his body as his soul expanded and clarity followed; breaking into the next stage of his power.

And now...

Now realization settled within him like an unavoidable truth: that potion... would have saved her. Not gradually or partially but instantly.

This thought didn’t shock him; it came with certainty, a certainty that left no room for denial.

Outwardly, he didn’t react; he didn’t stagger or gasp or speak. But inside him something collapsed quietly like a structure giving way under its own weight.

If I had kept it...

If I had listened...

If I had waited...

His chest tightened not just with panic or grief but with something heavier, something suffocating: regret. It wasn’t loud or dramatic; it simply existed, thick and unrelenting.

Cassian continued speaking about possibilities and alternatives, routes they could take and contacts they might reach, but Sage barely registered any details now. Words reached him but didn’t fully sink in, his mind anchored itself to that single memory, the vial, the hesitation, the decision replaying in fragments.

He recalled the moment that followed, the faint unease that lingered, the feeling that something remained unresolved, a choice made too hastily. At the time, he had brushed it aside. Now, the reason lay before him, pale and still on a bed of healing runes.

His jaw tightened slightly, but no one noticed. He kept his gaze steady and his posture unchanged while his thoughts spiraled inward, folding in on themselves. This was not something he could voice or confess aloud. How would it sound? I had the means to save her... and I used it on myself.

Even if the decision had seemed logical then, if it had strengthened him and allowed him to protect others later, none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the outcome. She lay there, her soul fractured, and the solution had once been within his grasp.

A faint tremor passed through his fingers; he forced them to remain still again. The room held its silence as Cassian finished speaking and let the weight of his words settle in. No one asked questions or offered false reassurances; they all understood how uncertain and fragile things were, far from resolved.

Valeria’s gaze flicked briefly toward Sage, studying him as if sensing a shift in his presence, the subtle tightening around his eyes and the stillness now weighed down by something heavier than before. She didn’t speak; she simply watched.

Sage didn’t look at her. His focus remained on Mina. Her breathing was shallow yet steady, a fragile rhythm sustained by the gentle pulsing of the healing formation, keeping her stable for now but buying only time.

Time, that was all they had left: time to search, time to prepare, time to hope. Yet again, a thought crept back in, quiet but relentless: "If I hadn’t used it... If I had just kept it... She would already be safe."

The regret didn’t explode within him; it didn’t overwhelm him with tears or anger. Instead, it settled deep inside, silent and unavoidable, a weight he couldn’t shift.

He took a slow breath to steady himself, forcing his thoughts into order. This wasn’t the moment to collapse or drown in what couldn’t be undone. What was done... was done. What mattered now was what came next.

His eyes stayed fixed on Mina; though his expression remained calm and composed, an undeniable truth pressed against his chest, a quiet guilt he would carry without voicing or displaying because some regrets don’t need words to be felt, they simply lingered.

In that silence, Sage realized something painfully clear, sometimes the most devastating wounds aren’t visible on the body but are carried alone beneath a facade of composure where no one else can reach and no one else can heal them.