The Monster King's Legacy-Chapter 72: A Hard-Fought Victory

Lance stood near the center of the camp, his sword resting tip-first in the ground as he surveyed the aftermath. He scanned the area, taking in the wounded goblins being tended to by Mira, the charred barricades Kaeli had built, and the bloodstained spear Rynne carried as she barked final orders to the remaining warriors. The camp itself hadn’t received much damage at all, save for some minor ones left by the beasts that had managed to break through before being hunted down right after.

"We did it," Zarra said, appearing beside him with her bow slung over her shoulder and her twin daggers sheathed. Her eyes held both exhaustion and satisfaction. "I don’t know how, but we did it."

Lance nodded, though the weight of the battle still pressed heavily on his shoulders. "We won," he said, his voice steady. "But it wasn’t easy."

Looking at the wounded, Lance could easily heal them all, but he chose not to following something that happened previously.

…

[Some Time Back]

Lance sat at a wooden table near the medical tent, watching as Mira worked with quiet determination. She moved about, her hands glowing faintly with magic as she prepared herbal poultices and sorted through bundles of freshly gathered plants.

"Mira," Lance called, his voice soft but enough to catch her attention.

She looked up, her emerald eyes meeting his. "Lance. Are you feeling alright? Your injuries from the fight…" She said, her voice a bit down.

"I’m fine," Lance said with a reassuring smile. "Your healing magic did the trick, as always."

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the praise, and she quickly looked back down at her work. "It’s nothing compared to what you can do," she said, her tone modest, just down by a faint bit.

Sensing the minute shift in her tone, Lance was curious about her response, so he stood and walked closer, leaning against the edge of the table. "Mira, you’re such an amazing healer. I’ve seen how much you’ve done for this tribe. Why do you doubt yourself?" He asked.

Mira paused, her hands stilling as she considered his question. "It’s not that I doubt myself," she said softly. "It’s just… I know there’s so much more I could be doing."

"Hmm?"

"I see your healing magic—it’s so powerful, so… complete—and I can’t help but feel… small, in comparison." She said, her voice thinning out as she went through the sentence.

Lance frowned, his eyes studying her. What she said was true, but it wasn’t a good thought process at all. "Mira, your healing has saved countless. Without you, we wouldn’t be where we are today. Don’t sell yourself short." He said.

She looked at him, her emerald eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. "I want to be more, Lance. I want to be a, legendary healer, useful, to help as much as I can. Seeing you use your magic inspires me. It shows me what’s possible… Even though it makes me feel insufficient sometimes, it inspires me more than not."

Lance smiled, his expression warm as he wrapped his hands around her. "Then you will be. If anyone can become a legendary healer, it’s you."

Mira’s cheeks flushed again, but this time she didn’t look away. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Lance said, his voice firm. "You have the skill, the heart, and the determination. And you’re not alone in this, you have the tribe, and you have me."

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Her lips curved into a shy smile, and she pressed against Lance, her fingers brushing against his chest softly. "Thank you, Lance. You’re always so good to me," Mira said softly, her emerald eyes shining as they met his.

Lance’s gaze softened. "You’re important to me, Mira. You’ve always been."

Her breath hitched slightly, "you’re important to me too, Lance. More than I can… put into words."

…

Well, more often than not, words can go a long way, but more than that, actions back them up. Also, he had checked to see that there was no on who was critically injured, so there was no major emergency.

Mira moved among the injured, her hands glowing softly as she healed burns and closed deep gashes. Lia joined her, casting rejuvenating spells that eased the warriors’ pain.

’Maybe I should help now before she passes out from exhaustion.’

…

Later that night, as the camp settled into an uneasy calm, Lance walked among the goblins, stopping to speak with the warriors and offer words of encouragement. He could see the pride in their eyes, mingled with exhaustion.

"We couldn’t have done this without you, Chief," one warrior said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Lance shook his head. "You fought for your home, for your tribe. That’s what really won this battle."

As he moved through the camp, he felt a surge of pride and humility. The goblins had grown so much since he first arrived—stronger, braver, and more united than ever.

’Heh… it’s a wonder what simple human politics can achieve here. It almost feels guilty to receive those remarks.’

Near the edge of the camp, Lance found Rynne standing alone, her spear resting against a tree. She turned as he approached, her golden eyes softening.

"You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world," she said.

"Sometimes it feels like I am," Lance admitted with a faint smile.

Rynne smirked, crossing her arms. "Well, you did good, Lance. Better than good."

"Thanks, Rynne," he said.

"A victory like this calls for celebration, hope you’re ready?" She asked, a small smirk on her lips.

Returning the smile, Lance drew her in unexpectedly, wrapping a hand around her waist and closing the distance between them. "MM?" She let out in surprise, but her expression lowly softened as Lance planted a soft kiss on her lips, drawing her in as both passed the moment in bliss.

"You still reek of blood." Lance said as they separated.

"We should wash ourselves before the night ends."

"We should."