Count's Youngest Son is a Warlock// novel translation

Chapter 237

Lucion ran, then stopped.

The darkness was empty, unable to maintain its bond with Bethel, and it broke free.

But Lucion screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Cut...!"

The red thread that connected him to Heint was severed.

How long he had waited.

How desperately he had hoped for this day to come.

He could hardly contain the surge of joy.

But the joy was short-lived, and Hume quickly caught Lucion, who was about to collapse from the overwhelming dizziness.

-Lucion. Lucion.

Latta burst into tears, stepping out of the shadows and clutching the hem of Lucion's robe.

"...Do, Master."

Hume stammered, carefully removing the mask.

"I apologize, sir. I... I'm sorry I wasn't more helpful."

At the sight of Lucion's blood and the wounds on his body, Hume couldn't keep the tears from falling.

Why was he so weak to corruption.

How could he resent this body so much?

"...Ugh."

Lucion stopped moving and groaned, his nose dripping with blood.

[Stay still. Stay still.]

Russell pushed Lucion down and gave him a pained look.

[Hume. Come on, let's use the sunbeam].

"Yes. I'll use the sunbeam."

Hume nodded at the impatience in Bethel's voice.

He gently laid Lucion down and looked at Heint, who approached him.

Hume looked at him, too.

Heint opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to fall to his knees at once.

"Are you... Hume?"

"Yes, Mr. Heint."

"...Lucion."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I must ask you to help me for a moment, to heal the Master."

At Hume's urging, Heint went to the corner and held the light up to Lucion.

"Thank you."

Hume bowed, then rushed over and used the sunbeam on Lucion.

The light filtered down to pure regenerative power and fell on Lucion's body.

Hume watched as Lucion's wounds healed.

Still.

Lucion's eyes fluttered open and he saw Heint.

Immediately, fear rose to the base of his throat.

But he pulled himself up, turned to face Heint, and spoke.

"...I'm sorry, brother."

For a moment, Heint's face contorted.

As soon as he heard Lucion's sincere apology, all the things he had doubted, all the things he hadn't trusted, all the things he had tried to kill Hamel for being a warlock, came crashing down on him in waves.

Lucion's bloodless face was pale, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, the cuts from Hothram's attack and the tattered branches of his clothes trampled in the snow.