"You?! Beating the captain?! Not in a thousand years!"
The Medicus held his stomach, unable to hold his laughter any longer while totally ignoring Spes next to him. He even almost used up all his breath, leaving him huffing for air.
"Haaa... damn... that sobered me up..."
The old man had to take back his drink, his face immediately soothed after one big gulp. As he sighed in satisfaction, he noticed that the boy was still standing in front of him.
"What are you still doing here, brat?" he grumbled, annoyed that he couldn't have some time alone with his drink.
The Medicus made Spes have an ugly expression on his face—a face that looked unwilling to stay another moment in the alcohol-reeking tent.
Still, despite his conflicted feelings and the mockery thrown right at his face, Spes's feet were still rooted strongly to the ground, refusing to budge another inch.
"I-I'm serious... I want to defeat the captain."
The Medicus raised his head and locked eyes with the young man. Staring back were eyes like the starry night itself: dark as black, with stars shining ever so bright.
"Give up on the fight, kid, she's WAAYY out of your league."
"You bear the crest of the Inquisition, you surely know something, anything... please!"
The old man's brows deepened upon the Inquisition being mentioned. He glanced at the so-called crest on his robe and hatefully scowled at it.
"Tch... the Inquisition... Get the hell out of here!" the old man loudly grumbled at Spes as he raised his drink back to his mouth, finishing everything in one go.
"…"
Spes didn't know what to say. He had clearly somehow brought out words that offended the Medicus so much that it shut him away. The young man could only sigh while turning towards the exit, his shoulders drooped down in defeat.
As for the old man, his head had turned towards the floor, the scorn on his face still lasting strong.
Strangely, the deep wrinkles on his face would somehow untense as his eyes stumbled on the silver bracelet on his wrist.
Raising his head, in front of him was the sad figure of Spes slowly leaving his tent. The old man closed his eyes and deeply sighed as he opened his mouth: "Wait, brat..."
Spes paused, hearing the Medicus's old, tired voice. The old man's next words would remove every hint of negativity he felt.
"Have a seat..."
As expected, Spes's lips curled up and his eyes brightened. He immediately rushed to the mentioned seat with the same enthusiasm.
Seeing the young man take a seat, the Medicus set aside his empty drink and joined his hands together. For the first time ever, the old man was looking seriously at Spes.
"So... you wanna beat Crystal, huh? Why?"
"To prove to myself that I'm not weak," Spes answered honestly. He truly needed information to advance his training with Vota—a training that was supposed to make him strong.
"Weak? I also can't beat her; that doesn't mean that I'm weak. Strength is being goddamn good at what you do. I'm strong because I excel in my field."
"The same goes for those surnamed Silvermane monsters!" the old man added, as a trace of fear flashed through his eyes when he spoke the name.
Spes completely acknowledged the old man's words. There was but one problem that didn't work out for the youngster.
"I-I'm not good at anything, mister Medicus..." Spes said, clearly embarrassed while scratching his head.
"Well, that's something you're already good at!" The old man laughed loudly as he cracked his joke.
The Medicus turned towards Spes, expecting him to laugh along, but instead was greeted with silence. Spes had his head drooped down, his mind engulfed by thoughts of how useless he was.
The old man internally raged, seeing that he had somehow managed to make the young man in front of him sad again. He finally decided to stop with his jokes and directly went to the point.
"Look, kid... the captain might be strong, but she's only human. During our campaigns, most of her injuries would be from extended fights."
The young Spes raised his head, his eyes back to their usual brightness after hearing useful information for the first time. A light that was but momentary as he realized something.
"But she fought against me for an entire hour before and didn't even break a sweat," Spes said, confused.
"During that hour, how long would each fight last?" the old man asked back, a slight grin on his face.
"Just a few seconds..." Spes answered, his eyes wide in realization. His fights with the captain had never been considered as extended, as she would finish him off within seconds. And she could do so for an entire hour because she could easily catch her breath whenever he was down.
The Medicus nodded approvingly, seeing that Spes finally understood. He smiled warmly, seeing the light back in the young man. The old man then raised an eyebrow as he realized that he did not know the youngster's name.
He was, of course, briefed on everyone's information before the trip, but his work was simply curing whoever was hurt. He did not care about anyone's names. But this time was different, so he decided to ask the young man: "What's your name, brat?"
"Spes."
The old man nodded, as if visually saying, "That's a nice name."
After making sure he remembered it, he took another drink and took one big sip before turning to Spes.
"Now get the hell out of here, Spes!" he shouted, this time his tone less oppressive than before.
And again, the young man didn't leave. Instead, he stood there motionlessly while weirdly scratching his head. He still obviously had something to say.
"W-What's your name, sir?"
The old man chuckled, not expecting the question. He took a sip from his drink before answering the curious Spes: "Medicus... just call me Medicus you damn brat."