The Max Level Hero Has Returned!-Chapter 980. End the War, It’s a Nuisance

As soon as Davey arrived in Atrellia, he headed to the nearest city.

Arthem was a mid-sized city with a staggering population of two hundred thousand.

Though it might seem small for a city, when considering the total population of Atrellia, it was actually quite significant.

“Earth really is overflowing with people. For its population to exceed six billion, the most important factors must’ve been...”

The guarantee of a safe life.

And the absence of major threats.

In that sense, Earth’s population was exceptionally high.

Of course, the population wasn’t particularly important to Davey. He was more interested in the general atmosphere of the city.

At a glance, it was clear this wasn’t a place of pure peace.

“Welcome to Arthem. We hope you have a pleasant visit.”

The inside of the city was visibly well-maintained. Its paved roads were clean, and the overall quality of life seemed high for a magic-driven city.

At its center stood two enormous twin towers, surrounded by countless buildings. Strange floating objects hovered periodically in the sky, drifting over the entire city.

“They’ve applied their magic much more efficiently than Tionis.”

‘Though the mana here feels similar, or perhaps even less abundant than Tionis.’

As expected of a continent that had abandoned swordsmanship in favor of magic, everything here operated by magic, through magic, and for magic.

“In Atrellia, seventy percent of the population are mages.”

“What about the remaining thirty percent?”

“Just regular humans.”

And this happened to be an issue in Atrellia for a long time.

“Regular humans, huh?”

“A long time ago, Atrellia was a monarchy. Back then, they didn’t even treat that thirty percent as true humans. It was a dark age.”

Odin had once dreamed of a world where even that thirty percent could be accepted.

Her goal had been to dismantle a caste system built entirely around natural talent.

Through that struggle, she’d endured countless trials and ultimately become a hero.

“There it is,” he said as he walked toward a building where mages were coming and going.

“Davey, once we get the medicinal herbs and stabilize your body, then what?”

“What else? If we find out where Odin ran off to, I’ll track her down and end this. If I spot Hovana along the way, I’ll capture her and use her as a ride.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Perserque erased her usual playful smile and perched sternly on his shoulder.

“Odin. Are you going to kill her?”

‘Kill her...’

It wasn’t impossible.

The fact that she had manifested was already an anomaly, which meant there could be differences between her current self and her true form. If Davey could find and exploit a gap in her defenses, there was a way to defeat her.

But Perserque was asking whether he could kill her or not.

He had said things like disgusting and absolutely sickening from time to time when describing them, but Odin knew exactly how he felt about the heroes of the hall.

“I don’t know what kind of promise she made that led to all of this, but I’m certain of how I’ll handle it.”

A long time ago, Odin had made a promise to herself. That promise was likely now binding her.

It seemed foolish, but to her, it must’ve been something of immense importance.

Which left Davey with only one option.

He had to find the remnants of that promise and either devour it, cut it with Super Ribbon, or awaken remnants of taboo to destroy it.

There was no other way, and he knew all too well that it wouldn’t be easy.

The scent of medicinal herbs filled the air. There were also a lot of people wrapped in bandages from head to toe, groaning in pain.

“Welcome. Are you here for a consultation?”

Atrellia had made little progress in the field of holy magic. Or rather, it was more accurate to say that there were almost no priests there at all.

Because of that, the people of the land had no choice but to develop alternative magic for healing or even dedicate themselves entirely to medical science.

“I’d like to buy some pola herb leaves.”

The clerk behind the counter gave Davey a puzzled look at his request.

“Pola herb leaves? We do have them, but... What exactly do you need them for?”

“They’re for a remedy.”

“A remedy? Pola leaves are usually used for alchemy purposes, and they don’t have any medicinal properties for humans. If you could tell me the symptoms, maybe I can suggest something more effective?”

“Can’t you just give them to me?”

At his blunt response, the clerk hesitated and made a face of uncertainty.

“Alright. How much do you need?”

Davey reached into his pocket. He didn’t have any Atrellian currency, but he did have something valuable he could offer in exchange—

“How much will this get me?”

“My goodness!”

What he handed over wasn’t ordinary money—it was a magic stone. It wasn’t a regular mana stone; it was a pure crystal formed by the compression of hundreds of mana stones into a cohesive whole.

The one in his hand was one of the many cores embedded in the Decepticon Fleet golems—a treasure that was capable of storing an amount of power incomparably greater than regular mana stones.

No matter how advanced Atrellia was in magic, a magic stone of such quality was bound to be exceedingly rare.

“P-Please wait a moment! If this really is a magic stone—!”

As soon as the words magic stone left her lips, every mage in the vicinity—except for the wounded patients—immediately snapped their heads toward Davey. One patient did turn their head, but the only snap came from their fragile spine as they fell back to the bed.

The place was indeed a medical facility, but judging by the rugged-looking mages scattered around, it seemed to function as a guild of sorts as well.

“My goodness. This is a genuine magic stone! And so high-grade! I’m terribly sorry, but our branch doesn’t have the funds to properly give you change for something of this value...”

“Then just give me the pola leaves I asked for. And while you’re at it, do you have any paper for sale?”

The clerk’s eyes widened slightly before she quickly handed him a sheet of paper. Taking a nearby quill, Davey swiftly scribbled something onto it.

“This should do the trick.”

“T-This still isn’t enough to avoid more change than we can afford.”

“Forget the change.”

It was a shame to give the magic stone away for so little, but this was the most efficient way, as its value was already known. If he tried to offer gems instead, it would take far too long to get them properly appraised.

Besides, unlike before, magic stones were something Davey could produce through certain methods, so there was no real loss.

“Then... Understood.”

Just as the clerk turned around to fetch the requested items—

“Hey, you.”

A deep voice cut through the air.

“Where’d a fancy young master like you come from? Hah? And look at that, you’ve even got a sword strapped to your waist? What, trying to look tough and all?”

A massive man approached and reached for the scabbard at Davey’s waist, attempting to snatch it.

The laughter rippling through the surrounding crowd made one thing clear—nobody was going to step in.

And just as the man tried to yank Red Ribbon—

“Hmph?!”

His body tensed, and he stopped on the spot.

“Hey.”

Davey then turned around, locking his gaze onto the man.

“Let go.”

The burly man, still bent forward in his attempt to grab Red Ribbon, looked at Davey with a blank face.

The air grew tense, as if a fight was about to happen.

The reason he couldn’t lift the scabbard was obvious—Red Ribbon would never allow herself to be touched by a stranger, not even an innocent child, which this burly man surely was not.

The man, still hunched over, struggled to move. It wasn’t that he had suddenly gotten weaker—it was simply that Red Ribbon felt impossibly heavy.

And then he collapsed.

Thud.

His legs buckled, sending him crashing to the floor.

Clang! Clang, clang!

Within an instant, several people had already unsheathed their swords.

But before they could even properly brandish them, a crushing force weighed down upon every single one of them. The mana around them was jammed, and they crumpled to the ground.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a place for treating patients?”

His voice was calm and even, yet it was as eerie as it could get.

“You shouldn’t be causing a scene in a place like this. Hey. Lady! Hurry up and give me my stuff. I don’t have all day.”

Snapped back to reality, and running like there was no gravity to hold her back, the clerk flinched and rushed to the storage room.

The air was suffocating.

There was no spellcasting with no visible flow of mana.

Everyone present was utterly crushed by an unseen force.

The men holding swords were all part of the thirty percent minority of Atrellia who couldn’t become mages.

In other words, they were the outcasts.

Even so, they still had traces of mana within them, though it had been completely dominated by Davey.

“H-Here they are!!”

The counter clerk hurriedly returned, lugging a large wooden box before Davey.

“I’ve packed all the necessary herbs and materials!”

Her breathless tone indicated her fear that if she delayed any further, something terrible would happen.

Davey took the box, then casually tossed it into the air.

Crack!!

The space where the box went flying shattered like glass, swallowing the package into nothingness.

“Another silent casting...”

Those in the room gasped in disbelief. Ignoring them, Davey turned to leave the guild.

No one tried to stop him; most of them were still too stunned to process what had just happened.

But then—

Thud!

The doors burst open.

“Emergency patient incoming!! He was attacked by the Peacekeeper Force!! We need a medic! A medic and a pharmacist!!”

Davey turned his head at the panicked shouts. A man, his body covered in deep, gruesome wounds, was laying on a stretcher.

The injuries were severe—far beyond what simple first aid could fix.

“My goodness...”

“Leader!!”

The surrounding men rushed to the injured man’s side with faces full of horror.

“Dammit! Who the hell did this?!”

“I told you! The Peacekeeper Force did this! If we don’t treat him right now, he’s not going to make it!!”

As the frantic voices filled the room, Perserque quietly spoke.

“Davey?”

“...”

He knew there were plenty of people here who could treat the man. He also didn’t have the time to waste on unnecessary commotion—after all, he had to find Odin as soon as possible.

“F-Foam?! Damn it! Start emergency treatment now!!”

“It’s no use! It’s too late! He was stabbed by a demonic sword—we can’t save him!”

“Please!! Doctor! You have to save him! Without him, this city won’t last!”

The same men who had looked like common thugs moments ago were now desperately clinging to the doctors, begging for help.

But the moment the physicians examined the man who seemed to be their leader, silence fell over the room.

“This... I can’t treat this. Not with my skills. And not with the equipment we have here.”

One of the doctors lowered his head in despair.

Davey then side-eyed the group and let out a sigh.

“This is why one shouldn’t make promises so easily.”

Judging by their reaction, he assumed they were probably part of the same group that had tried to mess with him earlier.

And yet, considering the man was a patient needing help, Davey was going to step in.

‘Can’t believe I’m doing this.’

“Move.”

Reaching into his Pocket Plane, Davey retrieved the box he had stored earlier and pulled out a few herbs and Pola leaves.

Then, he turned to the clerk at the counter.

“Bring me some paper.”

“You... What are you...?”

“No talking. Get moving.”

His voice was calm, but the chilling edge to it made the woman scramble.

She quickly brought over a sheet of paper, and Davey swiftly scribbled something in Atrellian script before handing it back to her.

“Ten minutes. Any longer and he dies.”

“W-What kind of mixture is this...?”

“What are you waiting for? You’re just going to stand there and let him die?”

Coming back to her senses, she hurried off.

He then pressed one hand lightly against the fallen man’s chest before pulling a needle case out from his Pocket Plane.

“If I had proper medicine, this wouldn’t be so complicated.”

Thunk!

Without hesitation, he jabbed the needles into key points of the man’s body—the prefrontal cortex, the side of the neck, the lungs, and the liver.

The surrounding men recoiled in horror.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Several of them lunged forward to stop Davey, but—

“Wait!!”

The man who had tried to steal Red Ribbon earlier—the same one who had previously collapsed—stopped the crowd.

“C-Can you save him?”

“I don’t bother treating people who are beyond saving.”

That is to say, he wouldn’t waste his efforts on the dead.

“Cough!!”

“I’m sorry Perserque, but could you get rid of the foam?”

She then leaped from his shoulder and expanded into her true form, reaching out a hand toward the patient’s face.

A faint light shimmered around her hand as she reached for the man's mouth and quickly removed the foam.

Meanwhile, Davey continued his precise needling, inserting and removing the needles in various places.

The injuries were severe, but they weren’t the real problem.

The real problem was the strange mana waves that had spread through his body, almost as if he had been poisoned.

‘A demonic sword, huh?’

Davey noticed that the poison-like mana in the sword had churned his system.

He continued to needle the man.

After several precise strikes, his body began to go through changes. The black tendrils that were spread like roots beneath the man’s skin began to fade.

“No way...”

“He was hit by a demonic sword, so how is this happening?”

The onlookers were speechless, while Davey outright ignored them.

‘What an unlucky day.’

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“Cough!!”

At last, the man’s breathing steadied.

Just in time, the clerk returned, carrying a bowl of crushed herbs that had been carefully mixed according to his instructions.

“This is just a temporary fix. Boil the rest exactly as I wrote on the paper, and give him two doses a day—one at noon and one at ten in the evening.”

The man inhaled deeply, then exhaled for some time.

As the man came back to his steady self, the other man who had been anxiously restless finally slumped to the floor in relief.

Still looking uneasy, he hesitated before asking, “Is... Is he alive?”

“If he takes the medicine as prescribed, he’ll be back on his feet in four days. It’s not because of a demonic sword—it’s some kind of curse. Those aren’t so easy to dispel with magic alone.”

Curses were magic containing unique properties.

Fortunately, the nature of the curse made it possible to counteract it with medical treatment instead.

That was all there was to it.

“Huh? That guy wasn’t supposed to survive.”

A new voice cut through the room.

Everyone turned to the entrance.

A tall man strode inside, draped in a jet-black robe embroidered with gold.

Not even Davey couldn’t tell who the man was. It was because his face was concealed by a mask covering half of his face—a pristine white with strange gemstones.

“He violated Article 7 of the Kingdom’s Law—he’s a high criminal. Keeping him alive is a problem.”

The masked man said to Davey.

“This patient requires absolute rest,” Davey said flatly, not even bothering to look up as he applied the medicinal herbs to the man's wounds. “Take your nonsense somewhere else.”

The man smirked in response.

It was the kind of smile one would expect from a sadist who was about to show their inner self.