NOVEL NEXT Chapter 522: Fear and Hope
"Because I want to."
Arthur's simple response made Lisa genuinely question the sanity of the person standing before her.
Giving away rare-ranked equipment worth tens of thousands of dollars simply because you felt like it wasn't a logical response by any reasonable measure.
Yet here she was, staring at items that could transform her entire existence.
Her mind raced through possibilities—was this some elaborate test?
A cruel joke that would be revealed once she showed gratitude?
But the equipment felt real in her trembling hands, solid and warm with magical energy that made her fingertips tingle.
Lisa accepted the items with cautious reverence, handling each piece as if it might dissolve if she gripped too tightly.
"Can I wear them now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Arthur nodded his head and gestured for her to proceed.
The centerpiece of the equipment set was a beautifully crafted bow. Arthur had determined that someone with her limited power and physical weakness would be better served attacking from distance rather than engaging in close combat.
Her talent provided no enhancement for melee confrontation, making ranged combat her only viable path to meaningful strength.
Arthur knew that this woman wouldn't make it far in her journey toward real power.
Her talent was too weak, her starting point too disadvantaged, and her psychological state too damaged by recent trauma. But he had decided to help her anyway, recognizing her attempt to protect Charlotte and warn him during Donald's operation.
She had wanted to help when she could have simply stayed silent and avoided complications.
He had given her powerful equipment and, though unspoken, an opportunity to join his guild which could become her safe haven from the predators who viewed her as prey.
With the bow in her hands, Lisa examined it with growing amazement. The weapon's magical properties were immediately apparent, she could feel how it would enhance her aim and stabilize her shots in ways that would make her effective despite her inexperience.
"This bow helps its wielder aim much better," she breathed with wonder. "This is so powerful."
Arthur nodded with quiet satisfaction at her appreciation for the gift.
Lisa then remembered her manners and bowed deeply. "Thank you. May I ask... what happened to the people outside? I heard screaming earlier.
Arthur dismissed the inquiry with casual indifference. "Just a few arrogant people. They were taught a lesson."
Lisa nodded, accepting his explanation without pressing for details. But then her mind returned to the person who had made her life a nightmare, and her expression grew conflicted.
"May... I... I..." she struggled with her words, internal conflict visible in every hesitation.
The request fighting to emerge contradicted everything she had been taught about her role as a healer, as someone whose profession was dedicated to preserving life rather than ending it.
Yet there was someone she truly wanted dead—someone who had stripped away her dignity, her agency, and her hope through systematic abuse.
"Calm down, take a deep breath before speaking," Arthur said with gentle patience.
Lisa inhaled shakily, her hands clenching around the bow as she gathered courage to voice what felt like betraying her core identity.
"I... want to kill someone. Would you let me?"
The words hung in the air like a confession, carrying suppressed rage, helplessness, and the desperate desire for justice that her weakness had taught her to suppress. Her eyes filled with tears—not of sadness, but of shame at wanting something so badly that went against everything she thought she believed about herself.
As a nurse, she had taken oaths to preserve life, to heal rather than harm. She had spent her career helping people recover from their worst moments. But her abuser had destroyed her faith in the goodness of humanity, replacing it with cold understanding that some people only understood violence.
The internal war between her professional identity and her desperate need for agency over her own fate was tearing her apart.
Arthur didn't need to ask who she meant—the answer was obvious. Without flinching, he
replied with matter-of-fact directness.
"If you are able to do so, then go ahead."
The permission struck Lisa like a physical blow. Someone was telling her that her desire for justice wasn't wrong, that protecting herself from future harm wasn't evil, that wanting to ensure her abuser never hurt another woman wasn't a betrayal of her morals.
Her tears came harder now, but they carried relief alongside the grief for the innocence she had already lost. Arthur wasn't judging her for wanting to survive in a world that had shown her no mercy.
For the first time in the past two days, Lisa felt something other than helpless fear. She felt the possibility of reclaiming control over her own life, even if it meant becoming someone she had never imagined she could be.
Lisa steeled herself, her hands trembling as she gripped the bow Arthur had given her. The weight of the weapon felt foreign in her nurse's hands—hands that had been trained to heal, to comfort, to preserve life. But those same hands now carried the possibility of inflicting damage that went beyond repair.
She made her way toward the stairs, each step a conscious choice between who she had been and who survival demanded she become. The bow's magical enhancement hummed against her palm, as if responding to her resolve.
Arthur followed her with a calm expression and hands in pockets, interested in whether she would truly follow her words or not.
The main hall fell silent as Lisa descended, her presence immediately drawing every eye in the shelter. The survivors who had witnessed Arthur's earlier demonstration now watched with growing comprehension as they recognised that Arthur had taken Lisa as an ally from the equipment she carried and understood what her return might signify.
Her former captor looked up from where he sat nursing his wounded pride, his expression shifting from sullen anger to genuine alarm as he registered the bow in her hands and the cold determination in her eyes.