The treatment had finally settled as the morning light of the Old Continent began to faintly tint the overcast sky. Lilia remained bent forward, both hands resting on her knees. The fingertips that had been trembling moments ago now lay still upon her lap. A quiet exhaustion—the kind that comes from depleting one's healing magic entirely—emanated from the silver-haired girl. Not tired, exactly, but drained of power. Raid rose slowly from his kneeling position. A dull heat lingered across his back. The wound wasn't completely closed yet. But it wasn't bad enough to prevent movement. (So this is what the morning here is like.) The air of the Old Continent was cold deep in his lungs. Without the high-density atmospheric mana that had permeated the Demon Continent, his body felt oddly light and heavy at once—a strange sensation. The fact of his return was gradually settling into his body. Aira stood motionless, her gaze sweeping once around the three of them. Her lustrous reddish-brow