From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra-Chapter 41: Hands

Charles leaned back on the medical area’s bed, the taste of chocolate ice cream lingering in his mouth, crumbs from the crisp roll dusting his fingers.

He’d just explained to Lira, as vaguely as possible, how he’d passed his lightning off as fire, and she looked at him with a mix of disbelief and admiration.

"I’ll give you points for creativity, Rian," Lira said, crossing her arms. "You got everyone to buy it was fire. That’s... impressive, for someone just starting out. But don’t let it go to your head just because you won all those fights."

Her tone turned serious.

"A Master or Grand Master could notice it’s not fire. You’ve gotta be more careful."

Charles laughed, making an exaggerated gesture with his bandaged hands, like a cheap play’s villain.

"Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got it covered," he said, with a wicked grin. "I’ll convince everyone my power’s some ultra-rare fire variant. Explosive fire! No one’ll doubt me!"

Lira raised an eyebrow, swallowing hard.

’This idiot’s way too cocky,’ she thought.

But lacking a solid counterargument, she let it slide for now.

"If you say you can handle it..." she muttered, shaking her head.

Then, softer, she added, "But seriously, Rian, I’m not sure you’ll recover in time for tomorrow’s fight. Your power relies heavily on your hands, and from what I heard from the doctors, it’s a miracle they’re working again."

Charles frowned, eyeing his bandaged hands.

"A miracle?" he asked, a hint of worry creeping in. "How bad were they? And... how long do they say I need to rest?"

Lira sighed, standing and peeking out the door.

"Nurse!" she shouted, her tone commanding.

A young nurse appeared almost instantly, looking nervous.

"Tell the doctor to come as fast as he can," Lira ordered.

"Understood!"

The nurse nodded and scurried off, leaving the room in awkward silence.

Charles seized the moment to grab the last piece of roll, taking a slow bite.

Lira watched, arms crossed.

"That really filled you up?" she asked, her tone half-mocking, half-curious.

Charles laughed, wiping crumbs from his mouth.

"Nah, I’m still starving," he said, shrugging. "But the food here’s solid. This roll... it’s like someone poured their soul into baking it."

"You say that because you’ve gone days without decent food," Lira said dryly. "This is second-rate stuff."

Charles raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming.

"So you’ll cook for me again?" he asked, leaning forward. "’Cause, if I remember right, your food wasn’t half bad."

Lira let out a short, surprised laugh at his audacity.

"If you insist that much, I could bring you a real dish," she said, her tone seeming serious but laced with sarcasm. "Something that’d make this roll look like trash."

Charles blinked, trying to gauge if she meant it.

"Was that sarcasm, or are you actually doing it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lira smiled, a playful glint in her eyes.

"I mean it," she said, shrugging. "The food here’s garbage. If you want something good, I’ll have to cook it myself."

Before Charles could reply, the door opened, and a doctor entered—a gray-haired man in a white tunic with a short beard.

"Miss Lira, Mr. Rian," he said, bowing slightly with respect. "Good to see you both. How can I assist?"

Lira pointed at Charles.

"Explain to Rian, in detail, how his hands are," she said, her tone leaving no room for debate. "And what he needs to recover."

The doctor nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"Of course," he said, approaching Charles’s bed. "Mr. Rian, your hands suffered severe damage from the explosions you caused during the duels. The burns were deep, reaching muscle in some areas. There was necrotic tissue, and the nerves were heavily compromised. In a standard hospital outside the clan, you’d likely have lost the use of both hands."

Charles swallowed, staring at his bandages.

"Was I really that close to losing my hands?" he asked, voice low.

The doctor smiled, a touch of pride in his expression.

"In a less advanced place, yes," he said. "But here in the Storm Clan, we combine traditional medicine with elemental techniques. We used a special balm, infused with healing water energy, to regenerate damaged tissue. Then, a skilled surgeon, aided by a Wind Master, performed an operation to reconnect the nerves. The wind allowed precise tissue manipulation without further damage. Finally, we applied a seal, crafted by a Grand Master, to speed up bone and muscle recovery."

Charles blinked, awestruck.

"You did all that while I was out?" he asked, looking at his hands like they were a miracle. "Sounds... like magic."

The doctor chuckled, shaking his head.

"Not magic, Mr. Rian, it’s clan science," he said. "And, of course, the generous support of Mr. Kraus Cole, which gives us the resources we need."

Lira sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I’ll talk to my father about boosting your budget a bit," she said, resigned. "But don’t get used to it."

The doctor bowed, grateful.

"You’re too kind, Miss Lira," he said. He turned to Charles. "How do you feel now? Can you move your hands without pain?"

Charles raised his hands, flexing his fingers carefully.

"I can move them pretty well," he said, smiling. "Hurts a little, but nothing like before. Thanks, really. You guys did an amazing job."

The doctor nodded, pleased.

"Good to hear," he said. "But I recommend resting at least two weeks before using your power again. Your hands are functional, but the tissue’s still healing. Overexerting them could delay recovery or cause permanent damage."

Charles frowned, glancing at Lira.

"Two weeks...?" he repeated. "What about tomorrow’s duel?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"I wouldn’t advise fighting so soon," he said firmly. "Your hands aren’t ready for that kind of strain."

Before Charles could respond, a thunderclap rumbled outside, rattling the window.

Lira clicked her tongue, glancing at Charles sideways.

"It hasn’t stopped raining or lightning for these four days..." she said, annoyed.

The doctor laughed, adjusting his glasses.

"The weather’s been unusual, yes," he said. "The training fields are flooded, and the east sector warehouses have leaks. Water and wind users are working nonstop to manage the rain. We hope it’ll clear soon."

Lira sighed, rubbing her temples.

"The excess water’s a pain," she said. "We’re already looking at reinforcing the facilities to handle it better. But it’s a headache."

The doctor bowed.

"I understand," he said. "If you need me, I’ll be in the main hall."

He left with a respectful nod, leaving Lira and Charles alone.

Lira stood, giving Charles a stern look.

"I’m cooking you something decent," she said, her tone final. "But for today, rest. Don’t do anything stupid, got it?"

Charles grinned, sinking into the pillow.

"I’ll think about it," he said playfully.

Truth was, for some reason, Charles enjoyed riling Lira up.

Lira sighed, shaking her head.

"See you..." she said, heading out.