English
Indonesia
Chinese (Simp)
Japanese
Korean
Spanish
Portuguese
French
German
ArabicArknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 43
Chapter 43: Special Blood-Nourishing Brown Sugar, Take One
In the blink of an eye, a full week had slipped by since Lucian brought Angelina home.
For him, adding an extra mouth to feed and another pair of chopsticks to the dinner table was hardly an inconvenience. If anything, taking in a girl as endearing as Angelina felt like a massive gain. It gave him the distinct, slightly amusing sensation of being a generous uncle sheltering a runaway high schooler.
But Angelina was a remarkably good kid. She stubbornly insisted on paying her rent through physical labor. Seeing someone so young act with such earnest maturity nearly moved Uncle Lucian to tears.
True to her word, she reported to the kitchen every single day to help out. Having an extra pair of hands during the chaotic cafe rushes proved incredibly convenient. Beyond that… watching Angelina bustle about in a fitted apron provided a deep sense of nourishment for a man’s body and soul.
She was a high school girl, a tender seventeen-year-old in the prime of her youth. Yet here she was, wrapped in an apron, weaving around his workspace and occasionally flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile whenever their eyes met. Angelina was an absolute angel. As far as Lucian was concerned, she ought to be canonized as a saint for the entire world to worship.
The morning rush finally died down, leaving the cafe bathed in the quiet hum of cooling espresso machines. Lucian wiped down the counter and pulled a small tin box from his pocket. “Angelina. Time for your special blood-replenishing sugar. Take one.”
The cute Vulpo girl accepted the small, dark piece of brown sugar candy and popped it into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out instantly, making her look exactly like a foraging squirrel.
“The candy you make is always so sweet, Lucian,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “But it’s a little different from normal sugar. It has this unique richness to it. What exactly is it made of?”
“Trade secret,” Lucian replied with a casual, practiced wave of his hand.
He could hardly tell her the truth. He couldn’t just casually mention that the candy was synthesized from his own blood. As a respectable restaurant owner, Lucian held himself to strict standards of food hygiene. Even knowing his blood possessed miraculous healing properties, if someone handed him a snack and said it was made from human blood, he would be thoroughly disgusted. Putting himself in her shoes, keeping the recipe a secret was the only logical choice.
Besides, Lucian himself still didn’t quite understand why his blood tasted sweet in the first place. It wasn’t as if his blood sugar levels were dangerously high.
Putting Lucian’s internal complaints aside, the effects of the candy took hold almost immediately. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across Angelina’s forehead. She lifted her hands, rapidly fanning her flushed, rosy cheeks. “Haff, haff… it’s suddenly so hot in here. Every time I eat your candy, my heart starts beating so fast. Why does it do that?”
Lucian offered her a reassuring thumbs-up. “It promotes healthy blood circulation. It’s strictly for your own good.”
That was, of course, a convenient excuse.
The actual cause of her sudden feverishness was the Originium crystals embedded within her body reacting to the candy. The sugar was actively breaking down the lethal minerals, forcefully transforming them back into healthy, normal human cells. The higher a patient’s infection level, the more violent this biological reaction became. Some heavily infected individuals would feel as though their blood was boiling, left to roll around in bed in a feverish haze. Because everyone living on the harsh world of Terra carried trace amounts of Originium in their systems, even uninfected people would experience a mild reaction. It was entirely a matter of degree.
Since Lucian couldn’t reveal his true identity as a former Holy Son of Laterano just yet, he relied on this excuse to ensure she took her medicine. Eating the candy daily kept the severity of her Oripathy strictly suppressed.
His blood was terrifyingly effective. The deeper the infection ran, the more pronounced the initial healing effect, causing the fusion rate between somatic cells and active Originium to plummet rapidly. However, once the infection was driven back to a certain baseline, the therapeutic efficiency would naturally taper off. If she consumed the candy consistently for a year or two, her Oripathy would eventually be entirely cured.
There were more aggressive, instantaneous methods he could employ to purge the disease all at once. But those methods were far too extreme for a fragile girl like Angelina. Lucian wasn’t nearly sadistic enough to put her through that kind of agony. For now, a slow and steady recovery was the best path forward.
Lucian finished tidying up his station and turned to Angelina, who had just untied her apron. “Leave the rest of the cleanup to Croissant. Let’s head out for your training.”
“Yes! Teacher Lucian!” Angelina cheered, clenching her small fists with spirited determination. Her bright eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Lucian had no intention of keeping her confined to the back kitchen forever. He had taken the time to ask about her personal goals, and her greatest wish was to continue working as a messenger. Since Penguin Logistics frequently accepted standard transportation and courier contracts, her unique abilities would be a massive asset. Lucian was naturally thrilled to support her ambitions. To that end, he was personally helping her practice her Originium Arts, ensuring she gained precise control over her volatile powers.
He led the way, with Angelina following closely on his heels, handling the winding, chaotic streets of Lungmen until they crossed into the Slums. They weaved through a maze of dilapidated apartment blocks until they arrived at a sprawling, makeshift training ground.
Angelina gasped softly, her fox ears twitching in awe. “Every time we come here, I can’t help but think how amazing this is. This entire training ground was built by hand by the people living in the Slums, right? It’s really incredible!”
“It’s not quite that exaggerated,” Lucian said, offering a modest shrug. “The Slums have their own brand of wisdom. If the people here don’t have something they need, they simply build it themselves out of whatever they can find. It’s just how everyone survives.”
Naturally, there were no professional synthetic tracks or manicured lawns in this impoverished district. But adhering to the gritty philosophy of creating something out of absolutely nothing, the locals had drawn running tracks in the dirt with crushed chalk. They had welded rusted water pipes together to form goalposts, and stacked discarded tires into towering castles, effectively establishing a sprawling children’s paradise.
The most restless demographic in the Slums were the young children who weren’t yet old enough to help their parents work. If they didn’t have a safe place to burn off their energy, they would inevitably fall in with local gangs and pick up habits like petty theft. Nobody wanted to see that happen.
So, back when Lucian was first getting acquainted with the Slums, he had personally constructed this very playground. Exusiai even came down here to play soccer with the local kids on a daily basis. Lucian, however, hadn’t mentioned any of this to Angelina. A true hero never boasted about past glories. She remained completely unaware of his history in the Slums, and he saw no reason to bring it up.
“Take out your staff,” Lucian instructed, shifting his focus back to the lesson.
Angelina reached into her travel bag and retrieved a collapsible staff. With a sharp flick of her wrist, the device extended with a mechanical click, reaching a height that roughly matched her own.
Despite being called a “staff,” this was a far cry from the gnarled wooden wands wielded by mages in classic fantasy novels. It was a highly sophisticated industrial product, forged from durable composite plastics and reinforced with specialized metallic alloys. In the modern era of Terra, as long as an object possessed an internal structure capable of channeling and activating Originium energy, it qualified as a staff. It didn’t matter if it took the form of a sword, a heavy riot shield, or even a piece of tailored clothing. The Guardian Guns favored by the Sankta were essentially just highly specialized staves designed to propel physical bullets through Arts.
Lucian rarely interacted with standard caster equipment, so he found himself genuinely curious as he inspected her weapon. “Staves on the market these days are quite high-tech, aren’t they? Did you buy this yourself?”
“Yes!” Angelina nodded, her fluffy tail swaying happily behind her. “This was actually a birthday present from my parents, back before I became Infected. In Siracusa, standard Originium products aren’t heavily regulated by the government, so ordinary citizens can purchase them freely. But I didn’t seem to have much talent for it back then. I practiced for a long time and couldn’t activate a single Originium Art.”
She paused, her fingers gently tracing the smooth casing of the staff. “But then, after I contracted Oripathy, I suddenly found I could use it… I suppose that’s a stroke of good luck in its own way, mm!”
Angelina smiled, her expression impossibly sweet and pure, devoid of any lingering bitterness.
Originium Arts were not an exclusive privilege of the Infected. Ordinary, healthy people could also cast Arts by channeling their energy through a properly calibrated staff. However, doing so required a tremendous amount of innate talent. Some individuals could spend their entire lives trying and failing to spark even the simplest Art—which, considering the dangers of Originium, was often a blessing in disguise.
Angelina had been exactly like that before her diagnosis. Yet, after the cruel twist of fate that made her an Infected, her latent Originium Arts had violently blossomed. The very staff she had once been completely unable to use had suddenly become an extension of her own body. It was a deeply ironic reality, but looking at her bright, resilient smile, Lucian knew she was going to be just fine.