From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra-Chapter 40: How Many Days Did I Lose?

In the Storm Clan’s medical area, the head nurse, a middle-aged woman with her hair in a tight bun, reviewed records with a furrowed brow.

When she read that Charles—or rather, Rian Cole—had defeated nine Novices in one day, sending eight to the hospital while ending up in critical condition himself, her eyes widened.

"A Cole..." she muttered, adjusting her glasses.

The weight of his surname and the scale of his feat convinced her to assign him the clan’s best doctors.

"We can’t take risks with him," she told her team, ensuring his hands, wrecked by explosions, got top-tier treatment.

If they failed to treat someone of his caliber, the clan leader would surely cut their research funding without hesitation.

Days flew by. Charles remained unconscious, hands wrapped in thick bandages, body hooked to fluids keeping him stable.

Rumors of his performance spread like wildfire through the clan.

"They say a lightning bolt helped him win," a servant whispered in the halls.

"He’s a Cole, what’d you expect?" another replied, mixing envy and admiration.

"How’s that logical just because he’s a Cole? They’ve gotta be exaggerating! No way a lightning bolt helped him," a girl snapped, annoyed.

"But Instructor Isuke and his students saw it. You know that class has over 30 people, right?" another countered.

"It’s gotta be an exaggeration... I won’t believe it till I see it," the girl said, resolute.

But for Lira, the news of Rian’s actions wasn’t cause for celebration.

She was furious.

’Does he not get what keeping a low profile means?’ she thought, clenching her fists as she strode through the clan’s corridors.

Now, with Rian’s rise to Warrior and rumors of a lightning bolt, the whole clan was buzzing about him.

’Idiot,’ she thought, a mix of frustration and curiosity.

The clan would slowly turn its eyes to him and his next move.

If he slipped up in any fight, revealing his true power, they’d kill him for sure, but...

How had he passed his power off as fire?

Lira wanted answers, so she closely monitored his recovery, knowing the duel she’d promised her father was less than a day away.

To ease the pressure, Lira delegated the duel’s responsibility to a friend, a quirky girl rarely seen at the clan’s main headquarters.

Tracking her down was a headache; the friend, known for training in remote areas, didn’t respond to messages until Lira practically hunted her down.

"You can handle those two Masters," Lira told her, her tone brooking no argument. "Uphold my honor and my father’s."

The friend agreed, though her laugh made Lira doubt for a second.

With that settled, Lira felt momentary relief.

’Rian doesn’t have to fight...’ she thought, heading to the medical area to visit him.

When she entered Rian’s room, Lira’s jaw dropped.

There he was, sitting up in bed, bandaged hands moving carefully as he chatted with a young nurse.

In one hand, he held a bowl of chocolate ice cream; in the other, a freshly baked roll. The roll was golden, its crust crisp, flaking into crumbs with each bite, its soft interior smelling of butter and fresh herbs.

Each mouthful seemed to melt, a hint of salt balancing the ice cream’s sweetness.

Charles, with a relaxed smile, took another bite as the nurse giggled at something he’d said.

Lira shot the nurse a glare, and the poor girl let out a nervous laugh.

"Uh... I’ll step out," she said, polite but hurried. "Call if you need anything."

She grabbed an empty tray and left, closing the door behind her.

The room fell quiet, with only the rain tapping the window and the soft crunch of Charles’s roll.

Charles, awake for just minutes, took another spoonful of chocolate ice cream and looked at Lira with a grin.

"Hey, Lira, what’s up?" he asked, carefree, as if he hadn’t been on the brink of never fighting again.

Lira crossed her arms, letting out a sarcastic laugh.

"I’m fine, thanks," she said, her tone sharp. "My hands are intact, and I’ve done my job without issues. Unlike some who, according to rumors, don’t care about losing their hands in a damn duel."

Charles raised his bandaged hands, moving them carefully.

"Feeling better already," he said, with a confident smile, though the motion drew a wince. "Look, I can even hold ice cream."

Lira raised an eyebrow, sitting in a chair by the bed.

"Do you know how long you were out?" she asked, her tone more warning than question.

Charles yawned, scratching his neck.

"A day, right?" he said, shrugging.

Lira stared, eyes narrowed.

"Four days, Rian," she said slowly. "And your duel’s tomorrow."

Charles froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Four... days?" he repeated, blinking. "You’re kidding, right?"

"I’m not kidding," Lira said, crossing her legs. "The duel’s tomorrow. You wanna fight?"

Charles set the bowl on the bedside table, processing.

His mind was a whirlwind.

’Four days!’ he thought, stomach churning. ’And I can barely move my hands.’

But giving up didn’t sit right.

"No choice, huh?" he said, with a weak smile. "If I don’t fight, I’m your servant, right?"

Lira sighed, leaning forward.

"Don’t worry about that," she said, softer. "After what you did—beating nine Novices and becoming Warrior—you can stay a fighter without that duel. It’s not necessary anymore."

Charles blinked, surprised.

"For real?" he asked, frowning.

But then he leaned back on the pillow, a mischievous grin forming.

"Well... I kinda wanna fight anyway."

Lira froze, eyes wide.

"What’d you say?" she asked, her tone almost a threat.

Charles laughed, scratching his neck.

"Just saying it could be a fun fight," he said, shrugging. "Besides, I’m awake now, right? Don’t want folks saying I chickened out."

Lira let out an incredulous laugh, standing.

’Since when does Rian care what people say about him?’ she thought.

"Fun?" she repeated, pointing at him. "You think this is a game? These aren’t Novices, Rian! They’re Masters who’ll tear you apart with that shitty attitude. What’s wrong with you? Did your brain rot while you were out?"

Charles raised his hands in surrender, still laughing.

"Hey, chill," he said playfully. "I’m just saying I wanna try. Besides, I already beat nine guys, right? Maybe I’ll get lucky again."

Lira looked like she wanted to strangle him.

’This idiot never learns...’ she thought, clenching her fists.

But part of her couldn’t help admiring his attitude, infuriating as it was.

"Lucky?" she said, with a bitter laugh. "It wasn’t luck that got you through those duels. It was... I don’t know, madness, or something else."

She paused, eyeing him more seriously.

"How’d you pass your power off as fire? And don’t dodge the question. I want a straight, honest answer." freёweɓnovel.com