The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 527

Chapter 527: 527 | And Then Radiant Arrived [CASTLE BONUS]

Rina sat against the wall twenty feet away with Maribelle beside her, the pink wool still cycling down in slow waves across her shoulders. Rina’s hands were shaking and her eyes were unfocused in the specific way that meant shock was setting in, but she was responsive and talking to Maribelle in a voice too quiet to make out across the distance.

Ren’s bad leg had given out completely. She sat with it extended in front of her and her face very still, not acknowledging the pain but not hiding it either. Koda crouched beside her with one hand on Ren’s shoulder and her other hand in a fist, like she was trying to decide whether punching something would help.

Spoiler: it would not.

Across the plaza, bodies in masks lay where we had left them. Some were moving. Most were not. The medical team would sort that out when they arrived.

If they arrived.

When.

Percy’s footsteps approached from my right. I heard the notebook close. He crouched beside me with his pen tucked behind his ear and looked at me for a long moment without writing anything down.

That was worse than the writing somehow.

"Three confirmed rib fractures," Percy said.

His voice had not changed registers. Same flat precision, same clinical detachment, same Percy doing Percy things in a crisis because someone had to and he had already decided it would be him.

"Probable pulmonary contusion based on respiratory pattern and impact location. Possible spleen involvement given the trajectory of the secondary strike. The shoulder is a separate conversation that will require imaging."

He paused.

"Belmont, you need a trauma team."

"I know," I said.

My voice sounded like I had gargled glass and decided to keep it as a souvenir. Sloane’s hand tightened on my face, and through the bond I felt her fear spike sharp enough to cut.

Percy looked at me for another three seconds, and something in his expression shifted in a way I could not read and did not want to because reading it would require acknowledging that Percy Mendoza, who filed everything under data and maintained emotional distance as a professional standard, was looking at me like I had done something that required recording in a different kind of notebook.

"I want to note," Percy continued in the same register, "that you sustained these injuries by covering multiple people who were unable to cover themselves."

"Percy."

"I am providing context for the record."

He stood.

The pen came out from behind his ear. He opened the notebook again and walked away, already moving to the next item on his checklist, and I was left on the floor with Sloane’s hand on my face and the comprehensive understanding that Percy’s version of emotional processing involved documentation and I had just been documented.

I filed that under things I would think about later when my ribs stopped filing complaints.

Across the plaza, Felicity sat against the wall with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. No illusions running, no Smoke and Mirrors, no ambient glow. Just Felicity Hardy at whatever age she actually was underneath the construction, looking small and young and tired in a way that made something in my chest tighten despite the fact that my chest was already at maximum tightness capacity.

She was looking at me.

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