Chapter 6 - Heal

Chapter 6 - Heal

--Thorskil--

T he muddy dirt road of Ytval Village seemed to stretch forever, as the steps I took in my worn-out leather boots made thumping noises. Panic weighed down my chest, heavier even than my old leather jacket that kept rising up my arms as I walked toward my land. The hot midday sun was burning at my neck, but I couldn’t care less because my son had been badly hurt by some stupid dare that shouldn’t have happened.

Trailing lazily behind me, casually brushing the rural road dust from his long dark violet coat where sword was hiding underneath, dark green hair, and with red eyes, was Damian Joos. He adjusted his silver-rimmed spectacles with a deep sigh that sounded entirely too amused for my liking. He was a former imperial battle-mage, an occasional pain in the ass, and one of the last true friends I kept from my olden days as an active adventurer.

"Do all of your village pathways possess this precise amount of choking, Thors, or is this a welcoming ceremony designed specifically to ruin my tailoring?" he drawled, shaking out the elegant hem of his traveling cloak.

"You are incredibly lucky I didn't drag you here by your collar," I muttered, never breaking my stride. "You happened to be within a three-mile radius. I don't believe in coincidences."

"Ah, yes. Only reckless timing and a fatherly hysteria." he chuckled. "A man of my refined tastes must go where the rare herbs grow."

"Right.." I replied.

"Say, I wasn't aware you were living in Ytval," Damian added.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I was hiding it."

"Right..." He replied.

I didn't possess the mental bandwidth for his standard banter, but a small part of me was profoundly grateful to hear his voice. The man was arrogant, insufferably smug, and entirely too confident in his own magical supremacy. But he was a Wizard Emperor in terms of skills with a Sword Saint level of swordsmanship.

People who could do both Magic, and an excellent Swordsman, are called Battle-mages.

A master of his craft. More importantly, he was here.

True magical healers were days away, locked inside the capital or wealthy cities. Ytval was just a tiny border speck in the Kingdom of Template. The nearest medical mage was in the City of Fritz—only a few hours away by horse—but their financial rates were outrageously predatory. Out here, if a peasant child fell ill, you simply prayed they could endure, or you watched them pass away.

Damian had literally been passing through on what he called a "magical ingredient safari." I hadn't bothered asking questions. I had simply tracked his mana signature through the woods and commandeered his services on the spot.

We finally reached the wooden perimeter gate. The rusty iron hinges shrieked as I threw it open. Damian paused, looking up at our modest farmhouse with a raised eyebrow.

"Homey," he commented dryly. "And charming, but inherently crooked."

"Still sturdier than your defensive barriers," I shot back, mounting the porch steps.

The front door was thrown open before my hand could touch the iron handle.

"Thors!"

Reyna stood firmly in the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes blazing with maternal fire.

"You better have brought someone who actually knows what they're doing!"

I managed a faint, tired smirk. "Yeah? Well, I did."

I stepped aside. Behind me, Damian stood, waving his left-gloved hand in a lazy wave.

"It is wonderful to see you again, Reyna." he said brightly, stepping past me with a theatrical bow. "Still utterly terrifying. I have always admired that about you."

Reyna gasped, her eyes flicked to his violet coat. "Oh, gods. It's you."

"You remember me! I am deeply honored," he said with a hearty laugh. "Though I can't quite tell from your tone if I left a good impression or a bad one. Let's just assume it means I'm exceptionally good-looking."

A vein popped from Reyna's temple.

I let out a ragged breath, pushing past them both. "Let's go see the patient."

We entered the dim bedroom upstairs. The scent of river clay and dried sweat still hung thick in the air. My son was lying perfectly still on his mattress, his white hair matted against his forehead. His clumsily bandaged arm rested stiffly at his chest. He blinked up at us with his golden eyes as we crowded into the small space, instinctively trying to push himself up.

"Dad..?"

"Don't move, Kyro." I ordered softly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be fine now."

The boy froze instantly. Damian clicked his tongue in a soft rhythm as he knelt directly beside the mattress.

"A river-clay cast, a willow-bark frame, and a standard line wrap," Damian murmured, gently inspecting my handiwork with his gloved fingers. "You did a surprisingly competent job for a brute, Thorskil." He glanced up at me through his spectacles. "But you are fortunate the fracture didn't pierce the arterial wall."

Renya let out a long, shuddering breath of relief from the doorway, her rigid shoulders finally dropping.

"Fix it." I insisted. "Please."

The battle-mage gave a solemn nod. He rolled up his sleeves, then lifted his right arm and grasped Kyro’s left arm. His right hand hovered over the injured arm as his palm emitted a soft blue glow. It lacked the blinding, pristine white light of high divine church healing, but this humbler, natural variant would be more than enough.

As his magic activated, I knelt by Kyro's good side, placing my hand securely over his shoulder. "You'll be alright, son. Just let him work."

Kyro looked up at me, giving a firm nod.

--Kyro--

I lay as still as a stone while the stranger worked his spell over me. My broken arm was completely bathed in cool blue light.

And then... I really felt it.

Beneath the hardened clay and cloth, the fractured bone was shifting. It didn't hurt at all. Instead, it felt like a tickle vibrating through my bone marrow—accompanied by muffled clicks as the pieces re-aligned themselves. It was easily the weirdest sensation I had ever experienced in two lifetimes.

My eyes drifted up to the man performing it.

He didn't look like a holy priest or a robed scholar. He had his sleeves rolled up, red eyes, a calm, almost bored expression on his face, and hands that glowed like neon lamps. Crucially, I hadn't heard him utter a single word of spell.

Wordless Casting, perhaps?

My lips moved, "Is that really magic?"

Damian's finger twitched for only a moment, then he let out a thoughtful hum.

"You're not screaming in pain, so yes. Definitely magic." he said, eyes still on my arm.

"Does it... have to hurt?" I asked, suddenly very concerned about the bone-melting comment.

"No, it was a joke."

"I don't get it."

"Hah! Doesn't look magical enough for you?"

I blinked. "Well... It's not sparkly."

He chuckled softly. "Sparkles are a bit expensive."

A small, genuine laugh escaped my throat, though, I flinched slightly as another internal alignment shifted within my wrist. It wasn't painful, just uncomfortable.

"So... what exactly is it? Did you use Worldless Casting?" I asked, my curiosity burning through my exhaustion.

"Technically... yes. But it's complicated." Damian glanced at me for a beat, then refocused the glowing on his palm. "For a kid with a bone trying to remember where it belongs, you do ask big questions."

"H-hey, I'm just curious." I mumbled, staring at my arm in fascination. "No one around here talks about magic. I mean, I know what books say, but..." I looked at him again, "You're the first person I've ever seen do it."

"Huh," He hummed, his arrogant demeanor dropping for a brief moment, replaced by a contemplative tone. "That is actually a bit tragic."

"What?" I shifted my head slightly. "Why?"

"Because magic is a magnificent, beautiful thing," he replied with a smile. "And if an old, dustly battle-mage like me is the only standard you ever witness, it would be an absolute waste of your potential."

My eyes widened, "Can... can anyone learn how to do it?"

"The half portion of humanity can," he said smoothly. "Not every single soul, but yeah. Magic is essentially like having a direct conversation with the fabric of the world. But you have to speak to it in its own native language. If you learn how to properly listen to the ambient energy around you, and learn how to articulate your desires back to it, reality will always respond."

"Really?"

"Yep. But of course, it has strict rules," he added. "You can't just wish for anything. Every spell varies in mana consumption. If you push past your capacity, you'll either pass out cold or end up far too weak to defend yourself in a fight."

I nodded.

"Wait..." I leaned my head back slightly. "When you say you have to speak, is it like a... what, a mutual conversation? With the world itself?" my chemist mind instantly trying to translate this into a scientific law of conservation and energy state manipulation.

"Eh, close enough." he nodded. "Except instead of 'hello', you say spells."

"Why does anyone need to say spells first when you can just do Wordless Casting?" I pressed. "Those really exist, right? I read about them in a book."

"Hmmm, you mean True Wordless Casting? Well, people born with it are rare, really," Damian explained. "If Wordless Casting was that easy, everyone would do it. In reality, very few people actually know how."

I turned to his hand, "Aren't you using Wordless Casting right now?"

"Oh, this?" Damian laughed softly. "Technically, it is. Certain races are capable of performing Wordless Casting on a limited scale. As for myself... I may look human, but I am not."

My eyes looked at him up and down. "What do you mean? You look human enough."

He laughed again. "Really?" He turned his head toward my father. "You hearing this, Thors?"

Thorskil offered a rare, faint smile. "He isn't human, Kyro. He's half-giant and half-dwarf."

My brain momentarily short-circuited.

Half-giant... half-dwarf...?

I turned back to Damian. "For real?"

"What he said is true—a little too tall for a dwarf, and a little too small for a giant," Damian confirmed. "I'm not able to use Aura like your parents, but my general mana—which I inherit from my giant blood—is naturally restorative. Every time I release my mana near an injury, it encourages healing. I'm simply pouring my mana directly into your wound to heal it. It's a giant trait."

Pouring mana...

Now that he pointed it out, I could actually feel it. A warm, liquid-like sensation seeping through my skin, soothing the torn tissue and knitting the bone together.

"Humans are a special case," Damian continued smoothly. "You have two separate sets of veins: one to perform Magic, and another that provides Aura. Aura is still magic, but most just agreed to set it in a different category, just like Blessings, and Authorities. You don't need to unlock one to get the other. Many humans can conjure Aura without ever casting a single spell. Me? I only have one set of veins for magic like my parents, but my mana grants natural healing."

"That's... really interesting," I whispered, completely fascinated.

"Indeed it is," Damian agreed. "Though mages tend to unlock their mana pool around age seven or sixteen, so don't feel bad that you can't do any magic for now."

"Well, I'll take that in mind."

"There is one thing I'd like to point out," Damian added, his tone growing serious as he gently tapped the side of his silver spectacles. "If you ever do magic, please keep in mind that it is one thing to simply mouth the words, but you have to actually mean it. Intent matters more than you might think. When a spell lacks true intent, it gets janky. Sometimes it fails, and sometimes it just drains twice as much mana as intended."

I blinked, thoroughly absorbing his words.

Magic... So intent matters.

I looked down at my arm, the blue illumination was completely fading now, dissolving into the air. The sharp ache was entirely gone, replaced by a stable numbness. I could the profound difference.

"That was amazing," I whispered.

"Of course, I'm always amazing." Damian rose to his full height, casually sliding his hands inside his cloak. "Try your best to be more careful next time, alright?"

I gave him a quiet nod, still staring at my now healed arm. I flexed my fingers like I wasn't sure if they were mine anymore, and I moved it a little more and the clay crumbled. Behind Damian, both my parents let out a long, relieved sigh.

A few minutes later, Reyna, Thorskil, and I stood by the front door while Damian stood just outside on the porch.

Reyna immediately stepped forward, pressing a small leather pouch into his hand. "You have our deepest thanks, Damian."

Damian smirked. "As you should. I'm always great."

He then turned to me, then smirked. "Here," Damian said suddenly, reaching into his coat. "Payment for being my quietest patient this week."

He pulled out a wrapped piece of bright orange with a gold stripe wrapped candy, and dropped it into my palm.

"Made it myself," he winked.

My eyes lit up. "You make candy too?"

"Well," he rubbed his nose with the back of his pointy finger in a smug pride. "Alchemy's not just for potions, you know. Besides, chocolate's better than most medicine out there."

Alchemy...!

Memories of my university days flashed through my mind—late nights studying chemistry, studying the ancestor of modern chemical science.

I grinned, already unwrapping the foil. "Can you teach me alchemy?"

"Once you learn how to manipulate mana," Damian said, reaching down to ruffle my white hair. "Maybe in the future, little one."

"Aw.." I let out a disappointed sigh, then I put the candy in my mouth. "Mmm~ Taste like orange."

"Taste like beauty." Damian nodded, already standing up. "Have a great day, Samsworth Family."

"Thank you, Damian," my father said with a warm smile.

We all waved as the battle-mage strode past the gate and slowly vanished down the road.

His words echoed in my mind long after he left.

Pouring mana...

Unbeknowsnt to me, a pair of sharp golden eyes glared down from the top of the stairs. Lyra crouched on the second floor landing, gripping the railing tightly as she watched us stood by the front door.

She scrunched her nose. Her voice was low, a grumble under her breath.

"Magic are for hippies.."

And though she wouldn't admit it out loud, something twisted in her chest. A pang she didn't quite understand. She didn't like seeing her little brother get so much attention.

[End]