ã€ŠA Doctor Without Bordersã€‹


 1. Call night

    I smiled as I picked up the last sandwich on the rack. Curried tofu. Surprisingly tasty. People dismissed it too readily. Of course, I also had my doubts before I was forced to choose between it and another 8 hours of hunger. Now it was my go-to. It was slim pickings in the hospital cafeteria in the hour before its midnight closure, but I always knew I would have a meal waiting. That and... I scooted around a stand and grabbed a bag of chips. I may be a doctor, but I threw out being healthy when I was on call. Plus, I hadn¡¯t eaten since breakfast.

    I approached the cashier when the most cheerful and yet dreadful sound stopped me cold. The vibration on my hip dashed any hopes that it was someone else''s pager going off.

    A stroke page.

    I was getting too old for this. This was the fourth page in the last two hours, the tenth since the afternoon. Strokes were falling out of the sky. My black cloud had always been terrible, but this streak of bad luck was something else. I needed to get home.

    I exhaled to vent my frustration. I shouldn''t even be here. A chief resident should be home before six, not midnight. I should have already eaten dinner and been answering pages in the comfort of my underused bed, but Brett. Brett, Brett, Brett. I pitied the first and second years who would work under him shortly. We were at the end of the year, and he was still a train wreck. Because of him, I missed my opportunity to escape before the floodgates opened on admits and strokes.

    My pager went off again, and I cursed as I fumbled it and my sandwich. I took a deep breath. Calm.

    I checked my pager: ED Bay 3. No pre-notification? Was the stroke missed or did it just happen to a patient in the emergency department? I sighed. The window could be short. I was here. I should lay eyes on the patient. A quick glance at the line was all it took to realize I would have to leave my trusted meal behind.

    Please be here when I come back.

    When I got home, I wanted to think about sleeping, not eating. I had an hour before this place closed. I should be done in time. Plus, no one likes tofu.

    I reached out to put it back on the rack and missed. I had missed my last dose, and it was showing. I didn¡¯t need my body¡¯s constant reminder of my stupid decision to pick this residency. The stroke pager was enough.

    I should have just finished my internal medicine residency, but I decided to tack on another three years because neurology seemed so...interesting? I snorted. No point lying to myself. I wanted to fix my hands. I had even helped on a clinical trial. My PI made it sound so interesting¡­

    Just two more weeks.

    I put my food back, and this time I didn''t miss.I hurried out the cafeteria and headed downstairs to walk through the winding tunnels of the hospital¡¯s basement.I walked, not ran.I earned that right.It was the second-year¡¯s job to be the first assessment.

    I pushed through the double doors of the back entrance of the emergency department before hanging a left. I side-stepped a gowned person rushing towards another room at the far end. I tossed a look back. People were spilling out of two separate rooms. Not good. The entire ED seemed to be coding. I snorted. At least I wasn''t the only one. Misery loves company.

    I found my other resident, Amanda, heading out of the room.

    "You ready?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I followed her back out of the room thanking God for her. Smart, diligent, quick, and enjoyably sassy. Everything Brett was not.

    ¡°What¡¯s the story?"

    "Weird.¡±

    I raised my eyebrow. ¡°I noticed no pre-notification.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, because it missed the screen. The ED resident only called after laying eyes on the guy.¡±

    ¡°Not a stroke?¡±

    ¡°Probably¡­¡±

    ¡°I hear a but.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    She was good, but she was still a PGY-2. ¡°Tell me the story.¡±

    She smiled in relief. ¡°It isn¡¯t long. Convenience store clerk called EMS after the patient started acting ¡®weird.¡¯ EMS had a good report, and I confirmed it with the clerk" I cocked an eyebrow. "He left his number. Don''t let anyone tell you that the people in the city don''t care." She was a local through and through. ¡°The guy started to slur his words and then stopped speaking altogether. He passed out on the counter. However, he woke back up with the slightest touch before shortly drifting off again.

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    ¡°Any convulsions?¡± She shook her head. I scrunched my face. ¡°I agree. Weird.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°How old is he?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. No identification. But he looks middle aged.¡±

    "A John Doe?" That was rare. Many of the pages started off that way, but they typically found something or someone.

    "Apparently. Didn¡¯t even have a wallet. Not sure how he planned to buy anything if he had no money.¡±

    Mystery for another time. "So, is he even in the window?¡±

    She checked her watch. ¡°Yeah. We have 30 minutes.¡±

    ¡°What is his exam like?¡±

    ¡°Confusing. His stroke scale is high, but it is hard to score because he is so unresponsive. He doesn''t appear focal, but I get what the clerk was seeing. He does actually wake up briefly with enough stimulation before falling back asleep.¡±

    "He wakes up?" Atypical for a stroke, but not unheard of...

    ¡°Yep, it takes a bit of effort now, but per one of the ED residents, he was quite with it before he would drift off again.¡±

    ¡°So, getting worse.¡±

    ¡°Looks like it. Drug screen and labs are stone-cold normal.¡±

    "Head CT normal?"

    "Yeah. No bleed. Not even a hint of a hypodensity to suggest a stroke.

    "He was acting normal beforehand?"

    "I mean it seems like it. The clerk mentioned the man seemed strangely taken with all the different food options in the store. He was quite vocal with his enthusiasm, but he was acting normally when he started to check out."

    "So let me guess. You don''t know what it is, but you don''t want to give tPA."

    She nodded in confirmation. "But I am glad you''re here. I would love to have a second set of eyes."

    "Alright, let¡¯s see him."

    We walked into his room. ¡°Amanda,¡± I paused a few feet from the stretcher. "What is he wearing?"

    His sheets and blankets were flipped over to one side uncovering what looked like a vivid purple gown. Except it could be¡­ I walked closer. It was, and it even had intricate patterns trailing down one side.

    ¡°Is that¡­¡±

    ¡°A robe? Did I not mention that?¡± She couldn¡¯t hide the playfulness in her voice.

    I shook my head. Focus. We were on the clock. "Okay, we have to add catatonia to this differential?"

    "Probably not a bad idea, but otherwise he is quite well-groomed and put together. Maybe he was going to or coming from some convention."

    It was hard to disagree. He did not appear at all disheveled. ¡°He does wear it well.¡±

    ¡°I know. He is like a model, right? ¡±

    Again, I couldn¡¯t disagree, but I pushed it all to the back of my mind. None of that mattered for his exam.

    I stood next to the bed and spoke loudly. ¡°Sir, can you hear me.¡± Nothing. I tried louder and received the same response.

    ¡°I had to use clavicle stimulation to get a response.¡±

    I nodded at Amanda¡¯s comment. I put my hand on his collar bone. ¡°Sir, this is going to hurt.¡±

    I squeezed, and his body jerked up. Both arms flew into the air. His legs kicked. The speed of his movement surprised me. I stepped back almost missing what he said.

    "What? What is going on? I can¡¯t feel it. I can¡¯t¡­¡±. He collapsed back down onto the stretcher.

    ¡°Feel what?¡± He only mumbled an unintelligible response to my question before drifting off. I put my hand back on his clavicle but didn¡¯t squeeze. I looked at Amanda. ¡°Did he do that for you?¡±

    Her eyes were still wide. ¡°Not like that.¡±

    I stepped back to take him in. I grabbed an arm and lifted it. I let it go, and it dropped like a rock. The same happened for each limb.

    ¡°He isn¡¯t really weak.¡± He had just raised his arms and kicked. Those weren¡¯t posturing positions. When he was awake, he was strong in all extremities.

    ¡°I guess not.¡± She processed it some. ¡°Right. Not with the way he just moved.¡± She paused a second. ¡°So not a stroke.¡±

    I didn¡¯t comment. I put my palm on his forehead to anchor my hands. Then I placed my fingers on his eyelids. ¡°I am going to open your eyes.¡± I pulled back his lids and my fingers almost slipped. ¡°Woah.¡±

    One was the darkest black, the other the lightest of blues. I had seen pictures of heterochromia, but nothing like this. Interesting and also totally extraneous.

    I waited to see if he would respond. When he didn¡¯t move, I quickly whipped his head back and forth. His eyes moved almost as expected.

    ¡°Amanda, I think he has a third.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She rushed to the head of the bed. She hated being wrong.

    ¡°It is subtle. Watch the black eye. It doesn¡¯t adduct.¡± I did the maneuver again.

    ¡°I am not sure I agree. It does move in a little. I still think he is non-focal.¡±

    I stared at those mismatched eyes. They were not roving. "Not particularly consistent with non-convulsive status. Has he gotten the Ativan?"

    "No, I was going to, but I didn''t want to confound the exam when I heard you were still in-house.¡±

    I nodded in appreciation before stopping. ¡°How did you know I would come down?¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

    She had me. This rotation would have been so much better if I had two of her if only because my need to micromanage would be far less with having two residents I trusted.

    I let go of his eyes and rubbed his sternum. He grunted and moaned, but he returned to unconsciousness as soon as I stopped.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    A thought had been tickling the back of my brain, and I finally voiced it. "What do you think about a stroke from the artery of Percheron?"

    She stared at me for a long time. ¡±Really? You really do like the zebras, don''t you?"

    I let that comment slide because she was right. Deducing all the different causes was a challenge I enjoyed. Why I thought I should be a surgeon I will never understand. Not that it mattered with my hands. "With the third, it would fit.¡±

    ¡°I can push him to the MRI.¡± Her voice trailed off.

    ¡°We won¡¯t have time.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your call,¡± and it really would be with our current attending. ¡°I can try some lorazepam.¡±

    ¡°That is a fair compromise. Tell the ED to get the tPA ready but have them do 2 mg of lorazepam before starting. If no improvement, push it.¡± I was hedging my bets, but the lorazepam shouldn''t be too sedating¡­

    ¡°I''m going to call Dr. Danziger for his blessing. I will let you know if he changes the plan.¡±

    She snorted as I turned to leave the room. Dr. Danziger would basically do whatever I wanted. Every resident knew he was checked out. We were at the end of the year. In two weeks, I would be making decisions without any oversight. He just gave me free reign a bit early. Probably why he always demanded this time of the year to be an attending.

    I found a quiet corner and called him.

 2. Stroke Code

    "What you got for me this time, Daniel?¡±His voice was tired.It had been a long night for him too.I had to call him with every stroke page, but at least he was straight to the point.

    "I want to push it. However, it''s weird."

    "How weird?"

    ¡°He woke up only with significant painful stimulation.Then he spoke a few words before drifting off.Amanda thinks he is non-focal.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡±

    ¡°I think he has a subtle third.I am thinking, artery of Percheron.We don¡¯t have time for an MRI.I want to push."

    He laughed at me. "Chasing another zebra?"I did not respond.We both knew that I was right more often than not."Have you tried giving him any benzos?¡±

    ¡°Amanda is now.If he doesn¡¯t respond, I plan on pushing the tPA.¡±

    His brief silence was telling, but he didn¡¯t contradict me. ¡°Fine. Just make sure his labs are okay.¡±

    ¡°I will double check.¡±

    I hung up and walked back into the bay.The nurse had just pushed the Ativan.I waited, watching as Amanda re-examined him.

    ¡°Seems worse.¡±

    I agreed with her assessment.¡°Push the tPA."

    "Got it old man."

    I gave her my exaggerated smile at the now running joke. It helped deal with disbelief and questions that came when people heard about my plan.After all, I was older than many of my attendings. Too many uncompleted residencies.Even when I struggled, it had always been easier for me to make medical decisions than ones about my life.However, the chronic sleep deprivation had finally caught up with me. I had to be done with training.

    She stared at me for a few seconds as if debating if to add the next words.¡°At least you are ending it on an interesting one.¡±

    My smile faltered.The mask had been unnecessary with her.She was one of the few who knew the whole truth. My friends from medical school and residency had long ago moved on while I struggled with the fruits of my indecision.However, I had kept in touch.Still, even most of them didn¡¯t know.Amanda only found out my plans because I let it slip by accident.However, she was one of the few that hadn¡¯t asked the same tiresome question: why are you quitting when you are so good at this?

    So, I told her the truth: the thrill of figuring out disease processes was not enough to make up for the drudgery of practicing medicine.It sounded as hollow to her as everyone else I told it to, but it was the truth¡ªjust part of it.She somehow finagled the other part out of me: I could no longer find the empathy needed to truly support people who had become sick.

    Was that needed?More than I liked would say no.I just wasn¡¯t one of them.Except, mine got consumed by the daily grind that was modern medicine.Too many days I was worn too thin.

    It was time for me to be done with it.People thought I was becoming a neuro-hospitalist, but I had turned down all those offers when the industry offer came through. Now I was going to be no different than the people I had snickered at when they went into management consulting after undergrad. At least the pay would be good.

    I walked to the bedside to do another exam. "Okay let''s see how you¡ª¡°

    My pager went off. I swore under my breath after reading it.

    "An admit?" Amanda asked.

    "No. Brett." The name said it all.

    "Not going home then.¡±

    "No. He wants me to help with his lumbar puncture.¡±I closed my eyes and exhaled. He should be able to do this by now.¡°Maybe after that,¡± assuming this goes okay.My stomach growled.¡°Do you have this?¡±She nodded.¡°Then I am going to get a bite to eat first. Call me if something comes up." My gaze lingered until I got an affirmative response. I hated leaving this patient, but he was in good hands.

    I checked my watch.This had taken longer than expected, but I still had a few minutes left before the cafeteria closed.

    I texted Brett that I would be there shortly.Then I wormed my way through the bowels of the hospital.The walls stark and peeling, pipes of different colors and varying lengths of insulation dipping and rising as they ran with and across the corridor, the basement had none of the fancy facades being applied to most of the wards.Such a metaphor for medicine.We made it look nice and clear, but underneath it all it was still messy.

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    Though I was sure it would be the same at my next place, in two weeks I would never see these walls again.I expected some nostalgia.I had been here for over six years.Instead, I found only relief.It was time. Time to not be on call every other night.

    I found the right set of stairs and took them two at a time.I exited right outside my goal.I couldn¡¯t help but smile when I saw it.A lone sandwich on the rack.Curried tofu sandwich.No one had taken it.

    I moved around the closed food stations faster than I cared to admit, but now that I had left the urgency of that stroke code, my hunger had returned.

    I reached for the sandwich.A pleasant, feminine voice froze me in place.

    ¡°Code Stroke ED Bay 3. Code Stroke ED Bay 3.¡±

    I cursed, silencing my pager without even looking at the page.John Doe.Something had gone very wrong.

    I was already out of the cafeteria when Amanda called.

    "I heard. I¡¯m coming down now.¡±I took the stairs four at a time.¡°What''s going on?¡±

    ¡°I think you were right about the stroke.He looked like he was waking up.Then he screamed and started convulsing.¡±

    ¡°Seizure?¡±

    ¡°Sure looked like it.¡±

    "Get him to the scanner. Did you-"

    "I gave him another 2 mg of lorazepam, and he is out.Totally unresponsive. Maybe drug-induced or post-ictal.¡±

    She didn¡¯t say the other reason.A bleed¡­from my decision.Leave it to neurologists to create a treatment that had to be given in an hours-long window, had benefit only after months, and had a significant chance to cause more harm than good.I gritted my teeth and pushed down the guilt.We didn¡¯t know that he had bled, but we soon would.

    ¡°Have you started to get him to the scanner?¡±

    She didn''t respond. She didn''t need to.She saw me coming around the corner as she walked into the room with the CT. She was going to be a damn good chief. She had already started the whole process before calling me.

    I walked into the scanner. John Doe was being pulled alongside the table.I joined to speed up the transfer.My mind laid out the plan:ICU admission, EEG, probably an MRI.

    "He looks good,¡± the tech said.

    We followed him back to the computers and huddled behind him waiting.

    I clamped down on my question of ¡°how much longer?"The tech was moving quickly.

    ¡°Scanning now.¡±He pushed the button, and a low-volume whine filled the room as the CT started scanning.

    I stared at the small screen as the images populated slice by slice. I didn¡¯t blink once.

    ¡°Do you want to re¡ª¡°

    I grabbed the tech¡¯s mouse before he could finish and scrolled through the images.

    I let out a breath that I did not realize I was holding. No bleed. Just¡ª

    "What did you do to me,¡± screamed a voice from the room.

    My head shot up.The patient was thrashing.

    "Fuck. He is going to hurt himself."

    Amanda was right.¡°Go grab a nurse and get some more lorazepam¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    I wanted to answer the tech, but I couldn¡¯t move my mouth.It hung open as blue sparks arced from the scanner to the ceiling.The scanner was big, easily as wide and tall as a truck, but four to six feet were still between the top of the scanner and the ceiling.

    ¡°We have to get out of here.¡±The tech¡¯s voice quavered with fear. ¡°I don¡¯t think a CT can blow, but I¡¯m not going to risk it.¡±

    ¡°The patient.¡±I started moving towards him, but Amanda grabbed my arm.

    ¡°The lightning.You will get killed.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Look, no sparks.¡± I pointed to the wall and the lights.¡°Current is low. I think it is like a Van de Graaff generator.¡±

    ¡°A what?¡±

    ¡°You know like the¡ª¡° I stopped.I didn¡¯t have time to explain a machine at science museums which let kids watch electricity arc when they touched the glass sphere surrounding the generator.

    With each second, I became more confident.The bolts had thickened and increased in number.They alternated from vivid purple to blue.They would have been mesmerizing to watch if the event didn¡¯t seem to defy natural laws and if I wasn¡¯t worried the machine would explode.

    As I approached, the arcs of electricity still were not causing any damage to the surroundings. Maybe it won¡¯t blow.It didn¡¯t matter.I needed to get him out even though I had a growing feeling that the origins of the phenomenon were not the CT scanner but rather the object in the center.

    I peered into the center of the donut to look at John Doe.He was no longer screaming, but blue and purple lightning radiated from his head.God.He was the source.

    This is all some weird natural phenomenon from the CT¡¯s radiation¡­

    I held onto that thought as I rushed to his side.¡°We¡¯ve got to get you out of here.¡±

    He opened his eyes at my words.He was awake. That would make things easier.I would have struggled carrying him.

    "You saved me." The lucidity of his response froze me. "By the Gods, what have I done?¡±

    He stared at me with his heterochromic eyes. Each one seemed to have an age that defied comprehension. They captured my attention and refused to let it go.

    "I''m sorry."

    His words broke me from my reverie, and I suddenly realized that I had failed to notice the high-pitched whine filling the room.

    ¡°Daniel!¡±I jerked my head around to find Amanda yelling my name from the doorway.They had abandoned the control room, which was good because the sparks had extended into it.

    Shit.I turned back to John Doe.An ozone scent filled the air.I grabbed him.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got to--¡±

    I finally registered his face.It carried an expression with which I was intimately familiar.I had seen it. I had worn it. So had most of my colleagues.It came after a bad call.Guilt.

    "This is poor thanks for saving a--"

    Something punched me in the chest, and the world flashed blue and then white.

 3. When Dinos Attack

    "God.¡±

    The word repeated in my mind at the cadence of my beating heart.Both quieted until only the slow thump of my heart remained.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I whispered, but the only answer was the soft caress of a gentle breeze. The ground beneath me was comfortable, inviting, the perfect complement to the warmth of the sun. I shifted slowly, expecting pain, but I only found a more comfortable position. I hadn¡¯t been this relaxed since before res--

    The patient.

    My eyes flashed open.Blue?I blinked, but it remained. Blue sky?

    I turned my head and regretted it instantly as a bright ball of light assaulted my eyes.I brought up a hand to shield my eyes.Definitely sky, but not just any sky. Crystal-blue sky without a single cloud or hint of haze. Nothing but blue.I hadn¡¯t seen a sky this clear since I hiked the wilderness in the Northern Cascades.

    This was not the hospital. I exhaled, trying to wrap my head around it.What happened?

    Only one way to find out.

    I sat up.

    ¡°Damn.¡±The word slipped out, but what else could I say?

    This was not the hospital. The hospital didn¡¯t have the fresh scent of wildflowers nor the melodious songs of birds filling the air. It sure as hell didn¡¯t have a grass covered rooftop with a panoramic view of majestic, snow-covered mountains.

    Where was I?

    I took it all in: the vast expanse of mountains that stood at the edge of the horizon and the dense forest not more than 200 feet down the slight, grass-covered incline. Towering evergreens stretched as far as my eye could see. It looked familiar, like the Pacific Northwest or the Colorado Rockies, and yet¡­how?

    Without thinking, I reached down.Following a well-practiced pattern, my hand slipped down into the right pocket of my white coat.I clasped a familiar object in a thick rubber case.My phone.It rested in the typical location¡ªfor the hospital.

    I finally looked away from the strange view to confirm what my phone¡¯s location implied. I was wearing what could be called my uniform: a white coat and my scrubs. My phone was exactly where I would have put it if I was wearing them.That shouldn¡¯t be a problem. I wore this combination for over half of my waking hours in a week. Except, I wasn¡¯t in the hospital right now. I shouldn¡¯t be a white coat and scrubs in the middle of nature.

    Just to confirm, I took another view of the scenery. I then closed my eye tightly and opens them again for another look.

    Still there. Still so real.

    I swallowed against the growing lump in the back of my throat, recalling the last moment before I woke up here. Not daring to let go of that familiar rubber case in my right hand, I patted my stomach with my left hand.

    It was fine. No warmth of blood and intestinal fluids. No scar. No hint of pain. Everything was completely normal. However, something had slammed into my stomach before I...lost consciousness, right?

    I pinched myself, and it just hurt.

    ¡°Stupid.¡±

    No one tried to contest my statement, but at least the pain jostled something in my mind.My phone was more useful than a safety blanket.It had GPS, if it wasn¡¯t broken.

    I pulled it out, and it woke up as soon as I lifted it to my face. I closed my eyes and gave thanks.It had survived, and more importantly, it worked. Except, it didn¡¯t have a signal.Not entirely surprising as I appeared to be out in the middle of nowhere.The why of that, I left for a later time.

    I opened the map app. GPS didn''t need a wireless tower. I waited. No blue dot appeared. I waited some more, working harder and harder to push down my growing fear.

    No blue dot. Only, ¡°GPS Signal Lost.¡±

    This had to be a dream.

    I pinched myself harder. It just hurt more. The mountains and trees did not change. Just a sea of green and¡­purple?

    I closed my eyelids tight before opening them again. That didn¡¯t change the color. The trees¡¯ needles weren¡¯t just green. In the right light, the edges have distinct violet tones. Not brown or dark green but purple.Purple!

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    I looked back down at the only truly familiar thing, hoping for an answer. In the hopes that I had missed something, I jumped between the map apps, missing the icon with my shaky finger more times than not. I gripped the phone harder, desperately trying to keep my breaths long and deep.

    I struggled. The maps showed nothing. I didn¡¯t exist.

    I raised my arm to chuck it in frustration, but the silence stopped me. The birds had been chirping. Now¡­only quiet.

    I scanned the forest, not daring to move or even breath. That didn¡¯t stop my heart from accelerating well into the range of tachycardia.

    My eyes snapped towards a rustling from down the hill. A brown blur burst from the tree line. It bounded, moving several feet in a single hop. A rabbit? But right before my eyes, its color shifted from a dark brown to grass green.

    What was going on? Better question: what was it running from?

    It took a second to get my answer. A massive beast burst through the shrub line with a loud roar.It was the size of a bear, but bears don¡¯t run on two clawed legs and have a long tail covered in feathers. My mind tried to process the sight.

    A velociraptor?

    Whatever it was, it pivoted with ease as it followed the path of the fleeing rabbit out of the shadows of the forest. In the sunlight, its scaly skin shimmered green and violet.Its curved claws dug deep. With each stride, it sent clods of dirt flying backwards and brought it closer to its prey. The rabbit was fast, but this thing was faster, especially on a straightaway. It closed the distance in less than a few seconds. Its crest of green, purple, and blue feathers flattened as it lowered its head, readying the final strike.

    Remove the rabbit and replace it with some other small lizard-like creature, and the scene would have been straight from a children¡¯s book about dinosaurs. It would have been beautiful if not for the sheer terror it invoked.

    The poor rabbit had no chance. It had one or two more bounds at most, and the raptor knew it. I tensed as the raptor readied its strike. Its jaws opened, and it stretched its neck forward, inches from ending its prey. The rabbit hit the ground in a poof of dust and disappeared¡­except not into the mouth of the beast.

    Where had it gone? Did it fall into a hole?

    I didn''t think I could be more surprised at the ending until the swath of ground around the rabbit¡¯s landing rippled. Seconds later, a rabbit jumped out and sprinted in the other direction.The raptor must have heard the rabbit because it skidded to a stop and spun around. It didn''t give chase. It was too late. The rabbit had made a clean escape into the underbrush.

    I smiled at the rabbit¡¯s unexpected survival until the beast roared. A realization dawned on me. What was worse: a fed or hungry dinosaur? If it had to decide between a small rabbit that could disappear into the earth and a much larger, slightly out-of-shape human, what would it choose?

    My palms and neck began to bead with sweat. When the dinosaur had spun around to find the rabbit, it spun with its head, not tail, facing me.

    I risked a look behind me and found nothing useful. I was on a grassy hill next to a ledge.I had no place to hide.

    Maybe it hadn¡¯t seen me.

    As if hearing my thoughts, it slowly turned its head towards me. Before I had scurried back a foot, it had already crossed half the distance between us. I kept scrambling. The grass beneath me gave way to rocky dirt. The sharp rocks were shredding my palms and knuckles as I hurried backward, but adrenaline made the pain little more than a slight burn.

    Through the cloud of red dirt I created, my end approached. I would never escape, but I still couldn¡¯t suppress the fear driving my fruitless attempt to escape. Then, when no more than thirty feet away, my death slowed to a walk. Why?

    I got my answer as my right hand found air instead of ground. My arm scraped against the rough edge of the rock ledge. I crashed onto my side, grunting, the wind knocked from my lungs.Hundreds of feet below me, a river raged. The rocks were small dots, but they had to be large with that much white mixed with blue water.

    I rolled back up to find the distance between me and the dinosaur had continued to decrease. With it closer, I could finally gauge its size. It was bigger than a goddamn truck. Raptors weren¡¯t this big, and its mouth was wrong. It--

    The edges of its mouth pulled back, revealing long fangs.Was that a smile? Each step with its long, curled claws was slow and deliberate.It wasn''t in a hurry. My heart found a new gear. Was it intelligent? Did it know I was trapped?

    Yes.

    The answer came from something deep and primal in my brain, and I couldn¡¯t deny it. The raptor was too fast, too agile. Even at the edge of the precipice, it should have no problem snatching my leg and dragging me away in a heartbeat.But no, it was taking its sweet time.It planned on toying with me until my last breath.

    I sat there frozen. Each step forward by the raptor proving the truth: I was going to die a terrible death, and there was no escape.

    Then my animal brain, long suppressed by the years of civilization, finally did more than just agree with my worst fear. There was a hope. Before my conscious brain could catch up, I had twisted onto my hands and knees and flung myself forward towards the open air with the white water below. Except, I was just not fast enough. My animal brain had taken a second too long to wake up fully.

    A roar came from behind me, and I screamed, not from fear but from the burst of pain from my foot. That pain found company as my descent found an early ending, and I slammed into the cliff face. Stars filled my vision, but I could still make out what had arrested my fall. The raptor had snagged my shoe, but just barely. Its jaws had clamped around my sneaker, suspending me in the air. Hot saliva dripped from its mouth onto my face and legs, but that was the only part of it that could reach any more of me. The raptor¡¯s short arms didn¡¯t have the range.

    I wiggled my foot. It sent shockwaves of pain down my leg, but I started to slip.I wiggled it some more. I slid down further.

    I smiled at the beast. ¡°No lunch for you. Next time, you shouldn¡¯t play with your damn food.¡±

    Oh, it was definitely intelligent.It might not have understood what I said, but it had grasped the intent.

    My eyes went wide as it opened its jaw. Gravity reasserted itself, but before I could fall, it lunged forward, jaw snapping shut with a sickening crunch.I screamed as its teeth found purchase higher up my foot.

    My vision swam. My foot throbbed. I still managed to crane my head up toward my attacker. The raptor¡¯s head was below the cliff edge. It had to be lying down to make this position work. I just needed to¡­

    Trying to wiggle free, I twisted the foot in its mouth. Not even the adrenaline pumping through my body could suppress the pain as its jaw tightened. Its teeth gnashed the bones in my foot, causing my vision to flicker.

    I couldn¡¯t do that again.I had thought I had known pain¡­

    It swung me to the side, but that caused me to slip a bit more out of my shoe. The beast learned from that mistake instantly.

    It wasn¡¯t going to give up. It would figure out a way.

    I would not be eaten alive. I kicked at its mouth with my free leg, screaming half in pain and half in frustration. Each kick sent shockwaves up my other leg only for the raptor to ignore each pathetic blow to its snout.

    A small rock struck my face as I suddenly jerked upward. It was just an inch, but another followed shortly after it. Dust and pebbles fell from the edge as I kept moving upward in jerks and starts.

    My kicking found a new gear. I found a new strength as all pain vanished. My blows still did nothing to the monster, but my survival instinct wouldn¡¯t let me stop. I railed at the futility until, after one kick, I slipped in the opposite direction. My shoe¡ªor foot¡ªwas giving way. Just a bit more¡ª

    Then I was traveling upward. The thing was smart. I had no question now. It knew I would fall soon, and it had gambled.It threw me up into the air hoping I wouldn¡¯t slip out of its reach.Its jaws opened wide, ready to receive the payout¡ªa better hold on my body.

    I wasn¡¯t going to be lunch. My right arm flicked forward, and I threw the only thing I had--my phone. My aim was terrible, but it flinched. That was all it took for it to miss its bite. I would have laughed if I wasn¡¯t falling. As I approached, the ratio of blue to white became much clearer. So much white water. So much--

 4. Integration

    I woke to an incessant beeping punctuated by intermittent hissing. I rolled my head to the side to follow two tubes to their respective machines: a ventilator and a battery of IV pumps.I was a patient in the ICU, and in critical condition.Yet, I could only sigh in relief for which the machine rewarded me with a loud honk.

    It can¡¯t be normal to be reassured by this sight. I racked my brain.I had to be forgetting something.I was sure of it.

    An angry beep roused me from my thoughts. I straightened my arm reflexively, but I still shot a glance at the pump.It displayed the code I expected. The alarm stopped seconds later after my arm¡¯s position no longer kinked my IV.

    I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. White, square paneling of a drop ceiling. So boring. So utilitarian. Perfect for an ICU. I closed my eyes and took in the sounds. Harsh. Stochastic. Each one designed to raise an alarm. Yet, tension eased from my muscles with each outburst. I was home.

    It was different from this angle. Normally, I looked into the room, not out.I also didn¡¯t have to crane my neck to inspect the bags hanging from the IV pole.

    Something was off.This should bother me.

    Now, I really wanted to check on what was in those IV bags. I did the next best thing. I checked the bed for a call button. Nothing. Hidden under the blanket? I tried to lift my hands, but something on my wrist held them down. I shifted my left arm back and forth until I could see what holding them done. Restraints. How agitated had I been?

    "You probably want that out." I turned my head towards the origin of the voice. A woman, arms crossed, leaned against the door frame to the entryway of my room. With the light behind her, I struggled to make out anything besides her blue scrubs and long white coat. However, it didn¡¯t matter. She didn¡¯t need them to affirm her authority. It dripped from each word she spoke. This was the ICU attending.

    I went to answer, but I had a tube down my throat. I just nodded instead.

    Ice broken, I had expected her to approach.Instead, she just stood assessing me, not bothering to offer either words of encouragement or a simple update.

    ¡°You know.It was touch and go for a bit, but you caught a lucky break.I would have hated to see the consequences if you hadn¡¯t."

    My eyes narrowed. ¡°Consequences? What are you talking about?¡± Except my words came out as nothing more than an incoherent grumble. The ventilator added a honk to chide me for having the impertinence to anything more than breathe. I tried pointing at my ET tube, but my hand jerked to a stop.The restraints¡­

    She didn¡¯t move an inch."You were quite agitated for a while."

    Was I? Images of an endless forest and a dinosaur flashed through my mind. It had been so real. If I had even acted out some of that¡­

    It didn¡¯t matter now. With my head, I gestured towards my restraints. I was no longer agitated. Hence, she had no reason to stand there leaving me strapped down with a tube scratching the back of my throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. The worst has passed.¡± She didn¡¯t budge, making it clear that she would get to me when she was good and ready. ¡°I think you''re going to be fine¡­at least for now. But, I have some quick questions."

    What? Who was this lady? She had the look and air of a doctor, but her bedside manner was...something to be desired.

    As if reading my mind, she finally decided to enter. Pointing at the ET tube, "let''s get this out of you.¡±

    She stood over me and took a hold. Even at this distance I couldn¡¯t make out any of her features. They blurred together into, leaving only the hint of a eyes, nose, and mouth.I needed my glasses.

    Her fingernails scraped my skin, lifting up the edge of the tape fastening the tube in my mouth.

    ¡°You strike me as someone who likes to take it nice and slow." Before I could nod in affirmation, she ripped the tape off my mouth. A line of fire ran across my lips, damping as quickly as it arrived. ¡°See not so bad.¡±

    I furrowed my brow at her bedside manner. Forget not something to be desired.It was atrocious. How about at least pretending for the sake of professional courtesy?At least ripping off the tape hurt far less than expected.

    She patted my head. ¡°I am sure you have experienced worse.¡± Even if those words felt right, but my mind struggled to pull up a time when I had. I was not an adventurous person. ¡°Now prepare to cough some."

    She pulled the tube, and I hacked until I felt that I had coughed up a lung.I was sure it had been hours, but the clock only showed minutes.

    "Thanks.¡± I tried again, but I couldn¡¯t speak louder than a whisper.

    ¡°Save your breath. I doubt you damage your vocal cords with the tube, but you still need to give yourself a chance to recover.As I said, it was touch and go. ¡±She must have noticed my expression. ¡°Yes, that bad, but you pulled through without any divi--um, heroic measures. ¡±She pulled the chair closer and sat in it. ¡°That is better. At least one of us should be comfortable.¡±

    I clenched my jaw, forcing down an angry retort. Her shift would be over soon. ¡°I am sure you are busy. You can round on your other patients. A nurse or resident can--¡±

    ¡°Right now, I am focusing on you.¡± That authority returned in a heartbeat. I didn¡¯t dare argue. ¡°And right now, I want to know what you want to be?"

    "Be?" She just nodded at my question. "Out of here?" And not that I can say it, done with you.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    That got a small chuckle, though it had a sharp edge to it. I didn¡¯t let my smile falter. No reason to piss her off unnecessarily.

    She leaned in closer. "Fair enough.That will definitely come with time, but not quite yet. Let me rephrase it. What do you want to do with your life?¡±

    Why was she asking me this? Did she not know my background?

    She rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. ¡°I know it is a silly question. I mean,¡± she raised her arms and moved them in a circle to showcase the room, ¡±look at this place. The answer is clear, but I have to ask. What do you want to do when you are all grown up?¡±

    Had I been like this with patients? So patronizing? So devoid of empathy? How could she call herself a doctor? I could do a better¡­

    My anger when out like a light. I could be a doctor, but was that what I really wanted?

    My eyes panned over the room. I had spent 80 hours a week in a place like this for the last six years. I had spent another two before that doing clinical rotations as a student. It was cold and sterile.It sucked the life out of you after not sleeping for over thirty hours straight and running between coding patients. Somehow, it was so comforting, and yet, I was giving it up, letting people like her carry the torch of my profession.

    If I had just found my path earlier¡­.I couldn¡¯t do another residency or fellowship. Better to be done than to do another few years of training.I was too old for this¡ªeven if I could do a better job than she did no matter how burnout I became.

    "It¡¯s quiet here." Strangely quiet. As if I was the only patient here. But then again, someone had dimmed the lights in the hall.It must be night. The ICU was always quieter and darker at night.

    She didn''t respond to my digression. She sat patiently, waiting me out.

    My nose itched. I tried to raise my hand to scratch it, but again my arm only lifted inches from the bed. I eyed restraint, but she made no attempt to get up and remove them.I sighed before letting my head fall back against the pillow.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°No. That won¡¯t work.¡±

    I jerked up from the bed, only the restraints on my arms to arrest my momentum. ¡°This has gone on long enough. Please remove my restraints.¡±

    ¡°Not until you answer the question.¡±

    My eyes narrowed. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You heard me.¡±

    My jaw clenched. My stomach churned. I stared at her with a look that could kill. She didn¡¯t flinch. In fact, she just smiled.

    We sat there and battle of wills. Her question wormed itself deeper into my mind.I tried to ignore it and focus on my anger, but I struggled seeing the antithesis of my profession¡¯s ideals in front of me.

    In the end, I broke first. After all, she was the ICU Attending, a questionably unethical one at that. She had so many ways to make my life miserable. An answer was a cheap price for freedom.

    ¡°Fine. If you want the truth, I always saw myself as a doctor, but that didn¡¯t work out for me.¡± I raised up my arms. ¡°Now get these off me.¡±

    She didn¡¯t even shift in her chair. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer the question.¡±

    ¡°What do you want? I would be a doctor in a world where the system didn¡¯t suck and where you actually had time to care for your patients. But seeing as that isn¡¯t possible, I went a different way. I am going to do my time with big pharma until I do.¡±

    "So a doctor, and a damn good one.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just¡ª¡°

    I stopped short, my mind actually processing the unexpected compliment.

    She smiled. ¡°Yes. You have a gift, even if you don¡¯t dare believe it.¡± She shifted and tapped her fingers on the arm rest. ¡°Is that it? You would be a doctor, or let¡¯s call it a physician to be more precise in world without all the inefficiencies of medicine?¡±

    I let out an exasperated sigh and played almost with her game. Anything to be done with her. ¡°Sure. In that hypothetical would, I would be doc¡ªphysician. but since that¡ª¡°

    ¡°What about a ranger, or a mage, or perhaps a...spellsword? Those are always popular.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± This time, I couldn''t keep all the anger from my voice. ¡°Is this some twisted game? What more do you need to hear to let me out of here? I have always wanted to help, to heal, but first my hands and then the system that is modern medicine could make it impossible to do so.¡±

    ¡°And just to be sure, not a healer?¡±

    "A healer? That''s not why I went to medical school.¡±

    She didn¡¯t even flinch at the acerbity that had slipped into my response. ¡°I will take that as a no.¡±

    I burst through the water, gasping for air. Somehow, I had survived¡ªfor now.

    The current took me in an instant. Stars exploded before my eyes, and my vision dimmed as my head cracked against a solid surface. I coughed and flailed, trying to grab onto whatever I had hit. Whether rock or wall, the force of the water tore me from it. My fingers kept slipping until they finally found a hold.

    I pulled my head out, struggling to maintain my grip as the rush of water flowing over my arms threatened to push me back under. I kept swallowing what felt like gallons of water for every second I held on. Amidst the chaos, I tried to get my bearings, but I could only make out the steep sides of the cliff face.

    My body shivered from exertion and the chill. Already the cold had seeped deep into my bones.I couldn¡¯t feel my fingers nor my injured foot. Only adrenaline kept me awake.This wasn¡¯t going to work, even if I could actually hold on.I had to let go.

    After stealing one good breath, I released my tenuous grip. I rotated onto my back to get a view of what was coming.I wished I hadn¡¯t. All I saw was water filled with rapids and endless, steep walls lining the edges.

    I slammed into a rock and then another. My legs weathered each blow until I struck hard while leading with my bad leg. My body twisted as it collapsed under the force of the blow. I spun around to face down the river, cracking the side of my head on a boulder.

    My ears rang, and my vision swam.I spun and hit another rock, but this time my arms took most of the impact.I expected more, but none came. I rolled over to be feet first. I blinked, clearing the water from my eyes.

    Smooth water?

    I blinked again, my vision becoming sharper each time.Yes, the water was placid.It was also speeding up.

    I pushed my tired body to try swim against the increasing current. My strokes became more frantic as rapids had disappeared. Soon the only white water existed from my desperate splashing and the little caps along a line of small ripples¡­a line of small ripples that had blue above it. Not just any blue. Crystal blue. The same color of the sky I had awoken to.

    A goddamn waterfall. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

    I screamed curses at the sky, at the god or being that had brought this on me. At least, I thought I did. Between the ringing in my ears and the increasing roar of the falls, I heard nothing, but I did manage to choke on water. By the time I finished coughing, I was falling again. This time, I wasn''t so lucky.

    ***

    I slammed the back of my head against the thin pillow, trying to bury may annoyance and to calm down. She probably hadn¡¯t meant spiritual healers and their ilk, but I didn¡¯t correct her. While there were plenty of other professions that healed, better to draw a line. I had cared for one too many patients that die years before their time because a charlatan claimed to be able to cure their cancers. The conversations I had when those miracle treatments inevitably failed never went well.

    "It will be a long road."

    I shrugged. ¡°It already has been,¡± but being a doctor started, not stopped, with residency. A doctor was forged and then honed through years of experience. "A doctor never stops learning."

    She nodded. "I can¡¯t argue the choice, but don''t say I didn''t offer you another option. Even if your potential wouldn¡¯t be as great, you still would have the makings of a phenomenal mage."

    I jerked my head over. I hadn¡¯t even heard her stand up. "Who are--" Her look shut down my anger. For the first time in our conversation, her face resolved into something more than a featureless blur.

    Had this all been an act?

    Most of the details failed to crystallize, but some remained. A half smile had none of the callousness of before. Eyes reflecting the same sadness in her smile.

    Those eyes. I couldn¡¯t pull away even as the sadness threatens to drown me. It filled those pale blue and midnight black pools--

    That heterochromia. Only one other person had them. ¡°Wait!¡±

    She reached out and put her hand on my head.With just a touch, it held me fast.She kneeled, bring her lips next to my ear to whisper, ¡°I apologize for this interaction.It was¡­unbecoming given the size of the debt I owe you.Unfortunately, my hands were bound.¡±A weight pushed on my consciousness.¡°Keep that anger.You will need it.¡±I struggled to speak more words, to stay awake.I failed in both. Just as darkness took me again, a whisper echoed, "I''ll be waiting.¡±

    Class Obtained: [Physician: Level 1]

    [Enhanced Memory] Obtained

    Lesser @#$%^& Boon Granted: [Enhanced Memory ¡ú Eidetic Memory: Medicine]

 5. Meet the [Healers] I

    Did I break every bone in my body? Every part of me ached. With each breath, each minute movement, pain lanced throughout my body. I had taken care of so many people who complained of pain, but now I finally understood what that could mean.

    Something pressed on my head and chest. "Help," I croaked. Just that single word sent spasms and hot lances through my head, neck, and chest.

    I opened my eyes. Blackness, save transient pinpricks of white. Was I blind? Something was on my head, but I couldn¡¯t move my hands to touch it. The pain¡­

    A subtle murmur, then warmth. It was like being dipped in warm butter. I had heard a patient describe IV hydromorphone like that once.Was I that bad? Tears welled up in my eyes as the agony began to recede. I didn¡¯t care. Give me more of those sweet, sweet narcotics.

    A deep exhaustion took root, growing as the warmth increased.I let the darkness take me. I didn¡¯t fight it.Better dead than this much suffering.

    I woke again, this time to darkness rather than a crystal-blue sky.My breath caught.I didn¡¯t dare breathe.I couldn¡¯t take that pain.So much already. The memory was so fresh, and I shuddered involuntarily.I tensed, expecting pain, but nothing came. I forced myself to let go of the air I was holding. It didn¡¯t hurt. I moved my arm. The pain was still there, but not excruciating.

    I focused on the ceiling. It was not the night sky. I was inside a room. Had someone found me? Was I in a hospital?

    It couldn''t be. Where were the lights? There was always a light on in the hospital. There should also be sounds. IV pumps, ventilators, SCDs. I had to be in an ICU. I had fallen over a waterfall.

    Had I?

    As if in answer, images flashed in my mind.The man in the scanner. The blue and purple lightning.The rabbit.The dinosaur.Each was in perfect detail, and each kindled a burning in my head.

    ¡°What is happening to me?¡± Nobody heard my whisper.

    Sweat beaded on my forehead and then ran down my face, first as trickles, then as rivers. My body shivered.My muscles ached with each twitch. Except I couldn''t be cold, not with the way I was sweating.

    Fever? Infection? Just those two single thoughts drove a spike deep into my brain.

    I thought I called out for help, but no one entered my room. Only voices, then arguing, came from the other room. Why weren¡¯t they coming? I needed antibiotics if I had infection and antipyretics for my fever. My head was on fire.

    Ignoring the pain, I stripped off the sheets and staggered towards the door. My vision swam. The world spun. My head pounded. I couldn''t stop. That door was freedom from this misery. I strained to take steps towards the only light in the room, the crease that surrounded the door. The light at the end of the tunnel. They had to help me.

    With each step, the voices grew louder and clearer, but it wasn¡¯t English. It reminded me of Spanish, musical and quick, but none of the words were familiar.

    ¡°Help,¡± I cried. A pause, then gibberish. I took another step. ¡°Help.¡±

    "¡­ Human¡­" My brain somehow started to make sense of the foreign words. "¡­ Unmarked¡­"

    Each was a hammer to my skull.I wanted help, but I didn¡¯t think I could take hearing another word. The voices stopped.

    Sweet silence. Push through and possibly face more pain or retreat?

    The throbbing in my head decided for me. It spiked. I staggered into the door, only to bend over and retch from the intensity of the pain. Nothing came out, but I gagged from the terrible, acidic taste filling my mouth.

    "¡­ awake!"

    A bomb exploded in my head, and I collapsed to my knees. The door opened, and bright light flooded the room. It was too much. I screamed and closed my eyes, trying to escape the pain.

    A hand pressed on my head. ¡°Rest.¡±

    Warmth filled me, and I complied, welcoming the blackness.

    ***

    "You saw how he moved. He''s possessed."

    "Master, you know that''s not true. I have checked. We have checked. He is pure.¡±

    Was that her?The physician from the hospital?

    Memories of forests and mountains and monsters clashed with the ICU.The conversation with the doctor started slipping away. I groped for the memory.It had seemed so¡­important, but no matter how I tried to hold on to them, they slipped away like sand through my fingers until only hazy flashes remained.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    What was real? Even the fragments of memory caused my heart to ache at the familiarity.

    A touch at my temple brought me back. ¡°Master, look.¡± A palpable frustration leaked from her voice. ¡°He is no longer Unmarked."

    I had to focus. Neither voice was from the woman with those mismatched eyes, but these voices were familiar¡­

    It clicked. They were the people talking from before I passed out. They spoke with the same rhythm and cadence, but now I understood every word.

    ¡°You forget yourself, apprentice,¡± the older-sounding voice snapped.¡°I have eyes. I am still not convinced.You are too invested. Don¡¯t expect my support in this.¡±

    I tried to move, but all the pain that had disappeared returned tenfold. I groaned. I opted to open my eyes, but the brightness of the light was a dagger.

    ¡°Keep them closed."

    While it lacked the gravelly tone of the older voice, I complied with the command. She spoke like someone competent and seasoned. I didn''t resist when a hand slowly lifted my head and wrapped something around my eyes.

    "Am I blind?" I pressed my reserves just to get out that sentence.

    "I doubt it. You''re just¡­adjusting." I sighed in relief, but adjusting? Adjusting to what? "It will take time. You''re in no position to move anyway."

    "He will need water. And don¡¯t you dare use any healing tonics or potions. We will apply the same rules as we do for those children who are delayed.¡±

    "Of course. I''ll go get some, Master,¡± she replied in a tone that verged on making a mockery of the title.

    The soft sounds of footsteps didn¡¯t mask the quiet growl of the older woman. There would definitely be words later between those two. The hierarchy here sounded far more formal than between an attending and a resident. Was one a doctor and the other a nurse? But in which hospital would using ¡±master¡± be appropriate? And the things about tonics and potions¡­? Where was I? Even if it hurt, I had to know.

    "What hospital am I in?"

    "You''ll need to speak Common if you wish to be understood. But you may as well save your breath. You''ll need it. I fear you may not have long to recover."

    The older woman did not give me time to answer before walking out and leaving me alone in darkness. I waited for someone to return. With each passing second, the urge to pull off the wrap around my eyes grew. A list of reasons not to populated my mind, with the first and foremost being the pain.

    Instead, I forced myself to sit up. The ache in my back was worth it.I had memories of walking, but I also had one of falling over a waterfall.  My arms and legs contained a strength that exceeded antigravity. At least 4/5 if I had to grade it.  Not full, but far better than being paralyzed.

    ¡°This was new to me.It took longer than I had expected to ready it.¡±

    I turned my head towards the voice from the other side of the room and nodded at the implicit apology from the younger woman. A hand cupped my own. It was warm. The touch was cautious yet with clear purpose. "Here." I didn''t resist her guidance as she placed both of my hands around a cup. It was cool and rough. Not steel or plastic. Ceramic?

    I didn¡¯t care. The cup unlocked my thirst.I gulped down the cool, sweet liquid, relishing it to the last drop. A warmth spread from inside my stomach to my entire body. Aches and pains began to diminish.

    "Thank you. What is this stuff?¡± Its effect worked as I would expect a narcotic, but far faster.It also cleared away some of the fogginess in my head.

    "I''m sorry, I do not understand that language.¡±

    ¡°But you speak perfect English.¡±

    ¡°I know this is strange. It was for me too, but you need to speak Common. It just takes some focus."

    Common? She was speaking...

    I replayed her words in my mind. They were never English. My mind had automatically translated every single word.

    How? Another question for another time.

    ¡°Is that--¡±

    No. I tried again, this time focusing on the sounds I had just heard. My lips and tongue started to move in a strange way. I didn¡¯t fight it, even as they produced utterly foreign sound. With effort, the words I wanted slowly spilled out. ¡°Is¡­that¡­better?¡±

    She answered, though I didn¡¯t need the confirmation. ¡°There you go. I know it can be strange especially if you grew up speaking a different language than Common. You''ll get used to it faster than you think."

    She took the empty cup from my hand. A thousand questions filled my mind, but a subtle clink and the sound of liquid filling the cup indicated that they would have to wait until later. I was not done with my medicine, but I had time for one question at least.

    ¡°Where am I?¡±

    She gave the cup back to me. ¡°Drink,¡± but she added, ¡°you are in a¡­let¡¯s just call it a mining camp. I found you in a river nearby. Do you know how you got there?¡±

    ¡°I remember a waterfall and¡­¡±

    ¡°The falls?¡± Almost as much to herself as to me, she added, ¡°That river is not for swimming.¡± She paused long enough to nudge the cup back to my mouth. ¡°You have the Gods¡¯ own luck. You survived the falls, the trip downstream, and still had enough luck to be found by me. Few would have been able to help you given the severity of your injuries."

    My muddled mind finally put two and two together. ¡°Wait. You found me? Saved me?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Now drink.¡±

    I did as she asked. Each sip brought warmth and ameliorated the pain. Had the waterfall not been a dream? Each ache and pain corroborated her words, but if I had fallen into the river that meant that I had seen a dinosaur. A sickening feeling filled my stomach. I was in a mining camp, but where was that?

    I brought the cup to my lap. "This might be strange, but--"

    A loud bang cut me off. A harsh, guttural yell¡ªno a roar¡ªfollowed in Common. "Is he awake?¡±

    As soon as he had spoken, the woman next to me hurried into the other room. Even if she hadn¡¯t rushed, the ferocity and malice infusing his words made it clear that the newcomer was no friend.

    If someone had responded, I missed it in the sounds of movement. Either way, it did little to mollify the newcomer. ¡°How many more resources do you intend to waste on this Human? He better be in the mines tomorrow or he will be cast out."

    "He will not be--"

    A crack, then a stifled cry. My savior went silent. She had saved me. I should say something, but I couldn¡¯t, not when every bit of my survival instinct screamed that doing anything to make myself known would be death. Instead, I gripped the cup hard enough that my hands hurt.

    ¡°You forget your place, girl. You may be her student and gifted, but you will still listen to me. I gave you leniency, but your failure yesterday ended that.¡±

    The older woman stepped in. ¡°Enough. She is mine to punish, but know that I agree with you even if not for the same reason. She would have failed to heal him even if she had the energy."

    ¡°Somehow I doubt that. He enters the mine tomorrow no matter what shape he''s in. He owes a large enough debt, and your debt does not extend to the likes of him.¡±

    The door slammed. A second later the older voice hissed, "You fool. Now you have me wrapped up in your poor decisions. You should have just let him die. It would have been a greater mercy than what is about to happen."

    The door slammed again.

    Another set of footsteps approached. "Gods, I left the door open. You heard it all?"

    I nodded.

    "I am a fool."

    I wanted to reassure her, but nothing in that exchange sounded good for me.

    "Here."I took what she put into my hand. This one was cooler and smoother. Glass? "Drink."

    I did what she requested, but this time the cool liquid was a bitter substance. ¡°What is this¡ª¡°

    ¡°Just drink it. All of it.¡±

    I owed my life to her. I tipped it back and finished it in one swig.

    Warmth followed by nausea spread from my core. My arms grew heavy. "What did you give me?" My words slurred. I struggled to stay sitting up.

    She put a hand on my head. "I''m sorry, but I don¡¯t see another option." Before I could say a word, something pulsed in my head. It pulled me towards slumber. No. Not again. I needed answers, not sleep. "You have proven stronger than I would have expected for your level.¡± The pulsing grew stronger, and an unpleasant tingling spread across my head. It beat down my resistance, and once again I fell into darkness.

 6. Meet the [Healers] II

    I awoke to a similar pulsation. I jerked to a sitting position before I remembered how sore I was. I cringed in regret, but no pain came.

    ¡°I am sorry for that, but you tolerated the treatment well.¡±

    ¡°There was a chance I wouldn¡¯t?¡±

    She hesitated. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You should have asked me first.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. Though, I could see no other choice.¡±

    I scowled. Given what I had heard, she was probably right, but she still should have allowed me to make an informed choice. However, arguing about it now would do little.

    ¡°How long was I out?¡±

    ¡°For the rest of the day.¡±

    I took a moment to digest that and its implications based on the brief conversation I had overheard. ¡°Does that mean¡­¡±

    ¡°That you are to go to the mines? Likely yes.I will try to argue otherwise.¡±

    I reached for the bandage on my eyes. I had been in the dark for too long.I needed more information.

    She grabbed my hand, holding my arm down. ¡°Don¡¯t. You haven¡¯t stabilized yet.I am almost done.¡±

    I could force it, but I had no idea my condition.It would also be a challenge. Her grip was surprisingly strong. Still, I didn¡¯t have to hide my displeasure.¡°Are there any risks to this?¡±

    ¡°No. The worst has passed. I only have a few things to check.¡±

    I relaxed. ¡°Fine.¡± I waited, trying not to flinch with each of her touches. ¡°Can you at least tell me what you are doing?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Most aren¡¯t interested.¡±

    I hesitated about telling her that I was a doctor. ¡°It has been a lot, and not knowing what has happened makes it worse. You called me...Unmarked.¡±

    "Yes.¡± The pause lingered, becoming an uncomfortable silence. I held back from filling it. ¡°It was surprising. I have never heard of such a thing at your age. Those who are born and do not obtain a Mark in their first months often succumb. The rate is much higher as a child grows older. I never heard of a child older than two surviving. The channels are set. Yet, here you are. A grown man. Even if my master doesn¡¯t believe me, I saw them appear with my own eyes. I don¡¯t know what to make of you, but it was fascinating.¡± She took her time with her next words. ¡°I recommend you never tell anyone else.¡±

    I parsed her words. It sounded like I developed some type of infection. Clinically, that would make sense. Like polio or chicken pox, children manifest much milder symptoms than naive adults. Many infections have dermatological manifestations. Perhaps these ¡±marks¡± are just that, with a cultural stigma attached to them. But really, where the hell am I that a rash is called a mark? And channels? Did I end up in some anti-vax, hippie commune?

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    ¡°This should be the last bit. It might be uncomfortable.¡± She put a hand on my temple and another one over my heart. A familiar pulsing started, though this one had none of the sedative effect. It and my heartbeat slowly grew to beat in time.

    ¡°What is that?¡±

    She moved from my chest to my arms and back. ¡°I am just confirming your channels are undamaged.¡±

    Again with the channels. ¡°Am I in a hospital?¡± My mouth twisted, and my tongue stuck when I said hospital.

    She stopped. Her hands left my body. ¡°A what?¡±

    ¡°Am I in a hospital?¡± I scowled as my mouth made a similar twisting motion. The word failed to come through. Everything else came so easily. It was as if the word ¡°hospital¡± didn¡¯t exist¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying, but you are in a healer¡¯s lodge¡ªwell, hut might be more appropriate here.¡±

    A healer¡¯s lodge? What is going on?

    Memories flashed in my mind. An explosion. A dinosaur. A waterfall. A language in which each word drove spikes of pain into my brain. None of this made sense, but it was too real to be a dream.

    My heart sped up to a gallop. I swallowed, trying to wet my dry throat enough that I could ask the most essential question. ¡°Where am I?¡±

    I must have looked terrified because she spoke, softly as if trying to keep me from fleeing. ¡°You are in a mining camp deep in the ?terfajraltoj or, as we call it, the Fossandefj?ll.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me that is some obscure mountain range in the U.S.¡±

    She looked at me with confusion. "U? S? Is that the name of your home?¡±

    ¡°How about Earth?¡± She shook her head. I tried again, slightly altering my intent. ¡°Earth?¡±

    ¡°Dirt?¡±

    Whatever was translating our speech clearly had limits, but it also was light years beyond anything I had ever heard of.

    Have I woken up in the future?

    I touched my scalp, checking for some signs of a brain-machine interface and finding nothing.

    It could be embedded¡­

    However, that didn''t explain what I had seen or her lack of knowledge about one crucial piece of information. "I braced myself as I asked the question. "How do you not know about Earth?"

    My mouth twisted again, and I shook my head, trying to keep the tears from flowing.

    Don¡¯t want to impact my healing.

    She cupped my hands. ¡°I am sorry. I haven¡¯t traveled far from this land, but it is clear you must be from far away. Even if your clothes and gear weren¡¯t so foreign, your ignorance is too great. I know you have questions for me, but I have some for you too. How far have you come that you don¡¯t know of the Wilds?¡±

    I shook my head. How did I answer that? Did it even matter? ¡°I''m from far away?¡±

    ¡°Then how did you survive? Your gear is not enchanted, and while I don¡¯t have my master¡¯s skill, you can¡¯t be far into the first tier. How did you survive the beasts of the Wilds long enough to fall into the ?tertorento in the first place?¡±

    "I don¡¯t know. I¡­¡± I tipped my head to the sky. Did I tell her? My head dropped, as whatever strength I had gained disappeared. I barely managed a whisper in response to her question. ¡°I think I''m here because of¡±¡ªwhat did the insurance companies call it?¡ª¡°an act of God."

    She sucked in air, and she pulled her hands away from mine. A crash of something¡ªa chair?¡ªtoppling to the floor followed shortly after.

    The sound and her sudden movements jolted me out of my despair. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    Before I could stop myself, I ripped down the bandage covering my eyes.I braced for pain, but that shock didn¡¯t come. Instead, I got another shock when I finally got a look at the person who had been caring for me this entire time. Even though I wasn¡¯t wearing my glasses, she was crystal clear, and her skin was definitely green.

    I laughed. I couldn''t stop laughing. At some point, my laughter became hysterical. She watched me the entire time.I must have looked insane to her. Perhaps I was. I wanted to believe that I had gone mad, but this had to be true. How else could I explain a rabbit, a velociraptor, and now this woman?

    When I finally calmed down, my respect for this young woman grew. She had not backed away. I had seen many doctors flinch at far less. I should have thanked her, but instead I couldn¡¯t quite grapple with what my eyes were seeing. ¡°Are you¡­human?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    Her words had taken on an edge.I picked up on it, but I couldn¡¯t make myself care.

    ¡°I mean, you look it, but¡­¡° I waved in her general direction with both hands, implying the rest.

    Every bit of empathy drained from her face. "That is the first thing you say upon seeing me? I brought you back from the edge of death, and this is how you treat me? I¡¯ve killed men for less. How dare you bring up my heritage after all I''ve done for you.¡± She stood up and walked towards the door. She stopped and pointed. ¡°What remains of your clothes and items are in that corner.I now regret not handing them to our [Quartermaster]. Good luck in the mines. You''ll need it."

    She was leaving me over a single question? I giggled. What had I said? I giggled again. She hesitated in the doorway. Her dark green lips drew into a line. In the shadows, her brown eyes glowed with flecks of fluorescent green, and yet I found not an ounce of compassion in them. I tried, but I couldn''t stop the laughter. Could this day get any worse?

    This time, she did not wait for me to stop.

 7. Lessons

    I calmed down...eventually. Not once did anyone come to check on me.I truly was alone. I had somehow pissed off the only person who seemed to care.

    ¡°Better off without her,¡± but I didn¡¯t believe the words I had muttered. Still, what doctor abandons a patient? Especially one that was having a mental breakdown? I forcibly unclenched my hands. Except, she wasn¡¯t a doctor.I knew nothing of this world, and, looking around the room, it was nothing like my own.It was...primitive.

    I rubbed the blankets covering me between my fingers. The thread was coarse. The stitching was wide and irregular. No machine made this. They had to be handwoven. The bed was no better. It was crafted out of unhewn wood. In a different setting, it may have sold for a pretty penny to create a rustic look. Here? Not so much. Not with every other table and chair looking unfinished. Where was the metal? And was the floor really packed dirt?

    I rubbed my bare foot against it. It was. I was so screwed.I had done some hiking and camping when I was younger, but medical school and residency had kept me busy.I was far from a survivalist. I liked¡ªno, needed¡ªmy tech.

    I took a deep breath to stop from going back to that dark place. I needed clothes.I looked over to the corner where she had pointed to before leaving. A pile. I exhaled in relief before flipping off the blanket covering me. I swore. I was nude.

    I hurried to the corner only to swear again. No way.

    I was naked. My first priority should have been to get dressed, but I couldn¡¯t help it. I leaned over and picked up the small rectangular device. Of all the things to survive my journey, my pager?

    The plastic carrying case was cracked, but the pager looked in one piece. I popped it out of its holder. I pushed and held one button, waiting for the characteristic beep. Nothing.

    I closed my eyes and sighed. ¡°Thank goodness.¡± The relief didn¡¯t make sense, but I had been at its beck and call for too many years. Nothing was better than handing off a pager after a long call day. I had been so looking forward to passing off the little bomb to the next chief in two weeks.

    I gripped the pager. Now the freedom was tainted. I had earned it, but at what price?

    I put it back down so that I would no longer be tempted to chuck it across the room. I would look at it later. The water probably did permanent damage, but the battery might be useful in the future.A small shiver rolled through my body. The pager was the least of my concerns.

    I shifted my eyes to what remained of my clothes--scrubs, boxers, a grey undershirt, a white coat, and two athletic socks. Each was perfectly folded. She had cared.

    I swore. I had royally screwed that up. I would need to make amends, but first I needed clothes.

    I reached for my undershirt when a glint caught my eye. My eyes widened, and I ignored the cold to pick up my watch. A gift from my parents for graduating college and getting into medical school, it had been a constant companion for over a decade. I flipped it over in my fingers, examining it surfaces. I shook my head in disbelief. Barely any new scratches. It survived a drop off a waterfall and still ran¡­

    But how?

    I turned the watch over to inspect the gears.They moved. I flipped it again to look at the face. As second hand ticked by, I counted out the seconds. Still accurate.That didn¡¯t make sense. Without moving, I needed to wind it within two days.

    Did I not get injured as badly as I had thought?

    I slipped it on my wrist, before I tossed on my undergarments.Then I examined my coat and scrubs.The river had not been kind. My scrubs had made it out okay. They bore a few new dark streaks, but my white coat was not so lucky. Streaks of black and green, likely from my many collisions with the rocks, covered its surface. One of the external pockets had been ripped clean off. The hole along the left, lateral seam, once sized for a hand to slip through easily, had become a long slit that ran to the bottom of my jacket. A few days ago, I would have tossed it and grabbed a spare. Now, I put them both on. Scrubs weren¡¯t ideal for traipsing outdoors, but I needed layers if I was in the mountains.

    Of course, that assumes I am still in the mountains.

    As I had no way to prove or disprove that assertion, I moved to the next item of clothing. I ducked my head under the small table.

    No shoes. Perfect, but fitting.

    I picked up a sock and put it on.It was thin, but my foot appreciated it. I picked up my other sock and pulled it up only for it to not stop at my toes. I looked down to find my bare toes sticking out past a frayed white edge. How had I forgotten?

    I hadn''t just lost both shoes to the river. I wiggled my toes, all five of them. I pulled off the sock and pulled the foot towards my face to better examine my right foot. Not even a scar. But the damage I sustained¡­ Was it a dr¡ª

    No.I had to stop thinking that.I had to treat this place as real. However, how was my foot intact? I should have lost at least a few toes if not half my foot.

    I needed answers. I grabbed what was left of my tools. Not much. Only my reflex hammer, tucked in my coat¡¯s buttonholes, and a few safety pins attached to the front survived. Not surprising really. I lost my stethoscope. I had worn it wrapped around my neck. The oils from the skin did terrible things for its tubing¡¯s durability, but conveniences trumped. Now it had cost me. Though, even in my pocket, I probably would have lost it. After all, I had lost my pocket reference. The water must have ripped out the small books. I cursed. Hard to be a doctor without tools. Even if burning a book verged on sacrilege, that paper dried fast. In an emergency, it might have made decent kindling for a fire.

    My head snapped up. Fire. Where were the torches lighting this room?

    I walked over to a light and squinted in disbelief. To confirm, I reached out to touch the source, a crystal glowing with the same color as a warm light bulb. It hung from the wall via a small wood frame almost like a wire. I peeked along its edge. No signs of a wire. I ran my fingers along the edge.Not a trace of warmth. I picked it up and rotated it. How did they get the light in there? There were no cracks or seams, but one edge contained a faint pattern or inscription. I put it down and walked to another one. It was the same.

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    ¡°Are you done examining our light stones? You have wasted enough of my time.¡±

    I spun to face my visitor. At first, I had thought my rescuer had returned, but the green of her skin was off. Every part of her was a shade darker¡ªlike the dark green of the leaves from last year¡¯s growth as compared to next spring¡¯s new buds¡ªexcept for her long white hair, which just made her hue of green that much more vivid.

    Her gaze shifted to the stones, and she tsked. ¡°And not even the decency to charge them. What were you doing with all that time staring? No matter. What else could I expect from a Human. But, I can be gracious. After all, I have you to thank for helping to prove my point to my student. Nothing I could''ve said would have mattered.But a simple example of a fool turning away the only person who cared to help him...¡± She chuckled darkly.

    From across the room, I took the woman in. She stood tall, likely exceeding my height by a few inches. Arms crossed, she didn¡¯t bother to hide any of her disdain.It was practically etched in with the rest of the lines in her face. The sinews in her forearms and weathered skin confirmed a hard life.

    The pieces came together. This could only be one person: the elder healer. Everything about her scream that this was not a woman to cross, and yet, without saying a word, I had pissed her off.

    Before I could say anything, the door opened from the other room. The healer turned to address the person that had entered. ¡°You needn¡¯t waste your time. Your previous message was abundantly clear.¡±

    ¡°To you perhaps.¡± Cold, cutting, I recognized the voice.Yesterday¡¯s visitor had returned.

    ¡°My apprentice is not here.There will not be any problems.¡±

    "Will I be dragging him to the forest?"

    ¡°It appears my apprentice stretched the boundaries of my instructions. He survived a gamble and will be able to walk himself to the mines. Unfortunately, you won¡¯t have any extra bait for hunting.¡±

    A dark laugh answered. They had to be joking. If the surrounding forest contained creatures similar to what I had seen upon arriving here¡­

    The woman stepped away from the doorway to let the speaker in.My eyes grew wide at his appearance.

    Our newest guest was not human, not completely. He had a thick brow, angular jaw, long canines, and an excessive amount of body hair. He was as much wolf as man. Images of the earliest stages of werewolf transformations from bad B-movies flashed through my mind. Except, he wasn¡¯t in pain. Quite the opposite.He seemed quite comfortable in his skin, moving with the deadly grace of a warrior. He wore gear to match, a black material, likely a type of leather, that protected his chest, arms, and legs. He stood a head shorter than the elder healer, which put him a few inches shorter than I was, but I had no doubt that he could tear me apart with the long knife attached to his hip or his hands with fingernails that all narrowed to a fine point.

    He gave me a sinister smile.¡±You are lucky. Most people I come for do not tend to live much longer."

    He had mistaken my surprise for fear, though to be fair, surprise had only won out by the barest of margins. He waited a beat for me to respond, but when I didn¡¯t, he addressed the old woman.¡°I expected Esper to be here."

    Esper. I burned her name into my memory. Even if her actions were childish, I had somehow misstepped. I would find a way to make amends. She had saved me, and so far, no one else showed a shred of human decency. Human decency¡­a terrible term here, but it didn¡¯t change the truth. I needed a friend if not an ally. For whatever reasons, her position carried import¡ªenough to necessitate a high-level¡­enforcer?

    "You can thank the young Human for that." The enforcer cocked his head, but she didn¡¯t explain further. ¡°Now get him out of here. I''m tired of him stinking up the place."

    The wolf man snorted. He gave me a once over. "Not much to look at." Though, his eyes lingered on my face. ¡°He skews towards Mind?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    "Did you check his Potentials?¡±

    "Yes, but I doubt they were right. What he went through made them¡­less accurate."

    His eyes never left my face. I resisted the urge to bring my hand to my forehead. ¡°How inaccurate?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡±

    He scowled. ¡°It might. What class are you?"

    Middle class seemed unlikely. A memory of words rose to the surface: [Class Obtained: Physician - Level 1]

    A lie was on the tip of my tongue. Nothing I''ve heard made me believe that I would do well toiling in the mines. Perhaps if I pretended to be a mage¡­except mages casted magic, which, after seeing those light crystals, may actually exist something I couldn¡¯t do. If I had to prove it...

    "[Physician]." The way I spoke the word surprised me. A strange empha¡ª

    The enforcer growled. ¡°Don¡¯t lie. I have heard of no such class among the Humans.¡±

    ¡°I am not. It is a type of doctor.¡± His frown deepened. ¡°I am not lying. Maybe it would better be understood as a type of healer."

    The man''s head snapped over to the elder healer. "Is he?" The tone was deadly serious.

    She scowled at the question. "He can''t be. I''ve never heard of his class in all of our lore about healing.¡±

    ¡°What about [Doctor]?¡±

    Again with the strange emphasis, though she didn¡¯t seem fazed by it. She did hesitate, as if to mull over answering the questions. ¡°I have heard of it, but it isn¡¯t a [Healer].¡± A low rumble escaped from his throat. ¡°You ask for information you have no right to.¡± That only infuriated the enforcer more, but the elder healer¡ªor [Healer]¡ªheld her ground. ¡°You don¡¯t need it anyways in his case. His Potentials are inadequate."

    "You said that you could not accurately assess his Potentials.¡±

    ¡°I will admit to some error, but it didn¡¯t matter with regards to his Projection. It is way too low."

    "Still--"

    "You doubt me." A wave of pressure hit me, almost driving me to a knee. As quickly as it came, it pulled back. The wolfman¡ªfor a lack of a better term¡ªdidn''t even flinch. However, he snarled, showing his long and pointed canines. "Fine." She drew a knife. In a blink of any eye, the man had moved over four feet. One claw gripped her wrist, the other was raised ready to strike.

    She didn''t cry out, but she couldn¡¯t hide every sign of pain. Still, she held herself up without a shred of fear, and given the way that she looked at him, I almost believed that he was in the more vulnerable position. ¡°You forget yourself. I have means to show the truth. Now let go of me, and I will pretend this never happened.¡± He didn''t let go. His snarl only widened. ¡°Do you think your Alfa will be pleased you laid hands on a [Healer]?¡±

    He said nothing, but he let go and stepped back. She put the sharp blade to her wrist. In a flick of her hand, a dark red line bloomed from her wrist.

    "What did you do?" I yelled, rushing over to her. All my dislike faded away in an instant. The way the blood spurted, she must have hit her radial artery. She could bleed out in minutes.

    "Where are your bandages? We need to put pressure until we can get some suture. Hopefully we won¡¯t have to ligate it. I haven¡¯t done this artery before, but--¡±

    A barrage of knowledge cut me off. I had read about this once during a rotation in vascular surgery. I could see the words detailing the approach, when to repair versus ligate, the risk to both.

    How...?

    "Heal it." She dragged me from my thoughts. My hands still pressed on her wrist, but bright red blood welled out. ¡°Heal it.¡±

    "Heal it?"

    ¡°Yes. Heal the wound. Or do you not know how?

    I stared as the blood rolled down her wrist to drip off her fingers onto the dirt floor. Red. Not blue, green, purple. Red. And the only reassuring thing about this situation.

    "You can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Not without su--

    She took a breath and exhaled. Before my eyes, the blood glowed a violet-red and the laceration started to mend. It was over in seconds. ¡°It can¡¯t be.¡± I rubbed the blood away with my thumbs. Not even a mark. "How?"

    She jerked her arm away, leaving me staring at my hands agape. "I''m a [Healer].¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t an answer. That shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±

    ¡°A fresh wound. A clean cut. Even a level 1 [Healer] should be able to manage some healing even when it¡¯s not on their own person. For you not to know that¡­¡± She looked at her guest. "Do you doubt me now? He failed the most basic of tests, not that it was needed."

    He didn''t apologize. "You better hope you''re right."

    ¡°He is not an answer to your problems.¡±

    ¡°Our problems,¡± he corrected.

    ¡°Yes, our problems.I have not forgotten them. I deal with them every day, or have you forgotten how much time I spend healing each day? Now get this Human out of here. He has wasted enough of my time.¡±

    Without another word, she turned her back to him and headed to the other room.The thick hair on his arms and neck bristling, he growled at the dismissal, but he did nothing more.

    ¡°Come.¡±

    Even with my mind reeling from shock, I didn¡¯t hesitate. My sense of self-preservation wouldn¡¯t allow nothing else. Something had stayed his hand with the [Healer], but no way in hell would that luxury extend to me.

 8. Lay of the Land

    A stiff gust of wind hit me as soon as I walked out of the door. It cut like a knife, and I pulled my white coat closed to ward off the cold. My shock turned to awe as I found the source of the frigid blast. A sheer rock face stretched to the sky. Even craning my neck, I could barely see the blue sky at the top. It had to be thousands of feet. It would be majestic if this wasn¡¯t my new home. Now it just confirmed that I was nowhere near home.

    My mind drifted back to how the elder healer had mended the wound. Had she used magic? I didn¡¯t want to entertain that. It should be impossible, but I had seen nothing that suggested I was on Earth.

    I hurried to catch up to my ¡°guide,¡± not willing to risk the wrath of my escort. He had no reverence for the natural surroundings and walked at a quick clip towards a narrow gap between two other buildings that clustered near the one we had exited. I spent as much time as our pace allowed inspecting the buildings¡¯ walls.I needed more clues about the place I had ended up in.

    The walls definitely did not consist of prefab walls or whatever metal and composites were used in modern buildings. No, they had stacked logs, which totally made sense if the camp existed in a forest and in a time before the 1920¡¯s. Only one of those should be true, and¡­I chose to ignore that. The trees here had the height suited for construction.I slowed as I passed a break in some of the logs¡¯ spans. A window. I ran my hands along its base.Irregular, likely hand cut, and no glass.Instead, shutters made of many small planks hung on¡­leather straps.

    As soon as I passed the edge, I stole another glance at the front of the building. The design was similar, though on this side, the builder had cut a door instead of windows into the logs.Wood planks, regular in their cut, lined up to create a door.I found not a single gap.It would require a sawmill or someone skilled in carpentry to do that.Maybe the healer¡¯s building was an anomaly. Except why use whole logs then? I knew little of architecture, but they just seemed wasteful.

    The clusters of buildings sat at the beginning of a slight decline that overlooked much of the area between it and the cliff wall.

    ¡°No,¡± I whispered, stopping at the edge of the flat.

    The sight brought it all home. Before me laid a large portion of the mining camp, and they had nothing modern. No dump trucks. No excavators. No electrical wires.No smell of diesel or exhaust. Just clusters of wood buildings centered around a large gash in the cliff face. The mine¡ªif you could call it that¡ªwas so primitive.

    I worked to push down an unpleasant warmth rising from my stomach. I had to stop living in denial. This wasn¡¯t home. It wasn¡¯t even Earth. I knew humans¡ªor Humans¡ªexisted, but they weren¡¯t the only intelligent species. I would have to question everything I knew. I forced myself to reassess the place.

    First, the place was huge. Second, an impressive number of people walked into and out of the buildings and the mine entrance. Third, massive walls surrounded the place. Their technology was primitive, but keeping that number organized and fed spoke of significant coordination and skill. Then add constructing all these buildings without modern machinery¡­

    I eyed the walls.They stood at least a quarter the height of the surrounding trees. Except these trees towered over any I had ever seen at home. A few men walking the platform near the top let me hazard an estimate of the height. Nine, or maybe even ten, men. So, roughly forty-eight to sixty feet tall. That had to be tall for Earth standards, and this was an outpost, not a city. That didn¡¯t even include the two watch posts that towered over the walls.

    Why did they need¡ªnever mind, dinosaurs.

    They sure didn¡¯t take security lightly. Everything was manned. In our short walk, I passed three different pairs of wolfmen wearing similar armor, long knives at their belts, and bows in their hands. Bows¡ªnot rifles, not crossbows, but bows. Primitive, and yet not the Stone Age. Even in the middle of the day, the gate was closed, and there were no trees near the walls. If they built this place, they somehow could fend off dinosaur-like creatures that lived in this forest.

    I took a better look at the enforcer.I knew nothing about his armor, but his gear spoke of skilland care.It had needed a host of tools and resources to craft it. There was no way it could have been made here with what I was seeing.

    ¡°How many people are here?¡±

    Before I could blink, he spun around and had his hand around my throat. I coughed, then wheezed as he tightened his grip. He barely strained, but he had already clamped down on my blood supply. With each second, my face grew warmer, and a dull pressure built behind my eyes. I stared at him, unable to speak.

    He looked at me like I was a piece of trash. ¡°I will give you this reminder only once.You haven¡¯t earned the right to address me.¡±

    He tossed me backward.I stumbled and fell into the packed dirt. I gasped, welcoming the air back into my lungs.

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    He said nothing more as he turned and walked away.

    I picked myself up, suppressing a shiver. Just the cold breeze from the mountain. That¡¯s all.

    The cliff did leave a long shadow. The sun hadn¡¯t crested the edge, and it was already¡ªI checked my watch¡ªsome time in the morning. I sighed, wincing at the movement. I rubbed my neck. Did that really matter now? And would it even be accurate?

    I kept quiet for the rest of the walk. I didn¡¯t dare let too large a gap occur between the two of us. We finally arrived at our destination. Based on our angle, I had expected the large building or a cluster near it to be our destination. Standing in front of it, I had underestimated its size from the hill. It was easily three or four times the size of the largest building here. It rivaled small warehouse from home.

    The enforcer gave me no time to gawk. He pushed open the door, and saying nothing to me, walked inside. I started to ask if I should enter, before his last words popped into my mind. I shook my head and rubbed my neck. Better safe than sorry. Seeing as I was supposed to follow him, I walked towards the open door. As I entered, I glanced at the sign to the side of it. The script was strange, but somehow, I understood it. General Supply.

    <hr>

    I entered a new world as soon as I took a step into the building. I shot a quick glance backward to confirm where I had just come from. It didn¡¯t seem possible based on the other buildings. Just comparing it to one of them did a disservice to this structure. Everything here¡ªwalls, furniture, shelving¡ªwas finished. And probably more importantly, it had a floor, surprisingly stone rather than wood. Solid stone for that matter. On a cursory glance, I couldn¡¯t find a single joint or seam. It was too flat to be natural. Concrete? The color was off. Well laid tile? But the level of craftsmanship¡ª

    ¡°You done?¡±

    My head snapped towards the voice. Behind the main counter now stood a woman. She looked human, though her skin had a golden tone. It was unnatural. Wasn¡¯t there a medical cond¡ª

    A picture of a woman with unnaturally tanned skin with a caption flashed in my mind. Hemochromatosis - bronze diabetes: unexplained bronzing of the skin that presents with diabetes mellitus.

    ¡ªI shook my head at both the surprise of the sudden knowledge and its applicability to this woman. She appeared far too healthy. Her shoulders could match a linebacker¡¯s, and those arms¡­ Their size was made more impressive by the intricate tattoo that ran along her biceps, up her shoulder, across her chest, and down¡ª

    ¡°You¡¯ve better have gotten a good look.¡± My face grew warm as I yanked my eyes away from the diamond cutout in the center of her tunic. Let her just mean the room. "And just so there is no doubt, I earned every bit of that deep in the earth. So, don¡¯t you dare forget that when you have the inkling that I undersupplied your company. There is always a good reason. You got it?¡±

    I nodded, keeping my eyes glued to her face, which also had an intricate tattoo along her temple. Both healers, the enforcer, and now this lady all had them. How common were these things?

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear an answer.¡±

    ¡°I got it.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now shut my damn door.¡± As I did, she directed her attention back to the enforcer.By the look on her face, they were not friends. ¡°What did you bring me, Bloet?nn?"

    He answered her question. ¡°A new worker.¡±

    She snorted.¡°Not much of one. What level is he? He can''t be more than level 5?¡±

    He scoffed. ¡°Does it matter?¡±

    ¡°It does. It affects his starting kit. There is quite a difference in cost between the Tier I and II. Just to remind you, the cost always comes from your Alfa¡¯s purse no matter what. That includes life-debts.¡± He growled and looked me over, judging if I was worth the expenditure. ¡°By the way, you¡¯re losing your touch at guiding people through the forest?¡± Pointing at my dirty and tattered clothes, ¡°he looks damaged.¡±

    He bared his teeth and growled. To which, she just laughed. The warm, light-hearted sound filled the room and was in complete opposition to the Bloet?nn¡¯s hostile visage, which had turned downright deadly.

    ¡±You need to lighten up, Volk.¡±

    ¡°You will use my title, Quartermaster.¡±

    They stared at each other. The hairs on my skin stood up and my skin tingled as the air took on an electric quality. I had to take a step back as waves of anger radiated outward from the man with an almost physical pressure.

    What was going on?

    They kept at it. With each passing second, the pressure built, making it harder to breathe. Then the bronze-skinned woman behind the counter nodded her head, though her smile never vanished. ¡°Of course, Bloet?nn.¡±

    His stance didn¡¯t change, but the pressure suddenly vanished. ¡°I know who this is and where he was found. It''s not like we have any other Humans in this camp. ¡±I swallowed, a small hope crushed. I hadn¡¯t been doing well with the races I had met so far. ¡°So, what tier?¡±

    It took him effort to unclench his jaw. ¡°Keep him as a Tier 1.¡±

    ¡°Good call. Will he have a life debt?"

    "That and then some."

    ¡°A life debt.¡± She shook her head before looking at me. "I don''t know if you''re damned or lucky. And Tier 1 at that. Well, of all the places you ended up, this would be the one that you could pay it off. What class are you?"

    "[Physician]."

    ¡°Never heard of it."

    ¡°[Doctor]?¡± She shook her head. I sighed. ¡°I am a--" After before, [Healer] was not an option. ¡°I specialize in first-aid, non-magical procedures, and medicines." All true, but I cringed inwardly at my words. They trivialized my profession, but then again, so did magical healing.

    "Huh." She eyed me one more time. "I assume it''s a class favoring the Mind."

    I mustered all my confidence to hide my obvious ignorance. ¡°Yes.¡± Also, if that helped me avoid backbreaking labor¡­

    Then she tapped a knuckle on the counter. ¡°Not ideal, but we will take all the help we can get.¡± She looked at the Bloet?nn. "You can go. I can take it from here."

    "He has a life debt. The Alfa--"

    "Leaves the administration of the mine to me." The tone was as hard as iron. "While I don¡¯t agree with this life debt nonsense, I will abide by the agreement we have signed. He will earn his keep, but as you can see, he is not properly equipped. I will not throw away labor, no matter what the quality. He should be safe making his way to the company on his own unless you doubt your own security. No? Then this operation has better use of you than watching over my shoulder. The S?mdarskati will be cracking open a new seam. I had my [Miners] scout it. They think it will be rich, but there is a high chance that there is also a large cavern behind it. He is calling in non-?ttarsk companies, and I am authorizing access to higher-grade supplies. I think your Alfa would agree your talents are better off down there than here babysitting me.¡±

    They stood in silence. She had possibly insulted me, him, or both. By the way his jaw worked, he didn¡¯t seem sure either. However, he didn¡¯t say another word. He turned and stalked out.

    Damn, the women of this place are not to be trifled with.

 9. Everything has a Price

    ¡°By the Gods, he is a pain.Don¡¯t you dare try a stunt like that.You will be dead faster than you can blink.¡±I just nodded, not that I needed a reminder.My neck still smarted. She turned from the counter and headed towards a back door.¡°Why don¡¯t you come with me.I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I would get you equipped.¡±

    As she neared the end of the counter, she suddenly dropped so that only her head was visible. I hurried along but spared a quick glance.The entire section behind the counter was raised at least a foot.She wasn¡¯t tiny, but she was definitely short. I bet she barely broke five feet.Yet her stature didn¡¯t stop her from stacking on muscle.Robust would be an understatement.

    I was living in a fantasy novel.She wasn''t a prototypical dwarf, but she was close. How many more races were there? The lack of information was becoming dangerous.I didn¡¯t need another faux pas like this morning with Esper.

    ¡°Stand over there.¡± She pointed to wall with a measuring stick attached. ¡°Almost 3 units tall.Spread your arms.¡±She looked down at a set of marks on the floor. ¡°About one unit.¡±She just eyed my arms.¡°Flex your arm.¡±She eyed a measuring tape then shook her head muttering something under her breath. She tapped her chin. ¡°You are too tall for a typical Volkski grunt, but you might fit into a garb we keep for ?ttarsk women.Those greenskins are tall and slender like you.¡±

    I laughed.¡°Slender?¡±I wasn¡¯t ripped, but I did work out some.

    She snorted.¡°I have seen children just breaking their tenth year with more muscle than you.And that was before they started working the mine.¡±

    I shut my mouth.Her forearms were bigger than my biceps.

    She rubbed the fabric of my white coat with her fingers.¡°I can get you a whole new set.It will cost far more than this one, but it will be less if you are willing to trade.¡±

    ¡°Cost me?¡±

    ¡°And by the look of you, you aren¡¯t from around here.¡±

    I shook my head.¡°No.I am far from home.¡±

    ¡°I bet.And I take it that you don¡¯t know about life debts.¡°

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I do.Though I don¡¯t like the sound of them.¡±

    ¡°Smart.¡±She pointed to a chair, and I took her invitation.¡°I am sure you have a story.Unfortunately, you won¡¯t have time to tell it to me.I can¡¯t interfere with the stupidity of the greenskins and furballs¡±¡ªmy eyes must have widened, but she quickly corrected herself¡ª¡°excuse me, ?ttir and Volki. This contract is too lucrative even if¡ª¡°She waved it off.

    ¡°As I said, I can¡¯t tell if you are blessed or cursed.Somehow you survived a ride down the ?tertorento¡ªthat is the river we found you in, by the way. You lived, but now you owe the Pack your life.You can buy it off.Normally a Tier 1¡¯s life¡ªwhich you don¡¯t need to confirm¡ªis cheap.Even in the worst company, you could pay it off in a week.However, you had the misfortune to have exhausted a [Healer] when her skills were needed most, at least that is what the Pack administrators will claim.¡±

    ¡°Claim?What actually happened?¡±

    ¡°What actually happened was a greenskin mining group got greedy.They opened a seam without support and paid the price.One of their groups got injured.He was on the mend, but he took a turn for the worst.The ?ttarsk [Healer] tried to stabilize him, but she was tapped because¡ª¡°

    ¡°Wait.¡±It had to be her, but I had to be sure.¡°The [Healer] that you are referencing is¡ª¡±

    ¡°The half-breed?¡±

    Suddenly, reasons for her reaction started to make more sense.¡°I have a feeling she doesn¡¯t like being called that.¡±The bronze-skinned woman just smirked in response.¡°Anyway, I was going to say Esper or half-?ttar [Healer].¡±

    Her laugh again filled the room.

    I furrowed my borrow.¡°What did I say?¡±

    ¡°You sure are respectful for a Human, but both would have gotten you in trouble.Unlike me, you haven¡¯t earned the right to her name, and she feels that she is ?ttar, even if they won¡¯t fully accept her.But back to my point.You had taxed her.She healed him, but not fully.He was looking better, but I found this deteriorated this morning.¡±

    ¡°And I owe the Pack for an ?ttar?¡±

    ¡°Yes.Typically, you would owe the ?ttir for the loss of work or life, but they collectively owe the Pack.So, you take on his debt to them.Of course, that isn¡¯t even the half of it.You see, the ?ttarsk [Healers] have to render aid to the Pack when their [Healers] are unavailable.That same day, a Volk needed healing¡ªnot that he had any chance of survival.Esper wasn¡¯t capable, and her master couldn¡¯t come in time.Normally, that would have been fine, but when they found out it was because she had been healing you, well¡­let¡¯s just say that the Pack always gets its pound of flesh.¡±

    ¡°So, I am responsible for him too?Even if he was going to die anyways?¡±

    ¡°Yes, because the Pack can.¡±

    I stared blankly at her.How could this get worse?I somehow woke up in what had to be some type of indentured servitude.

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    She nodded. ¡°A stupid system if you ask me.We Oresiani don¡¯t abide by it, and therefore, we aren¡¯t beholden to it.It may cost us our lives when we fight with a Warband or a Pack, but I would rather be dead than beholden.Unfortunately for you, Humans in this part seem to be okay with it¡­¡±

    I cocked my head.¡°But I heard you say that you are overseeing this operation.If you Oresiani don¡¯t abide life debts, isn¡¯t that a bit--¡±

    I bit off my response before I could offend another person, but she just waved me off.¡±Hypocritical?You can say it.In some people¡¯s eyes it is, though I don¡¯t agree with that sentiment. We are in the Wilds, not Oresian lands.And, more importantly, there are riches to be had.This expedition wouldn¡¯t exist without a few sacrifices.¡±

    I eyed the woman warily.I lacked the details, but nothing about this system sounded benign.¡°Right.Do I have any other options?¡±

    ¡°You could defeat the Alfa and dissolve the pack.¡±

    I clenched my teeth.She found joking with my life far too enjoyable.But I would put up with that sardonic smile if only because she continued to help, which I needed.This reception sucked, but I hadn¡¯t experienced better since waking up on this blasted world.

    ¡°Who keeps track of what I owe?

    ¡°The Alfa and his [Bookkeepers].However, no one is leaving here anytime soon without his agreement.Therefore, they handed the responsibility over to me. Your wages will be deducted against your total. If you find a vein of value, then you will earn a cut of its value. I would caution against trying to do that alone. That¡¯s what got the other greenskin in trouble. Not to mention,¡±pointing at my reflex hammer still tucked in my white coat¡¯s buttonholes, ¡°you may struggle with that hammer of yours.¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s not what this is used--¡±

    She snickered, and I couldn¡¯t help but let out a small laugh.It felt good.

    She gave me her first genuine smile.¡°Don¡¯t lose that humor.It will take you far with Oresiani.¡±She nodded to my hammer, ¡°But really, you should really leave that at home.No Oresian will take you seriously, especially not the women.¡±

    I just rolled my eyes.

    She laughed again before slapping her leg.¡°Now let¡¯s get down to business.¡±

    A serious expression came over her.Apparently, our friendly chat was over.¡°I will issue you a wool sweater, but I think you will be wishing for a heavier coat than what you are wearing in the mine and at night.That will cost you unless,¡± she nodded at my chest, ¡°you would be willing to part with your current one.¡±

    I looked down at my white coat and scrubs. The coat really was in a sorry state. Trading them was probably the right move, but I had earned this coat through years of school.Perhaps more importantly, these clothes were all I had left of home. ¡°Will the offer be open later if I want it?¡°

    ¡°Yes, as long as they aren''t more damaged than a [Tailor] can easily repair.¡±

    ¡°Then I am going to keep them for now.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.Wait here, and I will get your gear.¡± She exited through another door at the back of the room.

    I sat waiting, eyes wandering around the room. It was really well done. My eyes stopped on a mining pickaxe hanging on the wall.I had never seen metal with that hue.I stood up and walked closer to better examine it.

    Was that wood?I leaned in, inches from the tip of the pick.The material was dark black, but those were definitely grains running along the surface.That had to be wood.The pick was banded with metal engraved with intricate runes that had a subtle glimmer.Was this a prototype?This wasn¡¯t a game.The wood would shatter on rock. I reached up to touch the tip but held back.

    ¡°Impressive, isn¡¯t it?¡±I twirled around at her voice.¡°Hard not to want to touch it.You can if you want.¡±It was tempting, but this pickaxe was special.Nothing else hung on the wall.It felt like a step I had not yet earned.When I held off, she nodded, as if I passed some hidden test.¡°It has been in my family for generations.It has unearthed more riches than many clans combined.I barely had the levels to wield it properly, though I have more hope with the next generation.¡±

    She tossed me my sweater and dropped a pair of boots on the floor by my chair.¡°Go ahead and put them on.I haven¡¯t had [Appraise] fail on me yet, but it¡¯s always better safe than sorry.¡±

    I pulled the sweater over my head.I moved my arms, raising them above my head.Plenty of room.Itchy, but it would be warm.¡°It fits.¡±

    She pointed to the boots before moving to grab a quill from a desk across the room.I sat on the floor and slid each boot on.

    ¡°How do they fit?¡±

    I stood up and took a few steps.They weren¡¯t sneakers, but they were comfortable enough.Nothing pinched, and my toes didn¡¯t feel squished.¡°Surprisingly comfortable.¡±

    She wrote as she spoke. ¡°I doubt these will live up to your typical standards.You have an eye for quality.It¡¯s best to keep your comments about what is lacking to yourself.Not all races value craftsmanship.¡±Had I been that obvious? She finished writing with a flourish. She took a piece of paper and folded it over.She reached for a drawer, opening it and pulling out a knife with a short,dark-silver metal blade.¡°This will suffice for now.I worry about your ability to put an edge on the standard issue ones when it matters.You can grab a belt with a scabbard on the way out.¡±She handed me the blade.¡°With that, you are set.I hope I don¡¯t have to tell you not to shirk your debt.¡±I shook my head.¡°Good. I have work to catch up on, and I have spent enough time babysitting.¡±

    Her tone was far too warm to be annoyed.¡°Thanks¡­uh¡­¡±

    She came to my rescue. ¡°Quartermaster will do.¡±

    ¡°Is your name also something I have to earn?¡± She gave me another sardonic smile.I waited, but she still didn¡¯t supply a name.¡°Alright then.I do appreciate all the help you have given me.It seems kindness is in short supply around here.¡±

    ¡°And everywhere else, but I didn¡¯t lie when I said that I don¡¯t send men down unprepared.Unfortunately, you are less prepared than most, and there is only so much I can do to mitigate that.¡±She handed me the folded letter.¡°When you get to the mine, ask for Dorian.The guards there will point you to the right company.Once you find Dorian, give him this.¡± I nodded as I memorized her instructions.¡°And later, if you want to thank me, I imagine you have quite an interesting story behind your arrival here.¡± She tapped the end of my sleeve right on the location where my watch sat on my wrist. ¡°That might be worth something to some people.¡±

    My eyes widened, and her eyes twinkled at my surprise.I must have revealed it when getting dressed.It was just a watch, a nice one by Earth standards.Which made it what here?An artifact?What if she had seen my pager?

    I said nothing more than a small thanks and saw myself out, the entire time questioning my positive initial opinion.She had poked fun at a man that almost casually snapped my neck.She was powerful, and you didn¡¯t get that way by being stupid.She also was¡­let¡¯s just say, morally flexible.I could not underestimate her.

 10. Enter the Mine I

    I easily found the entrance to the mine. A large gash in the cliffside that reached far above the height of any of the buildings marked the entrance. However, as I approached, the size of the entrance tunnel surprised me.It was a fraction of what I had expected.The gash was actually a shadow made by an indentation in the cliff.Based on the large boulders on the ground, some of the cliff face must have given way some time in the past.If not for the optical illusion, I doubt the entrance would have been found.The actual opening was quite small, just enough for two people to walk side by side, and no taller than twelve feet.I expected guards but found none.

    Before entering the mine, I took one more look back at the camp and the tall walls that ringed it.The Quartermaster¡¯s warning rattled in my head.I had no choice.

    ¡°I have not been in a situation like this before,¡± I whispered to myself. It would be just like the match for residency. I had to go where it told me to work endless hours. I hung my head at the false equivalency. This was going to be far worse. There were no machines, no labor laws. This would be backbreaking labor on a scale far beyond anything that I had experienced before.

    I took a deep breath and entered the small tunnel. The corridor was poorly lit, but a light, bright and white without a hint of flickering, shone from around a slight turn to the right. I exited the tunnel, entered a large cavern, and took in its majesty. It was huge, far larger than the opening would have suggested. It had to be completely natural. It was too similar to other large caves I had explored on various trips in the past. Unfortunately, that also meant it included a pervasive cold, damp air. I pulled my coat tight, already regretting the lack of a heavier jacket.

    I had barely made it halfway across the cavern when a Volk broke away from a group standing near wooden palisades. Their positioning was strange. They seemed to be guarding the exits to the cavern rather than its entrance.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± barked the approaching Volk. ¡°It isn¡¯t time for a shift change.¡±

    I stopped and raised my hands.The Volk was geared in a similar manner as the guards outside.While he didn¡¯t move with deadly grace of the Bloet?nn, he had the build and manner of a veteran warrior, and I couldn¡¯t help but notice his hand sitting on the handle of a rather long blade. ¡°The Quartermaster sent me here. I was told to ask for Dorian.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see a bag for delivery.¡±

    ¡°I am here for mining.¡±

    ¡°You?¡± He sneered, but when I didn¡¯t say anything more, he added, ¡°I doubt you will last the day.¡± Still, he relaxed his grip and pointed towards one of the smaller exits on the far left of the cavern. ¡°He will be that way with the rest of the greenskins. If you are lucky, you will catch them on break.¡±

    He didn¡¯t say anything more.I knew a dismissal when I saw one. His was almost as good as my first ICU attending¡¯s.I didn¡¯t bother to say thanks. He would likely interpret it in some way to run me through.I just walked towards the passage entrance, trying to ignore the repeated prediction of my quick death. Though, I did eye his sword one more time. Was that hilt wood?

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    Wooden carts, full and empty, as well as piles of stone littered the ground near the mouth of the tunnel. I kept expecting to see rails leading from the entrance for the carts, but instead there was a smooth path the width of a cart cut into the stone.

    I entered a tunnel leading from the exit. Stones similar to what I had seen in the hosp¡ªhealer¡¯s lodge¡ªlit its length. I ran my fingers against the tunnel¡¯s wall.The damp stone leeched the warmth from my fingertips, but I kept moving them along it.It was unnatural in its regularity. It had to have been cut.I reached down to the floor, finding little difference. I may as well have been walking on a freshly paved sidewalk. It did make it easy to navigate, but how had they done it? They didn¡¯t have machines, and the edges were so smooth.

    I exited into a well-lit cavern and came to an immediate halt when a green giant suddenly blocked my path. I found it hard not to take a step back.

    ¡°State your business, Human.¡±

    I tried to speak, but I couldn¡¯t. Unlike the guards in the entrance cavern, he carried no weapon, wore no armor, but he didn¡¯t need them, not when his heavily muscled body stretched over a foot above my own.

    He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. ¡°Your business.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI was told I could find Dorian this way,¡± and for good measure, ¡°the Quartermaster sent me.¡±

    ¡°We asked for more help, and this is what we get? Human trash? ¡±He spat and then walked off without answering me.

    I stood there at a complete loss for words. He had just left, but I didn¡¯t dare pester him for more information. From the back, he was even more monstrous. A foot on me was being conservative. He had at least one and a half on me with another three feet in his shoulders. If his tunic wasn¡¯t sleeveless, I would have sworn he had tree trunks for arms. He had muscles on muscles, and each one seemed adorned by a complicated tattoo.

    ¡°Did someone call my name?¡±

    A far shorter man walked from behind the corner.He had the same short, stocky build and bronze skin as the Quartermaster. He walked with an eagerness and a genuine smile that lit up his face. However, when he caught sight of me, his smile faltered. Or had that been a trick of the shadows? He continued walking towards me, smile undimmed.

    ¡°Welcome.¡±

    He reached out an arm in greeting, and some of the tension in my shoulders drained at his jovial attitude and warm greeting. I gripped his hand, giving small thanks that at least someone else in this place didn¡¯t hate me for just existing. He gave me an odd expression. Had I shaken hands wrong? However, his eyes never left my face. Ultimately, he returned the shake, whatever possible faux pas forgotten .

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know we were getting another company of Humans. Did you come with the Alfa?¡°

    ¡°Neither.¡±He raised an eyebrow, but I didn¡¯t explain.It was enough that the nature of my circumstance was not universal.¡°And you are Dorian, right?¡±

    ¡°Sure am. How can I help?¡±

    ¡°It is my¡­first day here.¡±

    ¡°Why are you here and not with the rest of your crew?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªhere.¡± I held out the letter. ¡°I was told to give this to you.¡±

    He took it and looked me over instead of reading the letter. ¡°First day? And you are here with us? With that gear?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I should lodge a complaint on your behalf.¡± He paused. ¡°Unless you did something to piss off the old crone.¡±

    I wanted to ask, ¡°which one?¡± but instead replied, ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    He harrumphed but said nothing more as he opened the letter. His brow furrowed as he read it. ¡°Oh. I take that back. She might actually have taken a shine to you¡­if that is possible. Still, she should have done more.¡¯ He spat in disgust. ¡°A life debt. Nasty stuff. But I can see why you are here.¡± He clapped his broad hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I suppressed a grimace as bones and tendons popped, but he didn¡¯t notice. The man had a grip like an iron vise, and he was being gentle. ¡°I will get you sorted. I promise it will be a better reception than I am sure you have had.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t be worse.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°A sense of humor. By the Gods, I¡¯ve missed that. These gree¡ª?ttir have none. Okay. Let¡¯s get you equipped. Follow me.¡±

 11. Enter the Mine II

    He led me around the corner. As we walked, our conversation was punctuated by the sounds of crumbling stone. ¡°Have you mined before?¡± Before I could say a word, he added, ¡°Don¡¯t answer that. With that hammer of yours, you couldn¡¯t even chip off a flake.¡±

    I let out a small laugh while shaking my head. ¡°As I told the Quartermaster, it isn¡¯t for mining.¡±

    ¡°Ha! How am I not surprised that she took the opportunity to rib you. At least I know you ain¡¯t the type to overcompensate to impress all the ladies.¡± He raised the pickaxe, sized for his frame, off his shoulder. It would have fit me fine, though an ?ttar would have found it comically small. ¡°Better to let my skill speak for itself.¡± He jutted his hips forward, and I suppressed a groan. Just how old was he? However, snickering, he continued, ¡°though, you might want to at least try a bit because size does matter. Trust me. I should know.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t hold my groan back any longer. ¡°What? Are you going to tell me that you might be short, but it is the width that matters?¡±

    He cocked his head. ¡°Heard that one, have you?¡±

    I rolled my eyes, ignoring his disappointment. He was worse than the jocks I avoided in high school. Maybe I had pissed off the Quartermaster if she had stuck me with him. ¡°I had hoped never to hear it again¡­¡± I stopped short after the turn. ¡°Are they all that big?¡±

    ¡°No. I am special among the Oresiani.¡± He laughed as I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. He clapped my back. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You will grow to love me, but I assume you mean the ?ttir?¡±

    The small cavern was filled with ?ttir.Some were sitting drinking from a water pouch. Others were chipping away at a wall with pickaxes. However, they were all huge.

    I kept an eye on them as we walked. It was easier to hear him than I had expected. Even in the enclosed space, there were no pings of metal on stone¡ªjust a thump and quiet rumble of stone falling to the ground.

    He pointed to one at least a head taller than I. ¡°He is on the smaller side here, but in reality, he is about average ?ttar.¡± He must have seen my surprise because he added, ¡°They aren¡¯t the norm. You are seeing a select population. These guys are the elite of their tribes¡ªwarriors in a warband. They have all fought and bled for the honor.¡±

    ¡°Does that earn them some special respect?¡±

    ¡°It is like you have never met an ?ttar before.¡±He paused again waiting for a response I didn¡¯t provide. ¡°And yes, it does. Don¡¯t impugn their honor.It means everything to ?ttir, but especially to those chosen for battle. They are fearsome stock. Though,¡± his voice dropped to a whisper, ¡°they have a weakness just like all their brethren.¡± He paused, eyes flitting between the groups of ?ttir, making sure none were watching us. He let the moment stretch as if to honor the gravity of the secret he would soon tell. ¡°Their humor. They have none.¡± He threw up his free arm in mock frustration.

    My face just scrunched in confusion as I processed the ridiculousness of his statement. He just laughed at my reaction. I shook my head, but I couldn¡¯t help but smile. He noticed, a warmth remaining in his face as his laughter ended.

    ¡°It really is terrible. I have tried so hard.¡± He sighed in mock resignation. ¡°It¡¯s not something I think I can fix. But...your lack of gear I can.¡±

    He waved me forward, and we continued along a different wall until we approached a small tunnel tucked into the back corner of this room. On one side, the stone in the cavern wall flowed into the entrance. On the other, a smooth, straight line cut into the stone. It went back a few feet, enlarging the passage such that an ?ttar could walk, maybe even run, through it without ducking.

    I took one last look at the mining crew before we entered another tunnel with the same smooth walls as the last one. They carried simple hand tools that should be incapable of accomplishing tasks involving precision cutting. Yet somehow, they did.

    Another question popped into my mind. ¡°I see only ?ttir. Where are the others?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Like that would happen. You won¡¯t find any Volki or Oresiani here,¡± except apparently him. ¡°No, there is a reason you are here. They all owe a life debt just like you. I had thought they had no chance of paying it off¡ªy¡¯know not being [Miners] and all¡ªbut they could put some of the lesser Oresian mining companies to shame.¡±

    He pointed to an ?ttar with his hammer raised on the other side of the cavern. The ?ttar grunted, and then his tunic¡ªno something under that¡ªglowed red. The color faded as quickly as it had appeared only to flow down his arms to his hands. At the end of the swing, the pickaxe glowed red. It struck the wall with a dull thud.

    I froze at the result.The dust quickly settled, leaving a small crater where the pick had impacted the wall and a small pile of rubble at the ?ttir feet.

    Dorian just gave me a friendly clap on the shoulder like it was the most normal thing. And, to him it probably was. ¡°See what I mean.Here is your first tip, one I didn¡¯t appreciate until I saw it with my own eyes: don¡¯t underestimate how effective skills like [Sunder] and [Piercing Strike] can be on stone when one has the right tool.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    We entered the tunnel, walking its short length until reaching a smaller room. He stepped out of the way to let me in. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get you geared up.¡± He gestured to a rack lined with pickaxes. His eyes twinkled as he continued, ¡°take your pick, and yup, pun intended.¡±

    Puns¡­

    I let out a soft groan, and he just chuckled.

    Yes. I must have pissed off the Quartermaster. Though, I would be lying to myself if I said I didn¡¯t enjoy it. Sure, my sense of humor ran darker¡ªhard not to have a penchant for gallows humor in my profession, but at the same, in a world so alien and cold, this, a friendly back and forth, I knew.

    I took in the assortment of gear I stood before. While other tools besides pickaxes lined the shelves and racks, they were the most numerous. I ran my fingers on the pick. Cold, dark. Nothing like what I would expect steel to look. Iron?

    ¡°What should I be looking for?¡±

    ¡°You? Nothing more than if you can lift it. Those are all about the right size for you.¡±

    I hefted one by its wooden handle and almost proceeded to drop it. Way too heavy, and definitely not steel. I moved past a few others, testing each one.

    I stopped in front of one that differed from the rest. The material making up the head of the pickaxe had a tinge of brown, more ebony than dark black. The two bands of iron wrapped around the middle of halves of the head only accentuated the difference between the two materials. I lifted it up. It took some effort, but at least I could manage it. It had to weigh no more than half of the others. I ran my finger along the banded material. Smooth and not cold to the touch. It didn¡¯t make sense, and to confirm my suspicion, I tilted it so a face caught the light. Squinting, I inspected the edge and found faint, wavy lines.

    ¡°Is that wood?¡±

    ¡°Yep, and you¡¯re lucky one of its kind is available, though it is most likely wasted on you. Good eye though. Probably the best pickaxe left of the bunch.¡±

    Best one? How? The tips weren¡¯t even shod with metal. The wood would shatter or crack with any significant hit.

    ¡°What? You don¡¯t believe me? You picked out that pickaxe, but somehow you also have bought into the garbage Human [Miners] likely to tell each other?¡± He picked up the pickaxe and pointed to the joint between the handle and blade. ¡°The junction at the eye is damaged. Probably only get thirty percent efficiency.¡± He pointed a thumb back at the other pickaxes. ¡°It is still better than those dead weights even if we weren¡¯t in the Wilds.¡± Now it was his turn to roll his eyes in incredulity at my skepticism. ¡°You still don¡¯t believe me? Well, I can prove it to you pretty easily.¡±

    He grabbed an iron pickaxe with the ease that I would my reflex hammer. With a pickaxe in each hand, he headed to a wall.He put down the iron-clad pickaxe, lifting the solid iron one. He gave it a practice swing.

    ¡°This reminds me of the days before my Awakening.¡± He hefted the pickaxe and put the point against the wall, signaling the target of his strike. ¡°I am only going to drop half my strength into the strike, otherwise I am not sure if it will survive the blow.¡±

    Before I could process the ludicrousness of his statement, the pickaxe blurred. I only knew the strike had occurred by the shower of rocks from the wall and loud clang that reverberated throughout the small cavern as the shards pinged of the metal tools and stone walls.

    Dorian, unperturbed, dusted off his forearms. ¡°Damn. Might have overdone it a bit.¡± He twirled the pickaxe to take a better look at it. The once sharp point was now flattened. ¡°Well, nothing that a [Metalsmith] can¡¯t fix.¡±

    He picked up the other pickaxe and waved me back. He tapped the pick on a section of the wall. ¡°Now,¡± he didn¡¯t bother looking back, ¡°same level of empowerment without any additional skills. Also, you might want to stand back.¡±

    I hustled back a few steps and waited. I didn¡¯t dare blink, at least not until a blur streaked with crimson unleashed plume of a dust that billowed outward to encompass the entire room. I coughed as I sucked it in.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Dorian¡¯s voice came from behind a wall of dust. ¡±I suppressed all the skills to prove a point. Let me reinstate [Suppress Dust].¡±

    Instantly all the motes fell from the air like rain. I gasped as much at that feat as what the falling dust uncovered. He had blown a damn crater in the wall.

    It shouldn¡¯t have been possible. I rushed over to touch it. I had to confirm it with more than my eyes. I ran my fingers along the concave surface that extended inward by feet. The second crater dwarfed the size of the one made by the iron pickaxe. Everything was the same except the pickaxe¡­and the red arc that accompanied the strike. .

    Dorian walked up to me. ¡°Yeah, overdid it a bit. Should have done the whole thing at 25%. Don¡¯t worry about the wall. It will hold. Might make it easier to expand this place if we needed it. So, does this convince you?¡± He lifted the pickaxe before my eyes. ¡°And take a look at the point. It even withstood the strike better.¡±

    The tip was pristine. No cracks. No chips.It didn¡¯t show any signs of wear.

    Dorian pointed to the floor below the two impact sites. ¡°Do you notice?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t, but now that he showed me, the second crater had only a small layer of rubble on the ground.

    ¡°You pulverized all that stone to dust?¡±

    ¡°Yep. You get all that power without having to constantly repair your tools. Plus, it is so much quieter.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t even noticed, but he was right. Despite the power of the strike, there had only been a thud. ¡°If the wood is better, why does it even have the metal on it?

    ¡°Production cost and durability, primarily. The head was made with multiple pieces of wood. It diminishes the efficiency, but it is much cheaper. The iron bands keep them together better than any glue, which will help with efficiency. They also protect the head from splintering with a mistimed strike. Plus, the weight is useful for certain skills.¡± He picked up the damaged pickaxe. ¡°Now let¡¯s get you one that will work.¡±

    Eyeing the iron-clad pickaxe he was still holding, ¡°Not that one?¡±

    ¡°Ha! I said it would be wasted on you, and I wasn¡¯t kidding. There is no way you have control of your Energy yet.¡±

    Condescension was becoming a fast friend, one I wanted to get rid of. Clearly, I was missing something fundamental. I needed more information. I feigned anger. ¡°How do you know?¡±

    He laughed again and tapped his head. ¡°Not like you are trying to hide your Mark. I¡¯ve been in enough fights as a teen to know what early level Marks look like. Your class must favor the Mind, and you can¡¯t be over level 5. It would be rare for you to learn to manipulate Energy.

    ¡°But I could.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but the true giveaway is your hands. They are as plain as the day you were born. You don¡¯t have any channels there.¡± He perused the rack until he found me another pickaxe. ¡°You might want to consider getting some gloves. You have the look of someone¡­sheltered, and the ?ttir don¡¯t take kindly to that. That is without you being Human.¡±

    He held out the new axe by the end of the handle. Despite the weight, the head didn¡¯t quiver a bit, and he showed no sign of strain. Just how strong was he?

    I grabbed under the head and pulled. It didn¡¯t move an inch. I cocked my head, waiting for an explanation.

    ¡°A human below level 5 here in this camp with a life debt. I am sure there is a story there.¡± We stared at each other, seconds ticking away until he finally let go. ¡°That is fair. I would be guarded too. However, I think you will find a friend in me, and,¡± a huge grin broke out over his face, ¡°I can offer drinks when you are ready.¡±

    I prepared to heft the pickaxe onto my shoulder when a strange sound echoed from the cavern¡¯s entrance. Was that shouting¡­or perhaps chanting?

    Dorian must''ve heard it too. "Those jerks." He grabbed the iron-clad pickaxe and rushed towards the tunnel.

 12. Fights & Potions I

    Not knowing what else to do, I followed after him. In the next cavern, the cheering had turned into screeches.

    Dorian stopped at the edge of the tunnel and turned his head back to speak. ¡°They went after a seam without telling us. We need to get at least one kill, or they can claim we shouldn''t get a cut. Stay close to me and try to finish off what I don¡¯t kill.¡±

    Kill? What the hell? Did monsters exist in here too?

    In the back of my mind, something clicked. All the guards faced towards the tunnels into the mines. I swallowed, my grip tightening on my pickaxe.

    The screeching grew louder, and Dorian rushed forward only to skid to a stop. ?ttir now filled the near empty cave. They formed two loose lines: one around a new hole in the cavern wall and the other in front of the exit to the main cavern. In the black of the newly opened tunnel, red eyes appeared. Two. Six. Twelve. I lost count as the number kept increasing. The shrieks found a new level as slender dark shapes burst from the hole.

    Dark as the shadow they came from, the throng of monsters exited as a seamless, black wave. They shrieked as they flowed toward the closest ?ttarsk line. The ?ttir roared in response. Pickaxes became blurs and arcs of red as the wave slammed into the defenders. The monsters let out shrill cries of pain as crimson arcs cut through the black wave.

    It was over in seconds, leaving dozens of dead bodies, some cut in half, and blood and offal spread across the cavern floor. The ?ttir slaughtered the first wave.

    A cheer rang out, but Dorian had already skidded to a stop. ¡°They¡¯re also damn fools too.¡±

    As we closed on the ?ttarsk line, I caught my first glimpse of the attacking creatures. The rodent-like creatures the size of small dogs littered the floor. Large gashes leaked dark blood. Some twitched in death throes. Thank goodness they were dead. Creatures like that shouldn¡¯t exist, not with those long, curved claws and long fangs.

    A louder shriek erupted from the tunnel. Ten, then twenty, then¡ªI stepped back as a wall of red dots appeared in the darkness of the tunnel.

    Dorian stepped in front of me. ¡°Be ready to fall back to the tunnel to the supply room. This swarm might be too much.¡±

    A black tide burst from the hole and crashed into the ?ttir.Crimson streaks and arcs filled the air. The ?ttir moved faster than I could follow, but the tide didn¡¯t abate. The rodents clambered over each other to get to the ?ttir that had disturbed their home.

    Dorian moved up to join, but I couldn''t. My feet wouldn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Incoming Whirlwind,¡± came a yell from the ?ttarsk line.

    As one, the rest of the ?ttir stepped back while one rushed forward into the dark mass of fangs and claws. Rodents jumped onto his body, but he shrugged them off as if those sharp claws could not rend flesh. As with the other ?ttar, his tunic started to glow red. However, his kept getting brighter until a pattern became apparent. Then the light suddenly vanished as it flowed to his arms and legs.

    His whole body blurred. A single arc became multiple. The stands of light wove together until the ?ttar was in the center of a crimson vortex. Shrieks from the dying and wounded creatures created an unholy cacophony, and yet the wave didn¡¯t end.

    The beasts spilled past him. The ?ttir that had stepped back tried to stop what broke through, but they couldn¡¯t get them all.

    A black rodent spied easier prey: me. It broke past the line of ?ttir rushing me.I stood frozen, still in shock by the situation. It leapt towards me. It opened its mouth revealing long, sharp fangs. I willed my body to move, but fear held me tight.

    I was going to die.

    A streak of red flashed before my eyes.Warm drops splattered across my face.

    ¡°What are you doing? Move!¡±

    Dorian¡¯s voice jolted me to action. I started to step back, but I was too slow. Another two beasts had broken through the ranks. It took them a fraction of a second to spot me. Those pairs of beady, red eyes locked on to me as if I was a damn magnet. They covered the distance between us far too fast. They pounced expecting an easy kill. I had barely raised an arm in a vain attempt at defense.

    Another red arc flashed in front of my eyes as Dorian again came to my rescue.My body in the way, the upward cut was awkward, the angle, off. It ended one of the beasts, but only clipped the other.

    The black-furred rodent hissed in fury. It jumped at the source of its injury. Even with one of its front legs removed, it still found purchase on Dorian¡¯s right arm. A grunt let me know what his action had cost him. Yet, he still somehow grabbed the snarling beast and slammed it to the ground.

    ¡°Finish it. We have more coming. ¡±He didn¡¯t even bother to look.

    My heart thudded in my chest. I had just stared death in the face and lived¡­because of Dorian.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    He needed my help.

    I embraced the adrenaline surging in my veins, letting it wipe away my fear. I willed my legs forward until I stood before the monster. Dazed from being slammed into the ground, the rodent didn¡¯t move. I screamed as I put in every iota of frustration and anger at my situation into my downward blow. My pick missed its target, its neck, but it still bit into its torso. The rodent jerked, then spasmed before going still.

    I had killed it. I had killed¡ª

    I forced down a nauseating warmth. This was no different than any emergency. Focus now, process later.

    I followed after Dorian. We weren¡¯t retreating after all, and he was more successful in fending off the monsters when fear no longer paralyzed me. Most died in one strike. Those that didn¡¯t, he left to me. I finished those I could, though many died before I got to them. It became clear that he was coddling me, leaving me only the most grievously wounded. I wasn¡¯t offended. My adrenaline could only carry me so far. The pickaxe grew heavier with each swing, and not just from the weight of the tool.

    I had never killed. I had never even hunted. I had never before realized that carnage had distinct smells. I had always wanted to heal, not harm. I¡ª

    I needed to process later. This wasn¡¯t Earth. These could only be monsters. I had a good look each time I ripped the pickaxe out of one of those things. What else could they be? Those claws, those fangs were designed to tear flesh and to kill.

    I doubted that I would feel much remorse after this was over, but even so, I couldn¡¯t do a job where this was the norm. I became a doctor for a reason.

    It took me a second to realize why Dorian had set his pickaxe on the ground. He wasn¡¯t the only one. Across the cavern, the ?ttir had also relaxed. We were done. We had survived and avoided any serious inju¡ª

    ¡°Dorian!¡± I dropped my pickaxe and rushed over to him. ¡°Your back.¡± Blood had soaked through the shredded tunic over his right shoulder. I cursed. He had been injured because of me. Otherwise, nothing had come even close to touching him. ¡°Take off your shirt. I need to see the wound.¡±

    He removed it without flinching. Four lacerations and two puncture wounds. Not as deep as I would have expected based on the length of the monsters¡¯ fangs, but he would still need stitches. When was the last time I had sutured a wound? Years. That didn¡¯t matter.I had enough practice during my surgical year. Suturing would be like riding a bike. The muscle memory should remain¡­

    I winced as a surge of information flooded my brain: hold pressure, irrigate the wound, apply antibiotic, suture. 4-0 Vicryl would work especially if paired with a horizontal mattress over a running stitch. Lidocaine would work for...

    I blinked, processing the knowledge. What was that? I now knew with crystal clarity the exact steps to properly clean and close a wound. It was textbook. If I had this back at home, I would never have doubted myself. However, now it just highlighted my uselessness. What good was a doctor without tools?

    The Quartermaster¡¯s words repeated in my head, ¡°I never send a man unprepared.¡±

    Except she did.

    No.That wasn¡¯t fair.She had warned me of danger.

    I took a deep breath.Time to forget recriminations. I had a patient to take care of, and I had nothing, not even a¡ª

    ¡°Give me that shirt. It¡¯s not ideal. It¡¯s not even clean, but it will work as a bandage. If you can¡¯t hold pressure, I think we can use my coat to tie it tight. You guys have sutures or something to stitch up the wound? I can get them if you tell me where.¡±

    ¡°What are you going on about? These are nothing. We just got a batch of healing potions this week with the last supply run. I am good, and I doubt anyone got seriously injured. We will have enough to go around. Even as a horde, terrorvoles are just a nuisance,¡± he chuckled, ¡°unless of course you are under level 5 or taken by surprise. Though, I will give it to the ?ttir. They know how to fight. That went far easier than I had expected.¡± He fished something out of his pocket. ¡°You mind dabbing a bit on my cuts?¡± He shrugged and rolled his injured shoulder. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel bad enough to need to drink it.¡±

    I took the tube with a stopper in it from his hand.He turned back around, and I had a good look at the wounds. They were large. They should have been life threatening, but they were bleeding far less than they should have given their size. In fact, had they already started clotting?

    ¡°You want me to dab the liquid on it? Is this some anes¡ªnumbing agent?¡±

    ¡°Numbing? No, it will heal it.¡±

    ¡°Just a dab to heal these lacerations?¡± I gave the innocuous bottle another glance. It didn¡¯t seem possible, but then again, I had seen a woman close a wound with magic.

    ¡°Yep. No need to worry. This grade should work for wounds this size.¡±

    I popped the top and tilted the bottle until the liquid brimmed along the edge. For once, my hands didn¡¯t shake, a marvel in its own right.However, the red liquid in the bottle, not my hands, drew my eyes. Almost the color of arterial blood, the liquid shimmered with its own light.

    ¡°Yep, and do you mind hurrying?I know it isn¡¯t bad, but it does sting, and the sooner you use it the fewer complications.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± I was still stuck on all the ramifications implied by this potion. It was straight out of a fantasy game or movie. It contained¡­something. I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it, but a part of me¡ªa part that I had never sensed or experienced before coming here¡ªwanted to reach out and touch it, to mold it, to make it mine. That alone was enough to make me believe that this could work as advertised. ¡°We just don¡¯t have these from where I¡¯m from.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡±Right. I forget that we¡¯re lucky as we mine the main ingredients for these. This grade is probably not available in most parts though.¡±

    ¡°Just dab it on your wound to heal it?¡±

    ¡°Yes. If you can, start with multiple dabs. If not, you can pour some over the scrapes. I hope you won¡¯t need to, we have an allotment of potions, but this crew tends to go through them more than most.¡±

    I dipped a finger into the red liquid, and immediately, my finger began to tingle, though not with pain. I had asked many a person to describe their symptoms to me. This was not like when my numb hand woke up after removing the pressure compressing a nerve or as the novocaine wore off after a dentist procedure. No. It was more akin to when I had stood under high voltage wires¡­only localized. Still neuropathic, for what that mattered.

    I dabbed it on the edge of the smallest laceration, which had already almost closed. The energy in the liquid left as soon as it contacted his skin. I inhaled sharply after I had finished dragging my finger along the wound. In the wake of the liquid, perfectly knitted skin remained¡ªjust like the elder [Healer] had managed. Did this world even need doctors when it had things like this?

    I stopped my finger right at the edge of the vial.The shock and awe had diminished enough that I could focus on more than just the wounds and this potion. My fingers for once did not shake or tremble. The tremor that had plagued me for years had disappeared. A small miracle, one I should be celebrating, if not for the sweat, grime, and blood caking my hands.

    ¡°Do I need to worry about infection?¡±

    I should have asked that before I had closed the smaller wounds. Hell, Ishould have at least washed my hands with water. How could I forget that? Could bacteria get trapped inside a closed wound and create an abscess? I was using medications I had no experience with.

    ¡°In¡ªfec¡ªtion?¡±

    He stumbled over the word. It had none of the rhythm of the Common tongue.

    ¡°Yeah, an infe¡ª¡°

    I stopped as soon as my tongue and lips made a familiar movement. I hadn¡¯t even noticed when I had first spoken the word, but just like when I had said hospital with Esper, infection hadn¡¯t carried over to Common. Whatever let me translate English to Common instinctively failed with those words. I saved that conundrum for later and took a different tack.

    ¡°What do you call it when a wound gets hot and red and swollen?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you mean when it festers because your elements are off?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Festering because¡­the elements are¡­off.¡± It hurt just to say that. Did they bleed or leech people too? Perhaps that wasn¡¯t completely fair. They apparently had magic, but I refused to believe bacteria didn¡¯t exist, not when they clearly had infections.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about it if you get to it early enough. However, if you have a major imbalance, the healing potions can worsen it.¡± He pointed to his back. ¡°Now do you mind finishing up?¡±

    ¡°Sorry. This stuff is not what I expected.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°No kidding. I¡¯ve heard the grade of potion you Humans have access to. But you don¡¯t have to worry. This is the good stuff. You needn¡¯t be so careful.¡±

 13. Fights & Potions II

    I didn¡¯t correct his misunderstanding about my past. It was true in many ways after all. Instead, I took another dab of the potion to apply it to the larger lacerations. The viscous liquid clung to my finger. Again, it seemed to call to me. Something waited for me. It was a struggle to find the right analogy. A potential? But if that was what it was, I did not know a way to tap it.

    I had spent enough time mulling this over. I wasted no more time. I brought my finger over the laceration and turned it over. Gravity stretched the vivid red liquid until a drop fell into the shallow furrows made by a monster¡¯s claws. As the drop seeped into the tissues, I turned my attention to what came to pass.

    Even though the drop had landed in the center, the entire wound began to heal. Before my eyes, the tissue began to knit together. It was as if I was watching a time lapse video. Weeks became seconds. Except, the skin¡¯s regrowth outpaced the underlying tissue.

    I winced as a wave of knowledge slammed into my brain, but it confirmed what I had suspected. The order was wrong. It would form a pocket or scar. Muscle before fascia. Fascia before skin.

    I put my finger in direct contact with the wound to use what remained of the potion to see if that made a difference, but that just accelerated the rate of skin regrowth.

    No. Do it right you, stupid potion.

    Before I could lambast myself at the audacity of my errant thought about a liquid my past self would find miraculous, a cool sensation flowed down my right arm and ¡°latched¡± onto that potential in the potion. I let out a small gasp as a wall I didn¡¯t even know existed collapsed.

    I could interact with the potion.I could control it. And direct it I did.

    I stared unblinking as my actions bore fruit. The skin stopped knitting together, and the rate of muscle tissue regeneration increased. A wave of dizziness threatened to derail my concentration, but I pushed it down. I didn¡¯t dare let my focus waver.

    After I burned through the potential in that drop of liquid, I smiled at my handiwork. Sure, I work on pure instinct, but I succeeded. The potion now regrew the tissue in the proper manner. Now could I repeat it?

    My finger trembled slightly as I tried another drop. Like before, the skin tried to knit ahead of the subcutaneous tissue and muscle.

    Stop.

    It didn¡¯t. I grimaced at the result after the small drop ran its course. What had I done differently before?

    The exact memory popped into my head. It was crystal clear, but it differed from my previous recollection. I didn¡¯t see a picture or watch a video. I relived the moment. I could actually feel the sensation of the flow of energy down my arm, and with a couple of reviews, I could identify the moment at which I could interact with the potion.

    I needed to be touching the liquid.

    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. So much for proper hygiene.

    I applied another dab to my finger and ran it along one of the smaller of the remaining wounds.I didn¡¯t let my finger break contact.I willed the potion to follow proper healing.

    That familiar sensation heralded my success. It ran down my arm into the potion and wound. In seconds, the wound healed like I wanted. I sighed in relief and moved to the larger puncture wounds and repeated.

    ¡°Done.¡±

    Dorian moved his shoulder and lifted his arm. ¡°Thanks. That feels much better. How much did you use?¡±

    ¡°A few dabs. Took me a few times to get it right.¡±

    ¡°Just a few dabs? Guess they weren¡¯t as deep as I had thought.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that. One was almost to the bone.¡±

    ¡°Huh. We must have gotten better grade stuff this time around if you didn¡¯t need to pour anything on there.¡± He picked up his pickaxe. ¡°Now let¡¯s go chat with those greedy greenskins.¡± He spat as he finished.

    I raised my eyebrows at his vehemence but didn¡¯t say anything. Hostility like that had to have a history. Also, note to self: avoid using greenskin. That had to be a slur by the way Dorian said it.

    Dorian motioned to my pick. ¡°Bring yours. They need to see the blood on it.¡±

    He didn¡¯t say anything more as he walked towards the gathering ?ttir. I cursed as I saw them patching up their wounds with potions. Stupid. I hadn¡¯t even tried to triage. Though based on the scowls most gave me as we approached, few may have let me help.

    Dorian walked towards the largest of the ?ttir, who was standing in front of the breach in the wall speaking to a few other ?ttir. The leader?

    ¡°Casualties?¡± the largest ?ttar asked one of three other ?ttir at his side.

    ¡°None. Minor wounds at most. One required a full healing potion.¡±

    ¡°Then this was definitely worth it. Not as rich as I had hoped, but without severe injuries it was without question--¡±

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    ¡°Reckless.¡± Dorian barged into the conversation. The ?ttar might have been taller by almost half his height, but it didn¡¯t faze him. Dorian¡¯s natural joviality had vanished. He was cold and impersonal, as if he was a different person. ¡°I don¡¯t care how good you are at swinging axes. A breach that large requires a larger group."

    The ?ttir all turned to face the source of the interruption. The expressions ranged from annoyance to outright hostility. Yet unlike me, they showed no signs of surprise.

    Not a new conversation then?

    It didn¡¯t make this exchange feel any safer. Their scowls deepened when they caught sight of me, and I swallowed, fighting the urge to flee under their intense gazes. These ?ttir stood a head above their kin, and each packed more muscle than an Olympic body builder. However, thankfully, they turned their focus back to Dorian¡¯s brazen remark.

    ¡°Know your place--¡±

    The tallest ?ttar pushed back his companion with a scarred arm. ¡°I am capable of handling this.¡± His tone was cooler, but it still cut. ¡°He, after all, has a right to speak to his leader.¡±

    The ?ttar had emphasized ¡°leader¡± to make a point, one not lost on Dorian, who immediately bristled. The ?ttar waited. Dorian¡¯s fist grew white as he squeezed his pickaxe¡¯s handle, but no blows came.

    ¡°Your complaints are getting old, Oresian. You continue to make the same point. Each time you are wrong.¡±

    ¡°There will be a time¡ª¡°

    ¡°There won¡¯t. Your companies are weak compared to us.¡± Eyeing our pickaxes, ¡°though, I see you have made some contribution, as pitiful as it likely was. Do not worry, you will get your reward.¡± He paused as if to consider something. ¡°Or are you so greedy that you need to come here doubting my honor?¡±

    Before Dorian could say something to escalate things further, I jumped in. ¡°We are here so that I can introduce myself.¡± I put on my biggest fake smile, reaching out my hand. The lead ?ttar¡¯s eyes narrowed sharply. One of the ?ttir flanking the leader growled at the action, and Dorian hissed in warning. I dropped my hand, but I plowed on undaunted, not daring to let my smile falter. Fake it until you make it.

    ¡°I was just added to your company, but I am glad I could already contribute. I am¡ª¡±

    ¡°What he means¡ª¡° Dorian spoke over me, but the lead ?ttar cut him off.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what he means.¡± The lead ?ttar paused, mulling over the situation. Surprisingly, Dorian didn¡¯t offer any rebuttal. What had I just gotten myself into with a simple introduction?

    The ?ttar finally offered me a smile in return, though his was far from fake. He made no attempt to hide the sick glee at the situation. ¡°Your charge must be a fool, but I can¡¯t say I would expect anything better from someone stuck with you as his mentor. I do not suffer fools, and you, Oresian, already push me to my limit.¡±

    Dorian tensed but said nothing. My mind started racing at the implication of the direction of the conversation. While he spoke about me, never once did he turn his attention to me. Every word he directed at Dorian. ¡°Still, my honor deems I recognize contribution, and I am magnanimous. Your charge¡¯s reward will be that I forget this insult today. Now get the corpses back for harvesting. That is well within your capabilities, and you earned your spoils after all.¡± The ?ttar gave Dorian a cruel smile as he continued. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare get between a Oresian and his treasure.¡±

    He started laughing at his own joke, but the rest of the ?ttir near him quickly followed suit. Dorian just stood rigid, anger radiating out of him. However, he didn¡¯t say a word until the ?ttir finished laughing.

    When he did, he spoke through clenched teeth. ¡°Is there anything other orders?¡±

    ¡°No. Now get out of my sight. I have more important things to attend to.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your mercy, Verndari,¡± Dorian replied as if saying each word hurt him to say.

    Dorian grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back with enough force that I stumbled. Only his support kept me from going to the floor. I got my feet under me as we moved away. Dorian didn¡¯t let go even as we cleared some distance.

    Given the interaction between those two, I didn¡¯t resist. However, once we left earshot, I grabbed his fingers trying to pull them free. I would have had better luck moving an iron vice. I finally gave up.

    ¡°Can you let go of me?¡±

    He did, spinning me around fast enough that the world spun. ¡°What were you thinking?¡±

    I shook away the dizziness, finally noticing the fine tremor in his hands and the red infusing his face¡¯s natural bronze. Anger? Embarrassment? ¡°I was trying to diffuse the obvious argument.¡±

    He huffed out an incredulous laugh at that statement. ¡°Then you did the opposite. You almost got yourself killed. Next time you want to help, don¡¯t open your mouth.¡± Hand covering an eye, head shaking, he muttered to himself, ¡°what a waste of a day and potion. We are going to get nothing out of this with salvage duty.¡±

    I, however, couldn¡¯t move on. ¡°Are you serious that my life was at risk?¡±

    Dorian¡¯s eyes snapped open, looking at me with disbelief. ¡°Maybe you are a fool, because you never struck me as suicidal.¡± I frowned at the insult, but he didn¡¯t notice. ¡°You were in greater danger in that conversation than any time during that swarm. You, a Human, demeaned his honor. What did you expect to happen? Have you not met an ?ttar before?¡±

    He stared at me, waiting for something. A response? An admission of error? With everything that happened, I could only muster a blank look.

    His eyes widened. ¡°By the Gods, you haven¡¯t, have you? Do you know anything about their culture?¡± He waved away the answer. ¡°No. Don¡¯t bother answering that. It is plain as day that you don¡¯t with the way you acted. I know that the letter said you were unfamiliar¡­¡± He rubbed his face with one of his big hands as he trailed off. Then he muttered to himself, ¡°she is punishing me for all those years I was a brat to her.¡±

    He took a deep breath and looked at me. ¡°Okay. New rule: do not speak to an ?ttar unless spoken to.¡± I opened my mouth to complain, but he quieted me with a pointed finger. ¡°No exceptions. You will not speak to any ?ttar.¡±

    ¡°Nobody? How am I supposed to do anything here?¡±

    ¡°It will filter through me.¡±

    I shook my head. This was too much. Despised on sight by both Volki and ?ttir and now forced into silence by the only people that showed some friendliness?

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªat least not unless I know why.¡±

    He goggled at me. ¡°Because you will get yourself killed!¡± He measured out a distance close to an inch with his finger. ¡°That¡¯s how close you came back there, and it would have been in his right. We operate by ?ttarsk rules in this company, and you clearly know nothing of them. I have leeway because of my tier and because I am a Oresian. But you¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°I am positive that if I wasn¡¯t there, you would be dead. He saw a chance to gain a favor and took it.¡±

    Dorian started to pace as he continued. ¡°This isn¡¯t a Human settlement where most fail to break past Tier 2. You are at the bottom rung. If an ?ttar approaches you, you keep your eyes down and wait to be addressed. I know that might be hard for you given your upbringing, but you need to get that through your skull. You have enough going against, being a Human and having a non-combat class.¡±

    ¡°Wait. How do you know anything about my class?¡±

    ¡°Really? You¡¯re Mind focused, and you didn¡¯t use a skill once during the entire fight with the terrorvoles.¡±

    I just nodded at his reasoning despite the blatant errors in reasoning. I had kicked up enough trouble with my ignorance. Flawed as his logic was, he still came up with the right answer. While I still had no handle on the term, if classes were anything like what I remembered from D&D or RPGs, in no way, shape, or form could I consider a [Physician] a combat class. As for my upbringing, I would just have to figure out about that assumption later.

    He waited for me to argue the point. When I didn¡¯t, he continued, ¡°So if an ?ttar from this company starts approaching you¡­?

    ¡°I keep my head or eyes down until addressed, and I find you if they need something.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°That last part is a good addition.¡±

    ¡°I can do it.I may not like it, but I can hold my tongue and play the meek¡­Human.¡±

    Dorian¡¯s face softened. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t fair. Mum always said life never was, and life seems to enjoy proving her right. Even then, your luck¡­¡± He shook his head in sympathy. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. Not at your level and not alone.¡±

    He gave me another opening to explain my situation, but I couldn¡¯t. I needed a friend, but¡­I couldn¡¯t, not after that dressing down. I couldn¡¯t remember the last time that had happened. All that because I introduced myself.

    He gave me a sad but knowing smile. ¡°We will make this work.¡± He sighed. ¡°This was probably more my fault. I should never have brought you near the Verndari. I will do better. I will watch out for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I know you took a few blows meant for me from those¡­¡±

    ¡°Terrorvoles.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Those things. So thank you.¡±

    He gave me a clap on the back hard enough that I winced. ¡°Good. Now that we got that squared away, let¡¯s get to harvesting. We wasted enough time talking. After our last conversation, the Verndari or one of his H?rliear will be watching. By the way, those are their official titles. If you are addressed, you should finish up with the Verndari or H?rlie. The same goes for the V¨ªsir, their senior [Healer]. But again¡ª¡°

    ¡°No speaking with ?ttir. I got it.¡±

    ¡°Good. We wasted enough time. We will need to get some carts from the entrance, but if we hurry, we can get it done before the next shift.¡±

 14. Harvest & Cleanup I

    Neither of us said anything more as we headed back to the mine¡¯s entrance. I needed time to digest everything from my dismal place in this world to the fact monsters seemed to be commonplace. At least I could wrap my head around the rigid hierarchy. It had elements similar to a feudal or possibly caste system. It offended my sensibilities, but it wasn¡¯t completely foreign. As for monsters¡­

    Were they everywhere or just in this area? A few people had used the name the Wilds. With monsters about, this area would be hard to tame. It also put the heavy near-military presence and wall into new light. What did they have to defend against?

    Perhaps recognizing my mood, Dorian didn¡¯t speak until we ended up in front of clusters of pull carts tucked off to the side that I had missed when I first entered. Dorian tapped a handle of one of the smaller ones. ¡°Grab this one.¡± He then walked over to the largest one, clocking in at over twice the length of mine. I cocked my head. ¡°Trust me. The weight will add up quickly once we start filling them. Better to ramp you up.¡±

    I didn¡¯t argue with that logic.I had experienced his unyielding grip.His strength far eclipsed my own.As he settled between the handholds, I asked a question I had mulled over during our walk here. ¡°Dorian, I haven¡¯t seen much of this place, but how common is our¡­mixed company¡¯s arrangement?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡±

    I waited for more of an explanation, but none came. Okay. I couldn''t say I hadn¡¯t tried.Not that I blamed him; I hadn¡¯t been an open book either.

    I switched topics. ¡°So, we are going to load the terrorvoles into these, and then what?¡±

    ¡°Once we load up the carcasses, we will take them to the [Harvesters]. They will do a better job than anyone in the mines.¡±

    ¡°And what can they harvest from them?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Everything they can. We are in the Wilds. Even dung has value given the tier of this area.¡±

    We brought the empty carts to a stop in front of a clump of dead terrorvoles. A few glassy, red eyes stared back at me, their lifeless gaze a stark reminder of the recent carnage...and how close I came to being the one lying on the floor. I bent down to pick up a body but stopped upon seeing the pool of blood and offal on the ground next to it. Even this fresh, I still needed to suppress a gag triggered by the corpses'' awful smell.

    ¡°Do you have any gloves?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re dead. They won¡¯t bite.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean they are clean.¡±

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    ¡°You will be getting far dirtier mining.¡±

    Yeah, I already needed a shower, but that wasn¡¯t the dirty I meant. I leaned in closer. That was foam at one of the mouths. ¡°They look diseased.¡±

    ¡°Still won¡¯t bite you because, you know, they are dead.¡±

    I suppressed an eye roll. ¡°They can still transmit an infection.¡± I trailed off as I recognized the familiar lack of translation. ¡°At least tell me you guys don¡¯t eat this meat?¡± I didn¡¯t care how much they cooked it. No way would I trust it.

    He laughed at that. ¡°No. The meat messes with your Energy flows unless you have enough resistance. You don¡¯t, by the way. Unless you have a skill, you would probably need to be higher than twenty. Even then, it isn¡¯t very nourishing.¡± He tossed one of the dead rodents into the cart.

    ¡°I know you are saying it is safe, but can you tell me nobody ever gets sick after cleaning up monsters that are infect¡­¡± I shook my head in annoyance and then waved to the dead creature, trying to come up with another word besides infected.

    ¡°Rabid?¡±

    Rabid?Really?The logic about what translated made no sense. ¡°Sure.Why not.¡±

    ¡°I have heard stories, typically the person is ill or¡­.Y¡¯know, I keep forgetting what tier you are. Better to be safe than sorry. You should grab a pair of gloves. There are some back by the picks. I will keep working here, but you can grab some.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I hurried, cognizant of the pairs of eyes that kept checking on our progress.

    I found the gloves on a shelf.On the way back, piles of dead terrorvoles had grown as some of the ?ttir, all of them smaller than the leader, carried over carcasses from the monsters that had died at the edges of the cavern.However, no other carts joined ours.

    I returned and found Dorian at another pile of corpses. I grabbed my cart and pulled it to another pile near his.We worked in silence, picking up one beast after another.Dorian lifted them with a pace I could not match. I didn¡¯t try to keep up. This wasn¡¯t a race.Even if it was, I had no chance of winning. I pegged their weight at no less than forty-five pounds, yet he tossed them around as if they weighed no more than five.Instead, I took the time to better examine their natural weapons.

    I am no longer on Earth.

    Up close, the deadliness of this world became ever so apparent. The terrorvoles came in at smaller than a mid-sized dog, but their claws and fangs better fit a grizzly. And Dorian called them a negligible threat? What was a big one? The dinosaurs in the forest? Either way, even their rodents were lethal.

    I am no longer on Earth.

    I needed to drill it into my head, make it my mantra. I repeated it with each terrorvole tossed into the cart.

    With my cart half full, my back already started to ache. I ignored it as I pulled my cart to the next pile. It was large, and it would probably fill up the rest of the cart. ¡°Dorian, is there a weight limit on these things?¡± The hand cart appeared well made, but it was made only from wood.

    ¡°You don''t have to worry. The wood¡¯s infused. Just fill it up to as much as you can pull.¡±

    Infused? Half the things he uttered led to new questions, but how to ask them? I needed to find people to trust. Unfortunately, that seemed in short supply around here. I gave Dorian a long look. Could I trust him?

    I pondered it as I stacked more of the terrorvoles onto my cart. We finished the pile, and Dorian headed towards the next one.It took me two tries, but I finally got the fully loaded cart moving.I stopped in front of the same pile and picked up another vole.

    ¡°Toss that and the rest of these onto mine. I saw how you struggled getting your cart moving. No need to kill yourself. It looks like we took down more than I thought. We are going to have at least one more trip to clear the place out.¡±

    I hesitated only briefly.The cart was heavy, and my muscles already ached from earlier. The two of us quickly cleared the rest. Dorian moved the cart as if it wasn¡¯t even loaded. I left my cart to follow Dorian and toss carcasses onto the growing mound in his cart.

    It didn¡¯t take long to fill his cart with a heap of dead terrorvoles. I surveyed the cavern. We would need to make another trip, but likely only one more. I returned to my cart. My muscles protested as I tried to move it.It took three tries to get it going, but I managed it.A good thing too. I didn¡¯t miss the eyes of a few ?ttir on me, watching me struggle.

    It filled me with more dread than fire. I had a competitive streak, but my strength did not lie in the physical. They were waiting for me to fail, and if I did¡­

    I tried not to think about that as I followed Dorian as he pulled the cart towards the entrance of the cavern.

 15. Harvest & Cleanup II

    I had started sucking air as soon as we hit the main cavern.It didn¡¯t get better with each step after that. The cart¡¯s wheels seemed to actively work against me.Their resistance increased as I sped up.This world needed to invent ball bearings.All my muscles burned. I would hurt tomorrow.This exceeded any exercise I had done before, including high-intensity interval training classes.However, I didn¡¯t dare slow down.I carried half of Dorian¡¯s load.He might not care, but those ?ttir probably would.Who knew where they had eyes?

    It took the world starting to become fuzzy before I remembered to slow down my breathing.Almost miraculously, after a few steady breaths, the cart began to roll far easier, almost unnaturally so for wooden wheels and axles. Did some grease magically make its way onto the axle?

    I would have let out a laugh at the fact that that could actually be a possibility if I wasn¡¯t sucking wind. Instead, I just shook my head and focused on pulling. More likely I had rubbed down whatever friction point was causing the problem.

    Dorian tossed another look back.I had lost track of the number of times he had checked on me as we pulled the carts, but this time, he did a double take.Did I look that bad?

    Didn¡¯t care.He hadn¡¯t slowed down, and I wouldn¡¯t.

    It took every ounce of my concentration to keep my breath at my current rhythm. I didn¡¯t dare let it slip. Every time I did, the cart became heavy, the drag increased. However, I could keep up¡ªas long as he didn¡¯t speed up.

    Our path from the entrance to the cave took us towards a section of the camp near the gate.It sat on top of a small mound, not quite as high as the hill the healer¡¯s lodge¡¯s but enough of an incline that Dorian started to open a gap. Worse, for whatever reason, my breathing technique¡¯s effectiveness had started to wane.With each step I took away from the cave, my ability to keep pace diminished.

    Why was this place so far away from the cave¡¯s entrance?Shouldn¡¯t it be near the production site?

    Soon my nose told me why.It reflexively crinkled in disgust.Even breathing through my mouth provided no relief.I wouldn¡¯t want this place near anything, especially not my living quarters.I punched through the wall of the foul odor, not daring to slow.If I did, I would retch and never be able to start moving again.

    I collapsed to the ground when I made it next to Dorian¡¯s hand cart, not caring a wit about getting dirt on my clothes. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t see me. He had gone around to the front to enter the building. I didn¡¯t make any effort to follow. With my legs like jello, I wouldn¡¯t have made it far. Instead, I rested my head against the rough wood of my cart, taking in the cloudless, crystal-blue sky as I tried to catch my breath using the same technique I used when I was pulling the cart.

    It took a bit for me to realize it, but something was different about my recovery.It differed from the few times I had overdone it during a workout.I could barely lift my arms and legs, but they didn¡¯t hurt. I had pushed myself to the brink, but my muscles didn¡¯t burn.I felt better now than I did when I had just started pulling that cart. Even more strange, my recovery felt right around the corner, like I needed minutes, not days, to recover.

    I mulled it over while sitting and taking in the view of the camp from a different angle than the Healers¡¯ Hut. After this morning¡¯s adventure, those tall walls ringing the cleared space took on a new meaning. They may lock me into indentured servitude, but they also kept the world back. I wouldn¡¯t complain if they added a few more feet the next time they constructed one. It was a gross understatement to say this world was more dangerous than home.

    I tilted my head back, blinking at the sun that had finally crested the mountain.I relished its warmth.The shadow covering the camp had retreated, the edge of the long shadow splitting the camp into light and dark.Soon that edge would disappear, leaving the entire camp basking in the sun. The sun always moved faster than you¡¯d think¡ªor at least it did back home.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t come in.¡± I turned to find Dorian coming around the corner of the largest building in this area. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it was to enjoy the surroundings.¡°

    I laughed. ¡°I wanted to take in the camp.Plus, it is pungent here. I can¡¯t imagine what it is like over there.¡±

    A slight frown flickered across his face, but he didn¡¯t push me about my obvious omission.Sure, I had needed some time to recover, but it was more than that.I didn¡¯t need to meet someone new while still panting.I had already had one too many poor introductions.Plus, I had wanted to see the camp, and while the smell had improved with time, this place still reeked.

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    ¡°It actually does smell better. The trick is to stay close to the source of [Suppress Smell].¡±

    ¡°Wait? Suppress¡ªoh, another skill. Like your [Suppress Dust]?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but its effect drops off far more quickly than mine. It is an early skill for [Tanners], but most [Leatherworkers] will pick it up. In most cases, high-leveled crafters will save a bit of coin by processing their own low-tiered materials. It¡¯s just hard to manage that and having a shop in a town if you can¡¯t control the smell.¡±

    ¡°I bet.¡±I nodded to the building.¡°So, this is a tannery?¡±

    It didn¡¯t look like it, but what did I know?Like the Healers¡¯ Hut, it sat in a cluster with a few other buildings.At first glance, it rivaled the size of the General Supply, though it didn¡¯t have the same polish.The construction was still crude, but it was more than stacked logs.Cut planks formed the walls, but someone had built it with care.I didn¡¯t find a single gap between the boards.

    ¡°No.¡± He thumbed towards the large building in front of us. ¡°This is where the final products go. The tannery and other buildings involved with harvesting tasks are behind it.¡±

    ¡°So, you do more than make leather here?¡±

    ¡°Of course! We can¡¯t afford to let anything go to waste. While I feel for non-[tanners] and [leatherworkers], it helps to keep it all contained in one spot. Even cleaned, all the parts tend to attract unwanted attention.¡°

    Once he said it, I noticed that I had missed the difference in height of this portion of the wall. It rose noticeably higher and had a higher density of guard posts than the rest.

    ¡°Are we safe?¡±

    ¡°As safe as we can be here.¡±

    ¡°Not reassuring.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°What did you except in the Wilds?¡±

    What did I expect? How about walking through a well-lit cave with the greatest risk being a chance for a fall or, at worst, catching rabies from a bat?

    How quickly I forgot my mantra. This isn¡¯t Earth.

    I faked a smile. ¡°Yeah. Easy to forget. I just need some time to adjust. This wasn¡¯t what¡­¡± I stopped when I caught sight of Dorian¡¯s expectant look. Too eager. I shook my head. ¡°Regardless, I would never have considered terrorvoles easy to manage.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I can imagine. Ones this size require quite the Aether density to survive. Still, they are nothing more than pests in the grand scheme of things. They are only good for getting into your supplies or, out in places with higher Aether, drawing in stronger beasts. Unless you want the latter, a good rule is to always try to eliminate any nest you find because no matter what you do, a new one always pops up.¡±

    ¡°Sounds dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Nah, they are easy to exterminate as long as you don¡¯t walk into a horde unprepared¡ªat least for those of us with some levels under our belts.¡±

    ¡°I am not sure I would find it easy even with a few more levels.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on. You had to have seen some high-tiered, non-combat classes fight. They can be just as deadly as low-tiered combat classes.¡±

    I just nodded, hiding my ignorance.

    Then he smirked. ¡°Now, did you have enough of a break?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± My voice trailed off as I took a second to actually take stock of my body. I found none of the expected discomfort, even when tensing my legs and arms. I stood, not jumped up, but even then, I didn¡¯t need to cry out as I rose from the ground. ¡°Yeah, I guess I am.¡± I did a test squat. ¡°And I probably can do this again¡ªas long as we keep the same pace.¡±

    He laughed and clamped me on the back. ¡°Good. Because we have at least one more trip to go.¡±

    I pointed to one of our carts filled with dead terrorvoles. ¡°We still haven¡¯t delivered these.Is the drop off spot in the back?¡±The only entrance on the two visible sides of the rectangular building was a small door that looked like a shed.It was too small for anything but tools.

    ¡°There will be a spot in the area between the buildings.I had to check if they had room for them first. Terrorvole hide is flimsy, but Auren L?dermak?r, our master [Leatherworker], can make it work for patch work or belts. However, sometimes they get too much at once, and he will give the [Shamans] a portion.Lucky for us,¡± pointing in the direction of the Healers¡¯ Hut, ¡°we don¡¯t have to go there. [Shamans] will get their entrails, but they will have to wait.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have to come over here?¡±

    ¡°Have you met the elder [Shaman]?¡±

    Realization dawned. ¡°Right¡­stupid question.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Healers of her caliber are rare, and she knows it. The less of her time wasted, the better for the camp. Just as important, bringing her supplies soothes her ego. She is one of the few people here that you want to be on their good side.¡±

    I frowned. I had no chance of that. ¡°And the others?¡±

    ¡°I will tell you later. Know that you impressed one of them.¡± The direction of his gaze towards the direction of the General Supply was enough to confirm my suspicion. ¡°Now let¡¯s¡­¡± I looked up to find his eyes still lingering on the large building and his hand relaxing from a clenched fist. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ll bring these back so the apprentices can unload everything. You should head back and start loading up the next carts. I will meet you there, but I need to talk with a few other people.¡± I shot him a questioning look, but he didn¡¯t care to explain. ¡°Just head down and grab the rest of the terrorvoles. If I¡¯m not back by the time you¡¯ve filled the carts up, just bring the next cart here. I¡¯ll find you. And don¡¯t worry. They aren¡¯t going to crack open any more passages today. It will be safe. ¡±

    Good to know, but that didn¡¯t worry me as much as the reason he was leaving. I could come up with other reasons, but odds favored it being related to our last conversation with the Verndari.There was bad blood there, and my presence hadn¡¯t helped.Was he going to complain about the Verndari or me?At least one of those would turn out poorly.The Quartermaster didn¡¯t strike me as a woman who wanted to be involved with petty conflicts.If it was about me...?Well, I liked Dorian, but losing a friendship before it could begin seemed the norm for me in this world.

    I just nodded, keeping my concerns to myself. ¡°I will head to the mine. I will try to have it wrapped up before you are done.¡±

 16. Overdosing

    The Volk did not even blink as I entered the cave and grabbed another cart.

    Not that surprising. After all, what is a¡ªwhat did Dorian call me? A tier 1 Human?¡ªgoing to do?

    I pulled the cart down the narrow pathway to our mining site. The ?ttir had returned to work, though the cavern contained far fewer than earlier this morning. Probably exploring the large opening that they created. The remainder paid me no heed. Maybe I had proven something by coming hauling away a load of dead monsters.

    I moved next to a patch of dead terrorvoles. It was boring, but quick work.I kept tossing a glance over to the cavern''s entrance expecting to see Dorian, but he never appeared.

    ¡°And here I was worried about being the slacker, " I whispered to myself with a small laugh.

    I had managed to finish before he returned. It helped that we had grossly overestimated how much work we had left. I barely filled half my cart with the last of the remains.

    I pulled the cart to the tunnel to the main cavern when shout stopped me. ¡°Human.¡± I gritted my teeth. Being called by my race¡ªor was it species?¡ªwas getting old. Recognizing the voice, I stopped and turned in the direction of the speaker. As expected, the Verndari waited exuding causal arrogance mixed with an air of command.

    ¡°Yes,¡± then almost forgetting to add the honorific, ¡°Verndari.¡±

    His eyes narrowed, but he left the slip go. ¡°You have extra space, and we have a load to be taken.¡±

    I scanned the room quickly. ¡°Did I miss some?"

    He sneered. "This is nothing as worthless as terrorvoles. We have a sample of the ore. It needs to be assessed for its value. Bring your cart."

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡°

    ¡°Just do as you are told.¡±

    He turned and walked toward the cavern''s newest expansion without waiting for me.I spun the half-filled cart and followed him. The cart barely fit through the opening that they created. From the rubble on the floor, they had worked to enlarge the gap. However, they had not placed any light stones. It would have been too dark to see if not for the purple and green light pouring in from the end of the small tunnel.

    I stopped short, the cart not even clearing the tunnel¡¯s exit, as soon as I got my first look at the cavern. Words of astonishment slipped from my lips.

    ¡°Impressive isn¡¯t? And the claim is all ours.¡°

    I couldn''t disagree with the ?ttar. I had somehow walked into a massive geode.Huge crystals covered every wall, and somehow, they glowed, a luminescence casting out a rainbow of vivid neon colors. I scanned the wall looking for a light stone, but I found nothing. I examined a few fist-sized crystals jutting out from the wall next to me.Vibrant greens and violets emanated from them. This was not refracted or reflected light.Somehow these stone naturally emitted the light and with enough intensity to allow the ?ttir to work without another source.

    ¡°Take a look while you can. We will clear this vein in days. We won''t get a tenth of its ¡¯worth,¡¯ but we will get our week''s rations and some supplies while they grow soft with false strength. It was always just enough to find another vein without restarting to beg others for help. ?ttir don¡¯t beg.¡±

    I got the implication. I added another person that would eat into their meager cut, but the fact that he was telling me this said something. I must be owed something, and he wanted to make sure I knew that wouldn¡¯t be his choice. He wouldn¡¯t give me anything if he had his say. I would need to talk to Dorian to confirm, but the lack of autonomy seemed the norm for those toiling in the mine.

    ¡°I am here to help. What do you want me to haul, Verndari?¡±

    He studied me for a bit. Apparently satisfied with he saw, he pointed to a stack of rocks that did not glow as the rest. "Take those. They aren''t crystal, but one of my men thinks they may contain some ore. Find out if they are worth what he says. I will not waste my men¡¯s time on worthless metals.¡±

    ¡°I also take it to the same place as the terrorvoles?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, not hiding his exasperation.

    Done with me, he then walked off leaving me to my new job. I pulled the cart out of the tunnel and knelt in front of a pile of rocks. Apparently, they needed a large sample because each rock was about the size of forty-five-pound barbell plate, but thicker and, unfortunately, probably heavier. They lacked any hint of the crystalline structure found on the rest of the wall. The only color came some faint red and silver striations.

    I bent down and grabbed the top rocks. I groaned as I lifted it. Definitely heavier than forty-five pounds.Maybe a hundred? Terrorvoles suddenly didn''t seem so bad. Rock between my legs, I waddled towards the cart like a sumo wrestler. My spine cracked and popped as I strained to lift it high enough to clear the lip of the cart. With a sickening squish, it landed in the cart on top of the dead terrorvoles.

    I moved another, again straining against the weight.This one landed with a loud thud as it struck the first rock.

    The sound must have carried because an ?ttar working near me turned from his work. He took in what I was doing and then snapped, ¡°be careful with that, Human. They could still have crystallized Aether that we don¡¯t want to shatter.¡°

    These were rocks, not crystals. No way would the Verndari trust me with anything of value. However, I held my tongue and nodded, while plastering on my face my best impression of meek compliance. I returned to my pile, though not before turning the cart to allow give easier to the other side.I squatted in front of it. Most of the stones were smaller than the first two. I just had to lift two or three more large pieces.

    I started to lift when someone behind me let out a cough, and not just any cough.It kept going as if he had a lung to spit out.Should I help?Nobody said anything as it continued.The chorus of dull thuds of picks on stones never slowed.

    I gritted my teeth waiting for it to end.When it finally did, the ?ttar continued to wheeze with each inhalation. I still didn''t turn around.I just ignored it and the increasing pangs of guilt until it finally died down to something inaudible. I couldn''t do anything. If I was home, maybe. I would have access to an inhaler and CT. Then I could diagnose and treat him. Except here I didn''t even have a stethoscope, and perhaps more importantly, they had magic to fix this. They didn¡¯t need me at all.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    I kept telling myself that as I wrapped my hands around one of the rocks. My back screamed with each inch I lifted it off the ground. I made it two steps backward before the rock crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. I waited for another chastisement, but nothing. No one offered to help either. I squatted down again. It was heavy, but I could do it. I had squatted far heavier...when I was fifteen years younger and had the time to work out.

    I grabbed the stone again. I would contribute. This was just like lifting weights. I took some deep breath, and then with an exhale, as I stood up. The rock moved, my back ached, but I kept moving, sucking in air as I waddled quickly to the cart. I cycled a few more deep breaths before lifting it about the rim of the cart¡¯s sidewall. This was just a clean. This was just a--

    The rock shot up with my exhale. I barely controlled it unexpected ascent and descent, but I managed to set it down on next to the other rock without even the hint of a sound. In my vision¡¯s periphery, I caught the Verndari watching. Probably waiting for me to break something.

    Just two more, then the rest will be easy. I grabbed the next rock.Just like before, I cycled my breathing before lifting.I pushed down wave of lightheadedness. I needed to be done with this. My legs and back burned as carried the rock to the cart, but I got the rock there in record time. Just like before, I laid it down with minimal sound.

    I leaned against the cart sweating and fighting a strong wave of nausea.One more.Head down, I took a few more deep breaths. Energy filled my burning muscles.I could do this.

    ¡°Human, what are you doing?¡±

    I turned my head finding a huge ?ttar had approached during my recovery. He wasn''t the Verndari, but Dorian¡¯s words of warning came back to me. In the time I hesitated to respond, the Verndari answered his question for me. "Earning his keep."

    Even in my fatigued state, I didn¡¯t miss the Verndari staring down the ?ttar, daring him to object.He cast a look to me, then to his boss before scowling and returning to work.I did the same. This confirmed what I already knew. The Verndari had it out for me. The fact that perhaps one ?ttar cared did little to buoy my mood. At least the latest rock moved as easily as the previous.

    In a few short minutes, I had it and the rest of the pile transferred to the cart. I grabbed both bars and pulled. The cart didn''t move.

    Of course, it didn¡¯t.

    The load barely rose above the top of the cart¡¯s sidewalls. If the load consisted of only terrorvoles, I could have moved it, but the rocks were far denser. I tried again, putting more force into it. The cart at least rocked forward before the wheels settled back into a small groove in the stone.

    I strained once more before forcibly exhaling after all my effort went to waste.I hung my head in defeat.I was cracking under the pressure, not unlike the carcasses of the terrorvoles I kept burying under an increasing layer of stone. It was too much. I had dealt with pressure before.I had made decision that saved and cost lives.However, it was never my own life on the line, never my body pushed to the brink.

    What if I just gave up?

    Before I could entertain that idea, I caught a familiar shape standing in the periphery. I looked up to find the Verndari smirking.

    Screw him. Screw this place. I wouldn''t let him or anyone else here have the satisfaction.

    I clamped down on the handles and sucked in deep breath. It kindled a familiar warmth in my chest. I waited for the burst of energy that would follow. I focused on it as it filled my body, the task made easier by its strength. For whatever reason, it exceeded what I had previously generated. Aches and pains faded after I took one deep breath after another. I stoked the heat in my chest until it became a raging inferno. Then I pulled.

    The cart rolled forward, hitting the edge of the rut and threatening to slip back into is groove.I sucked in another breath and tapped that reserve of strength that I had uncovered. I pulled again with everything I had.My tendons screamed as my muscle strained again their limits, but it was enough.The fully loaded cart creaked and then rolled out of its rut.

    With each step, I picked up more steam. I aimed for the mouth of the tunnel, praying I wouldn''t clip the side.I didn¡¯t dare stop. I didn''t dare slow down. I would never get this cart moving again otherwise. I gave the Verndari one last glance. Was his smirk wider?

    I didn¡¯t have the capacity to think on that. I barely managed to mentally curse him. It took all my focus to keep breathing, and this current stretch was the easy part. However, I would eke out a win just so that he could choke on it.

    I pulled the cart through the first tunnel, internally groaning at the sounds of wood scraping stone and momentum lost. Purple and green gave way to a dim white as I moved into the next cavern. ?ttir stopped to look at me. One of the greenskins yelled, but nothing made it past the roaring in my ears, not that I wanted to hear it.

    Take a good look at the monkey--human--work. Enjoy it while you can.

    I pulled my damned load into main cavern, sucking wind the whole time, but somehow, I kept moving.

    Halfway there.

    In the distance, black silhouettes stood near the other tunnels arising from the entrance cavern. Guards. Even if blurred, what else could they be? And just like before, they paid me no heed.

    Harmless. Worthless.

    Rage propelled me and the cart through the last tunnel. The sun had long crested the mountain, but just like everything else here, it greeted me with disdain, the rays of light daggers to my eyes. I slipped, a knee scraping the ground. The slight downhill I had just given thanks for a second ago now threatened to maim as the cart didn''t slow with my stumble. It slammed into my lower back driving my other knee across the rough ground. I pushed against the handles. My arms quivered with exhaustion, but I found the strength to push myself up before the cart dragged me under.

    As soon as my feet hit the ground, I started running.I still had some downhill left, and I couldn''t waste any of it.I would need every bit to finish the last stretch up the hill.

    Sweat dripped down my face and neck.My tunic stuck to my sweaty skin.It was as if I was running a marathon inside a sauna. Some part of my brain screamed to take it off. Except, I couldn''t. I couldn''t stop.Not on a hill.

    I lifted my head to find the right direction only to flinch again at the sun''s light.I squinted, but it did little. My world had turned into an impressionist painting. So, I closed my eyes and just guessed in a direction.

    The throbbing in my head lessened a notch, confirming everything in this land was trying to kill me, even the sun.

    I screamed at the injustice before returning to heaving breath. I would not stop. I would finish just to spite that the damn the Verndari and everyone other greenskin.

    Suddenly, my cart jerked to a stop as if I hit a wall; however, nothing stopped my body.My hands slipped from the handle at the sudden cessation of momentum, and I flew forward somersaulting onto ground.I came to a stop on my back¡ªprobably.

    I opened my eyes and regretted it. With the brief burst of light, the throbbing in my head grew to a pounding that threatened to shatter my skull. The ringing in my ears had grown to howl. My head rolled to the side as I started to spin in place. Or was that the world?

    A set of hands gripped both sides of my head.

    ¡°I need to finish,¡± I croaked, somehow managing not to vomit.

    Something pressed down on one of my eyelids.

    No. They were going too¡ª

    The pressure increased, and despite my resistance, my eyelid opened. Even the small crack allowed needles to stab into my eyes. They streamed down my optic nerve into the back of my brain. Despite being awash in white and pain, I managed to make out that familiar, bronze face.

    Dorian.

    His mouth moved as he pulled me off the ground and onto my feet, not that it mattered.I could not make out anything above the howling in my ears, not that it mattered.He may have pretended to be a friend, but it turned out that he was no different than the other. He did this.He stopped stop me dead in my tracks. He made it impossible to finish. He wanted me to fail.

    My eyes flashed open, the thousands of needles stabbing my eyes forgotten. They were nothing against rage that filled me. I could take Dorian. He was a foot short than I. I would slam him to the ground and then smash his smiling face. I would kill him for messing this up.

    I screamed as I surged forward to tackle him. I relished his surprise. I grinned at how he froze him in place. Then I slammed into the same wall my cart had.

    I bounced backward as if I was a toddler running into an adult. Shaking his head, he grabbed me, and with no signs of effort, he threw me over his shoulder. With a small hip check, he turned the cart sideways so it wouldn¡¯t roll.

    The world bounced as he started running. I twisted, kicked, and pounded on his back with every bit of strength I had left, but the iron vise never let up. He moved so fast. The incline didn''t even phase him. It wasn''t fair. I kept my eyes closed, cursing him the entire time.

    A bang. A shout. Then the world spun again, though this time it was probably my body moving.When the dizziness died down, I opened my eye to a comfortable dim light. A familiar light.

    Again? I was here again?

    I tried to sit up, but my body hurt too much. Instead, I rotated my head nearly retching at the sudden vertigo. Two figures, one short and one tall, stood at the door yelling at each other.

    I had seen enough. I was back here.

    I tried to curl up and hide, but my body screamed at the tiniest movement. Instead, I just started to laugh¡­gurgle? The dizziness deepened as I struggled to suck in enough air.

    Something pried open my eyes.A serious, green face stared down at me before it slid off to the right. I tried to steady my gaze, but even the slight effort generated more pain.

    She put a hand on my head probably cursing me the entire time. Her hand started to cool.At first it was refreshing, but it didn¡¯t stop. The temperature dropped until the cold burned.

    I shivered. It was too cold. ¡°Stop.¡±

    She didn¡¯t.

    My arms and legs cramped.I flailed.Someone grabbed my arms, pinning them to my stomach. My legs followed shortly after. My torturer had an accomplice. My muscles spasmed in tetany. I tried to scream. I tried to beg. My diaphragm wouldn¡¯t budge. She never stopped her work. She was killing me.

    Just end it.

    Then she did.

 17. Critical Care I

    Beep.Beep.

    I blinked. Fluorescent lights came into focus.

    Beep. Beep.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± Before I could turn my head, he said, ¡°don¡¯t. You aren¡¯t ready.¡±

    I stopped.¡°What happened?¡±Everything was so foggy.

    ¡°Burns.¡±

    That would explain why he didn¡¯t want me to move. But would that explain why I couldn¡¯t feel anything below my neck?

    He didn¡¯t let me dwell on the thought. ¡°How much do you remember?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t remember a fire, but a memory trickled in.¡°A CT, a stroke code, lightning.Was there an explosion?¡±

    There had been pain, and then¡­dinosaurs? Clearly my memory was suspect.

    ¡°Close enough.We need to discuss a few things, but first, tell me your name and birthdate.¡±

    ¡°Daniel Burkhart. 10/17/90.¡±

    ¡°Where are you?¡±

    ¡°A hospital.¡±Even without the beeping keeping time to my heart rate, I didn¡¯t need more than a glance to recognize the drop ceiling and fluorescent lights hiding behind their diffuser. ¡°Probably an ICU.¡± If I was this badly burned, where else could I be?

    ¡°Good enough. The date?¡±

    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Not unexpected.¡±

    ¡°It was about June 16th or 17th when I was last awake.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not quite that date anymore.¡±

    He didn¡¯t elaborate, but the snark couldn¡¯t hide the sadness in his voice.

    ¡°How long have I been out?¡± My voice quavered, ¡°and how bad is it?¡±

    ¡°Not as long as you think, and the burns are¡­extensive.¡±

    ¡°Disfiguring?¡° It slipped out. I wasn¡¯t vain, but then I had never expected this.I had a job that was patient facing.

    ¡°Possibly. Your face was spared, but you have full-thickness burns over 75% of your body, and¡­there are other complications.¡°

    ¡°Is that a nice way of saying I might not survive?¡°

    ¡°Yes.¡°

    Silence lingered. I exhaled the breath I had unknowingly been holding. I closed my eyes. How many times had I been in his position?¡°Is this where we talk about how much I want done?¡±

    ¡°If you want. You are just learning about what happened.¡°

    ¡°No. I had thought about this before.¡° I had. See enough people dying, and it made you question your own mortality. I long ago decided what I wanted.

    ¡°Okay.¡°

    I took the invitation. ¡°I am okay with resuscitation and intubation if there is a reasonable chance of recovery. But if I¡¯m not gonna be functional, then nothing heroic.¡°

    ¡°What do you mean by functional?¡°

    ¡°I need to be able to do my job.¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s a high bar. There is a lot to life besides being a doctor.¡±

    ¡°Is there?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Not for¡ª¡°

    I stopped abruptly. Was that still true? I had thought medicine was my passion. Helping people was what I had dreamt about since being a kid. The thrill of figuring out the complex cases was just a bonus. But could I still say that when I decided to leave it behind?

    I stewed in the silence he gave me. I had been growing tired, fighting to bite back snippy comments at nurses¡¯ and residents¡¯ mistakes. I had been ignoring the signs. I hadn¡¯t wanted to admit it, but at some point, I burned out.

    I winced as I let out an involuntary snort at my pun. I was in really bad shape if a stupid pun could hurt that much. Was this life¡¯s way of saying I should consider another avenue? Pretty extreme, though mom always said I had a thick skull.

    It pained me to say it. ¡°I could perhaps find a lower standard to shoot for. But I would need to be able to fulfill a purpose.¡±

    ¡°And that would be?¡±

    ¡°Being able to help.¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily with your hands?¡±

    My snort hurt. ¡°No. They were failing me as it was.¡±

    ¡°That is helpful. I probably dove it this too quickly. Typically, I have this conversation when the end is clear. We just don¡¯t have too much time.¡± The beeping in room sped up. ¡°Things are bad, but not as bad as you may think. You are not out of options. You have two, well technically three, options, though I doubt would choose doing nothing. These two are more than most really. You¡¯re lucky in someways. You have a specialist who could help you. She is good, but¡­¡±

    ¡°No guarantees. My other option besides letting this¡­specialist continue to work?¡°

    ¡°It is an experimental procedure. Outcomes would be mixed. You would recover physically, but you wouldn¡¯t be able to do your job well or at all.¡±

    ¡°At all?¡±

    ¡°You would be able to all your normal activities, but there is a high chance that high-order processing would be diminished. In that case, you would struggle as a doctor and any other jobs of a level.¡°

    I tried to wrap my head around how that could happen, and I couldn¡¯t. ¡°How would that work?¡±

    ¡°Your injuries are not just superficial. You also have diffuse nerve, muscles, and organ damage. It is amazing you are doing as well as you are. Most would have still been unresponsive at this point, but as I said, you were lucky you had access to a woman with her skills.¡±

    ¡°Can I wait to see if I decompensate before enrolling in the trial?Are the inclusion criteria strict?¡±

    ¡°It is not a trial.¡±

    ¡°You said it was experimental.¡±

    ¡°It is. You just wouldn¡¯t be receiving it through a trial.¡±

    Alarm bells went off in my head. ¡°What stage of research is it in?¡±

    ¡°Early.¡±

    ¡°Has it been tested before?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°We would be skirting the rules administering it to you, but¡­you are a special case.¡±

    ¡°Special?I am just a resident.¡±I was not some big donor.

    ¡°A resident who saved a man who has access to significant resources.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I whispered.Of all things, that guy in the CT was some sort of secret billionaire?He was wearing a wizard¡¯s costume.

    ¡°This clearly not-FDA-approved treatment will allow me to survive without any physical limitations, but it may affect my mind.How?¡±

    ¡°The mechanism is too complex to explain now.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just try me?¡±

    ¡°It is also proprietary.¡±

    Code speak for this line of questioning is done. ¡°Fine. ¡°What are my chances of survival without it?¡±

    ¡°I would estimate at survival at 50%, but full recovery, no more than 25%.¡±

    ¡°What is the range between full recovery and death?¡±

    ¡°Anywhere from needing full care to minimal disability.¡±

    ¡°And if I take it, I will have a guaranteed full physical recovery with the potential of diminished intelligence?¡±

    ¡°If it didn¡¯t have the guaranteed chance of recovery, I wouldn¡¯t be offering it to you.And just to make clear, this is full recovery¡ªno scarring.¡±

    ¡°None?¡±

    ¡°None.¡±

    It sounded like a miracle, well, near miracle.Every medicine had a cost, but full recovery?It sounded impossible.Five years ago, I wouldn¡¯t have believed something like this could exist, but then I saw CAR-T cell immunotherapies melt away cancer in some people with metastatic illness.I just had to risk my mind.

    Could I? I wanted to help. If I closed my eyes and plugged my ears, I could even make myself believe that I could make more of a difference in Pharma than working as a practicing clinician, but I might not even be able to that. My mind has always been my greatest asset.

    ¡°Tell me. Just how many strings were pulled for this?¡±

    ¡°Many.¡±

    ¡°This wouldn¡¯t happen for anyone else?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    Damn.I closed my eyes and blinked back tears. It had to be special treatment.I hated the injustice when VIPs cut in line.Medicine shouldn¡¯t be limited to those who could pay even if it was still in the earliest stages of research.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t fair,¡± I whispered.

    ¡°You worked hard. Trained for years. You saved a man.And we both know that life isn¡¯t fair.¡±

    No, it wasn¡¯t, but it didn¡¯t mean medicine shouldn¡¯t be.It drove me insane when colleagues would say that ¡°X terrible disease¡± couldn¡¯t happen to a nicer guy.Did being a bad person justify a terminal illness? We treated those people who needed help regardless of background without prejudice.

    ¡°Think of it as a reward.¡±

    Except that there were greater heroes out there than me who might benefit.I wouldn¡¯t be curing cancer, but someone out there might.

    ¡°Give it to someone else, someone who has less of a chance.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that is possible.¡±

    ¡°Will giving me this medication help with your research?¡±

    ¡°No. Quite the opposite actually.¡±

    ¡°How¡ªnever mind, it doesn¡¯t matter. I can¡¯t do this. Put the resources towards something else.¡±

    ¡°That might be able to be arranged, but are you sure?¡±

    ¡°I might have been able to give up medicine for a chance, but not if I am getting special treatment.¡± I would never be able to live down this gift, especially if my way to give back was lost.

    He snorted.¡°You are willing to die for your principles.¡±

    My mom¡¯s words echoed in my head. ¡°How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time.¡±

    Thick skull, mom. Thick skull.

    ¡°You said this specialist was good.I am willing to gamble.¡±

    A chair scooted back. Our conversation must be done, but I couldn¡¯t end it this way. ¡°Can you let my benefactor know how deeply I appreciate his offer. ¡°

    ¡°I will.¡±

    ¡°Is he doing okay?¡±

    ¡°Not full strength, but he is recovering.¡±

    ¡°Also, thank you for waking me up and giving me a choice. Many wouldn¡¯t have taken the risk.¡±

    ¡°I thought this conversation would be important to you.Now, I will let her get to work.¡±

    In the periphery, a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders that filled out the white coat walked towards the exit of my room.Each click of his heel on the floor hammered in the gravity of my choice. I closed my eyes.I had tossed away a guarantee without even knowing this specialist for a job and principles.

    The clicks stopped.I opened my eyes to find that he had stopped at the entrance to the room.He turned, and I got my first look at the man.His face radiated warmth and compassion.He pointed with his head.¡°You should pay attention to her work.I think you will find it enlightening.¡±

    Following his heterochromatic eyes, I looked up. A pair of hands with long, slender fingers appeared at the top of my vision. I squinted. That green was not a traditional color. Too dark.

    My eyes widened. Those weren¡¯t gloves¡ª

 18. Critical Care II

    Pa¡ª

    Everything dissolved into excruciating pain.

    Pay¡ª

    Searing pain enveloped me once more. I couldn¡¯t move. I couldn¡¯t scream. I couldn¡¯t string two thoughts together. I just suffered.

    Pay atten¡ª

    I tried to focus on the words, the only recourse I had, but in the face of such agony, my concentration kept fracturing.

    Pay attention to¡ª

    All of me and none of me hurt. It was as if my whole body was dipped in acid. Dying shouldn¡¯t feel this horrific. I had to be dying, right?

    I tried to scream as another round of pain wracked me.

    Pay attention to what¡ª

    I picked out more of the words as, for some reason, the last wave didn¡¯t overwhelm me. Another wave approached. Unlike before, I could actually feel the heat and pressure building. It was no longer a blazing inferno. It had a pattern, a pulse. I braced for another eruption of pain, but only a fraction of what I expected came.

    A temporary respite or something more?

    Another fiery wave spread outward, but it too had none of the intensity from earlier.

    What was going on?

    I tried to move, but nothing happened. I gulped¡ªor at least tried¡ªwhen the realization struck. I couldn¡¯t feel my arms, legs, or any part of my body. I tried to open my eyes, and nothing changed. A nightmare? Something in the back of my mind rejected that. I had made a choice. I had chosen this torture. But why?

    As if to confirm, pay attention to what she does.

    For once, I could. My world no longer a conflagration, I finally caught all the words. Except, what did they mean? And who was she?

    Another wave started to swell, and I braced for the inevitable. Wave after wave struck, but with each pulse, they changed. The waves narrowed until only thick ribbons of fire spread outward, diffusing into smaller and smaller strands that shot out in random directions. Still, each inch they traveled left a trail of agony so intense that it stole every bit of my focus, but they also burned their paths into my memory.

    The lines of fire varied, but some repeated. In the respite between each pulse, I pulled together my fragmented pieces of consciousness to study the paths along which the agony traveled. They repeated, inevitably flowing along fixed lines. Fixed paths with an organic pattern. Branches sprouting from a tree. A river forming a delta. Vessels and nerves. It couldn¡¯t¡­

    Another pulse came, nearly shattering my concentration. A pulse. Why? Why not constant agony? For the first time, I counted them. The frequency varied, but they bounced between two to three a second. One hundred twenty to one hundred eighty pulses per minute, or perhaps beats per minute? It would fit with pain¡¯s patterns, and while not a typical resting rate, but well into expectations for some in pain.

    Pay attention to what she does...

    Or else I will die.

    The voice didn¡¯t need to say it. As before, I just knew it to be the truth. For some reason, I had chosen this hell, chosen to risk my life. I must have chosen this for a reason.

    A wave as powerful as when I first came to rocked me. My thoughts blanked, and my consciousness almost slipped away. However, I still managed to follow it, and it provided the most complete picture of the paths. Even then, it was still just a fragment. If I could just compare¡ª

    Suddenly the picture became more complete as I managed to not only recall but also overlay every prior path the burning lines of agony took. Even as more pulses battered my mind, the image didn¡¯t dissolve. It shuddered and faded, but each time it reformed, it grew more and more defined, as if each pulse added more data to a model. I marveled at my ability to view it as a 3-D model. With just a thought, I rotated it around to view it from all angles.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Pay attention to what she does...

    The voice put me back on track. My amazement about my ability to process this information would have to wait. I tried overlaying my mental model of human organs. Most had little effect, but if I placed the heart there¡­

    I frowned, or at least tried to. This pattern was without a doubt related to the human body, but the heart was not the focus. It was close, but the majority of the painful energy formed a halo around it. My lungs?

    Another burst exploded from the core.  This one raced outward, racing towards my right arm.  I braced myself, but it inflicted a below-average level of pain.  However, another set followed, moving primarily towards my head.  A large but slow wave led the pack.  As it flowed upward, I could have sworn someone was scraping my insides with a razor.  The smaller waves surged past it, but the torture they inflicted paled in comparison to the largest¡ªexcept when they collided.  Every time that happened, the smaller waves amplified the agony coming from the largest one.

    I braced as a large wave moved closer to my head, but right as it was about to crash against the base of my brain, it died out. If I could, I would have breathed out a sigh of relief. However, more waves of various speeds and strengths raced upward after it. They too randomly lost strength as they approached my neck.

    Through the spikes of pain, I tried to understand what was happening. Those that died out closer to my neck seemed to generate more pain, not less. I followed another large pulse. This one almost dampened out completely right at the base of my neck. However, a sense of dread started to overtake me as it regained strength as it moved over the short distance between my clavicles and the base of my skull. A few of the faster pulses caught up to it just as it approached my head, and my world went white.

    ***

    I had no way to know how long I had been out. I mentally tensed as another set of fast pulses spread upward, trying to catch up to a slower, larger one. However, unlike last time, when they overlapped, they created just a sliver of the pain, rapidly fading somewhere in my neck.

    Why? What had changed?

    Even if the warning hadn¡¯t echoed in my mind, I knew I needed to nail down the pattern underlying this hell. Because there had to be one. Otherwise, it would be more random.

    Once again, I studied the phenomenon going on in my body, though this time I focused on my neck as pulse after pulse surged up from my chest. Sometimes, the waves overlapped, and other times, they didn¡¯t. Pain always worsened when they overlapped¡ªthough not always to the same degree.

    As they died out in the cervical region, I found more nuance in the pattern. Counter-intuitively, when the wave dampened closer to the bottom of my neck, I experienced more pain. If I put that together with the large surge, I could only come up with one reason for that: destructive interference.

    Out of phase waves opposing each other. One pushed; the other pulled. Sine and Cosine. Fire and Ice. Yin and Yang.

    I let my litany of comparisons fade. Something¡ªor more likely someone¡ªhad to be actively dampening the agony.

    I turned my attention to the opposing waves. One started in my chest and rolled out; the other, in my head and moved inward. However, the inward waves did not just come from my head. So distracted by the inferno in my head, I had missed it before. The pain also diminished as it reached my hands and feet, which meant counter waves also started in my extremities. The forces were more than just opposites, they also conformed to afferent and efferent flows of the body¡¯s vessels and nerves. Fascinating, except¡­they didn¡¯t make a true cycle. What the hell was going on?

    The words echoed once more in my mind, pay attention to what she does.

    ¡°Why?¡± I screamed in reply, but nothing answered my question.

    Fine. If I was stuck in this dream or, maybe more appropriately, nightmare, I would solve this puzzle. I started with the purpose. Assuming this was intentional, then it must have a reason for its design. With a bit of observation, it didn¡¯t take long to suss out the aim.

    Though subtle, the inferno in my chest diminished with each pulse. The system was losing energy. It would burn itself out given enough time¡ªtime I might not have.

    Do I care?

    The dark thought niggled away. I had dark ruminations before in some of the tougher times, but this one felt more grounded in reality. I tried to reach back, remembering why, but found only hazy thoughts. I had given up¡ªthrown away?¡ªso much.

    Should I just give up?

    Some of the counter surges began to falter. When they did, the red-hot pokers returned. Thankfully, the burst of pain didn¡¯t wrack my whole body, just random parts of my body¡ªmy right lateral palm and fingers, my right shoulder, the soles of both my feet. Unfortunately, the failure rate of the counter surges continued to increase. Whatever¡ªno, if I could believe the litany repeating in my mind, she¡ªwas helping me was flagging, failing. However, she was trying. I mattered to someone. And, I didn¡¯t give up.

    I found my resolve. I could help. I needed to help, but how?

    I tried to mimic the soothing pulses, but I couldn¡¯t recreate the complexity. The waves weren¡¯t just a single pulse. Each contained harmonics and subharmonics. A slight shift would dampen the fire in one place but allow it to build in another. Some of my attempts actually diminished the effectiveness of the original counter-pulse.

    Fire seared my right shoulder as I failed another attempt to match the complexity of the counter pulse. It was futile. At best, I could generate a singular pulse in support.

    A stabbing tingling spread across my right hand. Actually, not the entire hand. The pain only involved part of the hand right by the pinky, ring finger, and the hand just below them. For such a small area, it packed a punch. Why the hell did it have to hit this place again¡­

    It couldn¡¯t be, but then the next streak of pain radiated from the center of my back, around my left flank, and then ended at my umbilicus. I played back all the places the waves broke through. They all fit patterns I was intimately familiar with: the sensory pattern of nerves and nerve roots. Right ulnar nerve, right C5 nerve root, bilateral S1 nerve roots, right superficial radial nerve, and left T10 nerve root. Sure, vessels played a role, but the pattern better mimicked the nervous system.

    Heat started to build in two-thirds of my palm near my thumb. The counter-wave would fail. I couldn¡¯t do complex waves, but I could do a quick burst. I went with my gut and targeted the median nerve as it traveled through the carpal tunnel. The line of fire sputtered for a fraction of a second before it returned to raging. Close. Another line of heat grew across my chest at my nipple line. The T4 sensory distribution. I tried generating a wave starting at my sternum. A coolness spread around my torso to my back, but it faded a few milliseconds later. Except, that was a few milliseconds more than the last time.

    The fiery inferno in my chest spewed out wave after wave. With each one, I improved. As my savior continued to flag, my assistance improved, almost impossibly fast. My knowledge of anatomy had never been this good. I could see every pathway as if I was reading it directly from a book or computer model. A few times my attempt failed, but that was only because my body didn¡¯t exactly match the textbook. It was close enough for me to shore up the points at which she failed to reach until the conflagration became dying coals, then ashes.

    As the pulses of agony faded to background, a soft lub-dub began to fill the air. I kept count. Sixty beats a minute. Steady. Consistent.

    I opened my eyes and found a pair of hands still covered my face. Long and delicate, but strong. Through the light that seeped through the cracks, I couldn¡¯t mistake the subtle green tone. Alien, and yet familiar. Healer¡¯s hands. Their work was done, and they pulled away. I found myself in the same ICU room with the doctor that gave my choice. He had remained standing at the door¡¯s edge, watching me. His smile reflected the delight in his eyes, one black, one pale blue.

    Did that mean I survived?

    He nodded, answering my question without saying a word. As he walked away, I leaned back, sighed in relief, and closed my eyes.

 19. A Return to the Living

    My eyes opened to a familiar dark room.

    Esper.

    She had to be the doctor in my dream.  Though, was it really a dream?  So much remained muddled, but I remembered the green skin.

    I called out her name, but all I received was a snort.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t that lucky.¡±

    Dorian.

    I sat up, and the world spun, but this time only for seconds. ¡°What happened?¡°

    ¡°Somehow, you managed to piss off both [Healers]. True, I haven¡¯t actually talked to the V¨ªsir about you, but¡­you know¡­you¡¯re human.  So, that was a given.¡°  He sat back in the wood chair and crossed a leg, ¡°However, Esper wasn¡¯t.  I have never seen her so angry before.  What did you do?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± I pinched my temples as they throbbed.  ¡°I don¡¯t think I am up for that right now.¡±

    ¡°Sure.  Sure.  I understand.  And now I don¡¯t have to worry about you muscling in our budding relationships.  I have enough competition as it is.¡±

    It was my turn to snort, and this time, my body didn¡¯t hurt.  It was just the opposite.  I practically thrummed with energy. ¡°Dang, what¡¯s wrong with me?  Dorian, what happened?¡°

    ¡°You pissed her off.¡±

    ¡°I am not in the mood for jokes.¡±

    ¡°I am not kidding.  You are really lucky she puts her duty above her feelings.  Whatever you did didn¡¯t stop her from somehow pulling the excess Aether from your system after you overdosed on it. ¡±

    ¡°How did I¡ª ¡°

    I stopped as this experience filled in the last piece of the puzzle that I didn¡¯t even know I had been working on.  Aether.  It had to be the key to how Dorian could shatter stone, the V¨ªsir could heal, and probably every other superhuman or magical ability.  Without realizing it, I must have been doing the same when I pulled the cart far too heavy for me. I had been using Aether to supercharge my strength.  When I didn¡¯t have enough, I sucked in more with focused breathing until I took in too much.  But why then?  It had been fine until I went into the new shaft.

    Questions for later.  ¡°So, she saved me again.  How much do I owe her now?¡±

    ¡°Not as much as you think, at least not from a life-debt standpoint. You might even be even!  I¡¯m not sure, but she talks to herself as she works.  It sounded like she believed you helped.¡±  He snorted as if that was impossible.

    Back at home, I wouldn¡¯t have hesitated to agree with him, but that dream¡­did that really happen?  Could I have actually helped?

    I¡­I didn¡¯t have it in me to dig deeper.  ¡°How would that matter?¡±

    ¡°You did more than survive, which on its own surprised both of us.  You not only survived but helped her break through a tier.  A tier!  It takes something significant to make that happen.  We should be celebrating.  And as a bonus, you refilled her Energy.  She sprinted out as soon as you were safe to help heal others.  She is going to level even more today, and for whatever reason, I think she believes that you helped.  Honestly, you¡¯re damn lucky. A damn lucky fool.  Don¡¯t ever try that again.  Most [Healers] wouldn¡¯t have the skill to do what she did at her level.  Until seeing Esper do it, only the V¨ªsir has the skills in the camp, and she would have just let you die.¡±

    He thought I was lucky.  I closed my eyes, tilted my head back against the wall, and let out a laugh.  ¡°If you say so.¡±

    The chair creaked.  ¡°I do, and you should drill that into your skull.  There are far safer ways to charge up a [Healer].  Now come on.  I bet you are hungry.  Let¡¯s get out of here before the V¨ªsir returns.¡±

    We walked out of the hut into the clearing.  The sun lit the cliff face, and trees¡¯ shadows, like the fangs of a beast, closed in on the camp.  I had been out for some time. As we walked towards the break between the buildings, I had my first full view of the hill that tried to kill me.

    ¡°The cart!¡±  It was gone.  All that work¡­

    ¡°I took care of it. I got shooed out as soon as you were settled in this cot.  Apparently, my pacing interfered with Esper¡¯s work.   It was pretty clear which one was yours.  So, I took care of it and the rest of your work for the day.¡±

    ¡±Dorian¡­¡°

    He waved away my concerns.  ¡°It was the least I could do to make up for my mistake.¡±

    ¡°Mistake?  I don¡¯t see how you screwed up.¡±

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have left you alone, not when they were so obvious. The damn greenskins hate Humans, and never mind that the Verndari cares only for money.  I am sure he saw this as a way to hurt both of us. I should¡¯ve warned you.  I should¡¯ve been there.¡±

    ¡°Dorian.¡±

    He continued as if he didn¡¯t hear me, ¡°I should¡¯ve¡ª¡°

    ¡°Dorian.¡±  My yell to cut him off, but it also caused him to drop into a fighting stance, hand going for his belt.

    His head swiveled. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±  What was with the place?  His reaction was too much.  ¡°Sorry.  You can relax.  I don¡¯t see anything dangerous.  I just want you to stop berating yourself. You have done more for me than anyone else in this damn place.¡±  He opened his mouth, and I jabbed a finger at him.  ¡°No, not even if you are about to say Esper¡¯s name.  She healed me, but she¡­¡± abandoned me, her patient. Though, maybe Dorian and everyone else didn¡¯t see that way.  ¡°She¡­isn¡¯t here now.  You are the only one that has been there for me.¡±

    He stared at me, and then a small smile cracked his lips. ¡°Boy, was she pissed.¡±  Eyes squinted, he leaned in.  ¡°Wait, does that mean she actually likes you?¡±

    I stopped in my tracks and stared at him.  ¡°Where do you think we are?  High school?¡±  He gave me a strange look as my words didn¡¯t translate.  I shook my head.  ¡°Forget it.  I am sure the answer is no.¡±

    ¡°Good, because otherwise, I would have to throw you back into the mine.¡±

    I rolled my eyes, but then I narrowed my eyes.  ¡°Wait.  Are you really into her?¡±  His short pause told me everything.  Maybe I was in high school.  ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about me.  I am pretty sure she never wants to see me again, not that I would be your biggest problem.¡±  Instead of high school, Romeo and Juliet was a more proper comparison, given the sheer animosity between Oresiani and ?ttir. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    He frowned.  ¡°Yeah.  I doubt you will be able to put in a good word for me.¡±   He tapped his thick lips.  ¡°She was pretty pleased after she purged the Aether and drained the Energy out of you. Do you think that would work for me?¡±

    I groaned as I sat up.  ¡°I don''t recommend it.¡±

    He laughed.  ¡°Yeah. Only the truly stupid would try that.¡±

    I stood up only to start coughing. Dorian clapped my back a few times while handing me a rag. ¡°Best to get it out now.¡±

    I managed to stop only after hacking up what felt like a lung.  I took a look at what I expectorated and flinched.

    ¡°That¡¯s not dust if that was what you were thinking.¡±

    I had because if dust hadn¡¯t turned sputum a deep black, that left¡­necrotic tissue.  I eyed the red flecks mixed with the black phlegm. What had I done to my lungs?

    Dorian, unaware of my internal musings, continued.  ¡°I hear lung rot is common among Humans since so many can¡¯t obtain or afford a skill to suppress dust, but you won¡¯t have that problem working with me.  No, that¡¯s your body trying to get rid of what you sucked in.  It would have happened eventually, but Esper made it happen faster.¡±

    I looked at the tarry sputum once more.  ¡°You are saying this is what...Aether?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly.  Sure, there is some in there, but it is mostly the crap that your body generates when you breathe in too much Aether.¡±  I gave him a questioning look.  ¡°Don¡¯t ask me.  I am not a [Healer].  Just get it out. The faster, the better.  It ain¡¯t good for your channels, and it will leave you more susceptible to Aether toxicity, which will be a problem.¡±

    My mind, still slowed by whatever had happened, finally parsed what he said.  ¡°No. You don¡¯t mean.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know it isn¡¯t fair, but you need to drag yourself back to the mine tomorrow.  It will make a statement.  Say what you will about the greenskins, they truly respect resolve.¡±

    I have to go back tomorrow?  It isn¡¯t¡­fair?

    I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.  I knew better than most just how unfair it could be.  How many young, healthy people had I seen struck down by cancer or some other neurodegenerative disorder completely out of their control?  Dorian was right.  The Verndari did this on purpose.  Coming back would make a statement.

    Coughs wracked my body once more.  When they calmed down, I unwrapped the rag in morbid fascination.  More of the coal-black sputum tinged with red stained the coarse, beige rag.  What I wouldn¡¯t give for an x-ray or CT to better understand what was happening.

    I tried to take a few steps.  Dorian watched each one, but he didn¡¯t extend a hand, but that offer was not far away.

    ¡°I can make it.  I just need to take it a bit slow.¡±  My muscles groaned with each step, but they didn¡¯t feel close to collapsing.  They burned, but I could live with that.  No, my lungs were the weak link.  I started wheezing at the halfway mark, but at least I made it to the room¡¯s door before I started coughing. My vision went grey, but I waved Dorian back.  Between coughs, I got out, ¡°I am fine.  Just need a second. And possibly a few more rags.¡±

    He nodded, grabbing another before waving me forward towards the exit.  ¡±Come on then. Let¡¯s get you out of here.  You are going to need more rest.¡±

    ***

    We went left, heading towards the last major cluster of buildings in this camp that I had not yet visited.  With each step, we gained more speed as my breathing came easier and the tightness in my chest loosened.  By the time we had made it three-quarters of the way, the vise around my chest had relaxed, but Dorian stopped to give me a small break.  Even from this distance, I could tell this was some sort of residential area.  Swarms of people entered and exited longhouses.  Some headed off to the mine, but the majority funneled into a large building on par with the Quartermaster.

    Noticing my gaze, Dorian provided an explanation. ¡°Dinner started, and the food goes fast.¡±

    My stomach growled.  ¡°Great. Because, apparently, I am hungry.¡±

    However, instead of moving towards the dining hall, he veered off towards the longhouses.  ¡°I will get your food today.  No need to¡­expose you to that mess.  While the Commons serves three full meals a day, most companies don¡¯t leave the mines for lunch, even with sparse lunch rations.  Dinners are always¡­crowded.¡±

    I eyed him.  There was more than he was letting on, but I didn¡¯t have it in me to push.  Instead, we continued to walk towards the longhouses.  Unlike the other clusters of buildings, the longhouses did not open into a central courtyard.  A central path divided the longhouses into two distinct sets arranged in rows like barracks.  Even though the number of people exiting the longhouses had dropped to a trickle, I couldn¡¯t help but notice that only ?ttir or Volki exited from each respective set. Segregated, like everything else in this place.  And where did that leave me?

    However, instead of heading towards either row of barracks, we veered off on a small path towards a single longhouse separated from the rest.  About half the size of the others and resting a short walk from the other two groups of longhouses, I had given it little attention.  Still, I would have noticed a person leaving from there.  The whole time, nobody came or went from the building.  Even the windows were shuttered.

    Dorian didn¡¯t answer. I followed as he walked to the door.   He didn¡¯t bother knocking before he opened it.  He made no effort to clear a space for me to enter first.  He took a single step into the dark room, scanning it way too carefully.

    Is nothing safe here?

    I paused at the doorway, frowning as dust motes kicked into the air by his steps danced in the small section of light cast by the dwindling sunlight.

    Definitely abandoned.  No one could live with this amount of dust.

    Not needing more junk in my lungs, I cleared the air with a few swats.  Memories still fresh of the terrors this world¡¯s darkness hid, I didn¡¯t dare leave the doorway.  My caution earned me a nod of approval from Dorian as he checked on me. Then, a faint light emanated from the left side of his face as he took a cautious step deeper, sweeping the room with his gaze. The glow from his face, or rather Marks, winked out after two passes. Without taking his eyes from the room¡¯s depth, Dorian stretched his arm backward.

    The Marks on his arms flashed, and I blinked as the light filled the longhouse, revealing beds with hand-carved frames lining the wall. Dorian walked down the central aisle made by a series of four beds on each side.  While better made than the healer¡¯s lodge, it had not nothing on the General Supply.  Together, it has more of a rustic feel, perfectly fit for a summer camp.  However, my appreciation for the craftsmanship did rise as none of Dorian¡¯s steps elicited a single squeak from the floorboards.

    Dorian finished his sweep, stopping in front of the closest bed.  He swept his arm in a grand gesture.  ¡°This is all yours.¡±

    Compared to the cot I had woken up in, it was absolutely luxurious¡ªtoo luxurious. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that blankets and sheets were thrown back and left in disarray in all but one of the beds.

    I walked over to inspect one.  A coarse blanket lay crumpled together with off-white sheets.  The blanket¡¯s thickness spoke of nights colder than any I had experienced here so far.  The layer of dust on the bedpost gave another hint of the last time this place had guests.

    ¡°Should I be expecting company?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    The unexpected harshness in his reply made me instantly regret my levity.  Still, I held back the obvious questions about what happened to the previous owners. Something about this place clearly bothered him.  After everything he had done caring for me, I didn¡¯t need to repay him with prying.  After all, right now, only two things mattered: ¡°Was it safe?¡±  He nodded. ¡°Will I be,¡± I groped for the right words, ¡°charged extra for all this space?¡±

    ¡°No, not unless you were unwilling to share, but¡­that won¡¯t be an issue.¡±  He turned away as he spoke, but not before I caught a pained look flash across his face.

    Maybe I have died and gone to hell.

    Pushing that thought away, I opted to change the subject. ¡°A bit dark in here. Anything we can do about the lights?¡±

    He laughed, all trace of his dark mood gone. ¡°The plate¡¯s right behind you.  Actually, hold on.¡±  He waved his hand towards a light stone adhered to the back wall.  It then burst into a warm glow, wiping away most of the shadows in the room. ¡°Better?¡±

    ¡°Much.¡±

    ¡°Good. While the plate for the rest of the lights is behind you, you might want to do them individually after what you went through.  I am sure you are a bit drained, but it shouldn¡¯t tire you out too much.  Also, there¡¯s nothing like Projecting to give you an idea of how your channels are doing.  Give that a try, and then,¡± he motioned to the only made bed in the place, ¡°why don¡¯t you settle in while I get some food.¡±

    ¡°Settle in?  Sure.  That won¡¯t take long.¡±  After all, I carried on me everything I owned in the world.  Scrubs, a sweater, a white coat, and a reflex hammer¡ªthe perfect combination for living in the wilderness.

    ¡°You might have more after tonight.  You can take anything you find in here.  Unlike at the Quartermaster, this stuff has a better chance of fitting you.¡±  I barely caught the next comment he muttered as he walked out the door.  ¡°The previous owners sure won¡¯t be asking for it back.¡±

 20. Learning to Channel I

    I tried to put aside the implications of mutterings as I gave the room another once over.  The room held eight beds, seven unmade.  Seven men who had not returned from mine.

    I walked over to a small chest of drawers.  A set of them sat between each bed. Holding my breath, I ran my finger along the top of one chest of drawers, leaving a line in the fine layer of dust.  Just how long had this place sat empty?

    I slipped my hand under the top drawer¡¯s handle, but I didn¡¯t pull.  If I could believe what Dorian had said, and I had no reason not to, the contents were mine.  However, they were dead.  To take from the deceased¡­  I released the handle.  No need to kick up more of the dust for my lungs to handle.  Plus, I could use more light.  With windows shuttered, closing the door eliminated the last bit of natural light.  One light stone barely cut it.  I needed to learn how these light stones worked.  The nights here would be dark, and if I ever found myself alone in the mine, I would want to know how my only source of light worked.  Also, most buildings here kept their shutters closed even during the day.  There had to be a reason.  Hopefully, it was the cold night air and not monsters¡­

    I walked to an unlit stone in the center of a side wall.  Like the other, its design most resembled a sconce.  A wooden ring extended from the wall, suspending a milky-white stone in the air.  Its surface, while irregular, lacked the angularity I would have attributed to a crystal.  The bumps marring the smooth surface seemed more for lack of finishing than the material¡¯s inherent properties.   It also told me nothing about how to light it.

    I gave it a soft touch. Nothing.  I leaned in to examine it.  No obvious switch.  It sat on a stone disc that perfectly matched the stone¡¯s base.  I ran my fingers around its entire surface.  Again, nothing.  I tried to lift the stone off the ring, but I met with no small amount of resistance.  It didn¡¯t budge when I applied the strength that I would have used to pick up a full mug of coffee.  Only by using two hands did I even manage to move it.  Even then, I pried up just a small edge before it snapped back to sconce with a dull thump.

    Magnets?   But this had to be wood.  It had the grains and natural color of¡­well, unfinished wood.  Yet, when I tried giving the sconce a light pull, it acted like iron for all the give it had. Maybe other people could break it with their inhuman strength, but I probably could have hung from it without doing a thing.  Not that I would dare test it.  I already carried too much debt.

    Instead, I opted to slip my fingers along the bottom of the sconce, trying to find an on switch or a release mechanism.  Radiating from the center, I found subtle grooves too regular to be natural.  Etchings?

    My hand had already made it to my chest pocket to grab my penlight before I remembered that I had lost it. Old habits died hard.  I bent down to get a better look, but without light, I lost the details in the shadows. Pressing on them did nothing, as well.

    ¡°How the heck does this work?¡± I whispered.

    Was touching it the right way?  Dorian hadn¡¯t even put his hand on it. I stepped backward and mimicked the gesture.  Nothing.

    ¡°Light.  Illuminate.  On.  Turn on, dammit!¡±  I growled when my words did nothing.  Dorian made it look so easy.  I would not be beaten by a damn light.

    I squinted at the dark stone.  The V¨ªsir had asked if I had charged it, and Dorian thought the practice would help me.  It wasn¡¯t too much of a stretch to believe lighting the stone required a sort of energy transfer.

    I touched the crystal, putting a slight pressure on the smooth surface.  As expected, no light. I closed my eyes, willing something to flow into the crystal.  Again nothing.  I repeated my efforts on each edge without success.  Each failure increased my frustration.  I huffed in frustration as I pulled my hand away, only to freeze.  My fingers, less than an inch from the stone, tingled as when I had worked with the potion.  But more importantly, the stone had released a flash of light.

    I stared at it in disbelief.  Had that actually happened?  I leaned in close, willing myself to be able to see even the tiniest trace of light inside the milky-white stone.  Even when I shaded the stone, I found nothing.  It had come and gone in less than a blink of an eye, but I hadn¡¯t imagined it, not when my finger tingled just like using the potion.

    I put my fingers back onto the smooth, crystalline surface.  I stared, waiting for the light to return.  It provided only disappointment.

    Again?

    My head slumped, and I didn¡¯t try to hold back a long sigh. However, another burst of light brought my head upward.  My breath caught, and then the fledging light flickered and dimmed.

    ¡°No, no, no, no,¡± I gasped.  And as if hearing me, the light¡¯s intensity and, with it, the tingling in my fingertips flared.

    I took a long, deep breath to center my thoughts, and, of course, the stone responded.  A pale glow began to emanate from the stone.  As soon as I held my breath, the stone began to dim.  I took another long breath, taking in the growth in the intensity of the light and tingling in my fingers.  I continued until it hit the same brightness as the other stone.  Then, I removed my hand, and it stayed lit.

    I couldn¡¯t keep the smile from my lips.  I had figured it out.  Breathing played some role in what had to be a form of energy transfer.  Then it all fell into place, and I mentally kicked myself for not seeing it earlier.  Even disregarding hindsight, it should have been obvious.  I had only been able to move the cart when I had fallen into a pattern of rhythmic, deep breathing. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Of course, I had to be missing details. What exactly did breathing do?  Was it pulling in energy?  Aether?  Was it necessary?  Dorian lit the stone with just a wave of his hand.  I hadn¡¯t needed a special breathing pattern to do whatever I did to that healing potion.

    I let out a sad laugh.  Potions.  Not medicine.  What a world to be in. I was returning to the dark ages both in terms of my tools and my understanding.  I needed information.  Even on my own, I could do better.  This may be a new world, but I didn¡¯t enter it truly empty-handed.  I had my knowledge¡ªand more than just modern medicine.  I had what underpinned it.  Science.  Even if I didn¡¯t have any tools, I had the methods, and they were powerful when used correctly.  I just needed to start with some assumptions and test them with experiments; the first subject would be Aether.

    It had to be important, if not the key, if only because why else would they come out here to mine those crystals?  As best as I could tell, it came in varying intensities or densities.  I would postulate that Aether allowed my body to surpass its norms.  The two together would explain why deep breathing worked far better when pulling the cart inside the mine as opposed to outside it.  It would also explain why I developed Aether toxicity.  In that cavern with untouched crystals, I was essentially hyperventilating air with a higher concentration of a toxin. Not my finest hour.

    Though, Aether toxicity was a known phenomenon, which meant my teammates let this happen¡ªor possibly encouraged it. That time remains muddled, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the Verndari somehow encouraged this outcome. Dorian already implied as much.  More enemies for just existing.

    Maybe someday I will catch a break.

    I returned to my musing.  For my next question, did Aether affect non-living things?  I favored yes, and probably in many different ways.  However, right now, I had only one way to vary Aether concentration.

    I walked over to where I left the rag containing my spittle.  If Dorian was correct, whatever I coughed up should still contain Aether and likely high-density Aether based on where I inhaled it.  So if Aether can work as a power source¡­

    I brought the rag to an unlit stone, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile as the stone lit up. I tried different parts of the stone.  It didn¡¯t matter the direction. The light intensity varied solely on the distance from the stone.  The range was quite short, about one inch, except for one direction.  For some reason, when I positioned my Aether source at the base, the light became much brighter, even with keeping the distances the same.  Was that from the etchings or something else in the design?

    Regardless, it supported Aether¡¯s use as a power source¡ªjust not a good one. Even when touching, the light never came too close to the intensities I generated.  That meant I could generate higher concentrations of Aether, or another mechanism existed. The former seemed wrong.  If I could generate highly concentrated Aether, why would it be toxic?

    I could come up with some convoluted mechanism, but the simplest answer was that another way existed. Dorian had wanted me to practice on the light.  With a little more practice, perhaps I could figure it out.

    I put my hand on the unlit stone.  Could I do this without a large breath?   After a few normal breaths, the answer came back as a resounding no.  The hint of that telltale tingling suggested I was close, but I couldn¡¯t turn on the light.  I slowly increased the depth of my breathing.  I kept the rate slow, but I was becoming more lightheaded with each breath.  Hyperventilation, not toxicity.  Complete conjecture, but it gave me solace.  Nonetheless, I was close.  I just had to¡ª

    The light flickered on.  I focused on the tingling in my fingers. As paresthesias went, it wasn¡¯t unpleasant.  I slowed my breath, and the light and tingling faded.  Definitely a link, but what was the mechanism?

    The lungs initiated the process.  I sucked in a deep breath, and as expected the light and tingling ramped up. However, this time I held my breath.  As the seconds ticked by, again began to fade, but I held on until my lungs started to burn¡ªand tingle?

    I exhaled sharply in surprise, and¡­something surged down my arm.  When it hit my fingers, the stone¡¯s brightness flared.  I yanked my hand back, and the light stuttered and dimmed.  I stared at my fingers. I shifted my gaze between my fingers and stone as the tingling and light faded to nothing.

    What the hell was that?

    I sucked in another breath and tried again.  Again I detected that tingling in my lungs.  The abnormal sensation in my fingers had distracted me. This time I held my breath and examined the sensation in my lungs.  I could not describe it, but I had this sensation that something was trying to flow from my lungs to other parts of my body.  It wasn¡¯t just the arm, though it called the most, especially when I touched the stone.

    I turned my attention to that sensation in my lungs. It was faint, but more noticeable now that I didn¡¯t let my brain filter it out.  I held my breath and urged on whatever wanted to move down my arm. I scrunched my face so hard in concentration that my head began to ache, but like a dam breaking, the resistance vanished.  A strange energy surged down my arm.  The light stone flared to life.

    I kept pushing, filling the stone with more of the fuel it needed.  Whatever I was doing was working far better than hyperventilating, but it took a toll. I blinked, batting away fatigue. As I continued, my lungs started to burn.  My brain begged for air.  I sucked in a breath as my vision started to tunnel.

    The fatigue lifted immediately, but it didn¡¯t completely fade for another breath.  After a few more breaths, the shaking in my hands also died down. However, the memory of that air hunger remained.  Except, it had to be more than air hunger.  I had only held my breath for seconds.  Seconds!  I should have been able to hold my breath far longer.  Lighting that stone did something.

    Dramatically increased consumption of oxygen?   Maybe.  But why not CO2 or even nitrogen?  I was dealing with a new biology.  Just how much of my medical knowledge was still valid?

    I shook away that dark thought and pulled back my hand to better admire my work. Getting bogged down in hypotheticals was useless.  I had succeeded.  The stone glowed with a warm light.

    My eyes widened.  How could I have not noticed?

    I touched the crystal again to confirm.  Almost no heat.  It was better than an LED bulb. The efficiency¡­.

    I shook my head and moved to the last stone. New challenge: duplicate the result while breathing normally.  I touched the dull stone. I focused on the thing¡ªI¡¯d call it energy¡ªswirling in my lungs.  It was there, but not quite tangible. I pushed, hitting the familiar, though decreased, resistance.  Energy flowed down my arm, illuminating the light¡ªuntil I lost concentration.

 21. Learning to channel - II

    Just like that, the energy cut off, and the stone dimmed before my eyes. I tried again, but my breaths kept disrupting me.  The energy scattered, sending a wave of tingling down my torso and limbs. I closed my eyes in an effort to focus and fight against the building frustration.  I needed to focus on the movements of the energy.  If I could do that¡­

    I groaned as I remembered Dorian¡¯s comment. Practicing on the light would be good for my channels.  Of course, I had ignored that nonsense about channels, but I wasn¡¯t on Earth.  Some would say I was doing magic by lighting this stone with a touch.  Or I could just be doing this all wrong and the stone was just the equivalent of a lamp that turns on with a touch. Probably not.

    These pathways might be the key, but how did I access them?

    In response, a memory tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn¡¯t quite grasp it.  Yet¡­

    I dropped my arms to my side and took a deep breath.  Air, and likely Aether, filled my lungs, followed by a warm tingling as energy surged in them.  As soon as it crossed a threshold, it spread outwards into the rest of my body. It was just fast and too diffuse to follow.  I needed to slow it down and only allow a trickle. If I could push it out, could I pull or restrain it?

    My effort was clunky, but eventually, I succeeded.  I locked down the energy to just my lungs.  A subtle fatigue accompanied the act, but it was nothing like before.  Now I was getting somewhere.  I just needed to slightly push the limits of my containment.

    It was easier than expected.  I just varied the depth of my breathing.  Whatever wall I had erected had cracks. Instead of a gush, the energy trickled outward down various pathways¡ªdiscrete pathways.  The channels spread down into my arms and legs and across my torso in fine bands. The arms were the easiest. The stone acted as a sink, sucking in the energy and causing trickles to intensify into small streams.  However, by stretching my concentration, I could follow each spillover of energy as it moved to other parts of my body.  After multiple attempts, I could make out a pattern, a very familiar pattern.

    It couldn¡¯t be that easy.  These pathways, or channels to use the Dorian parlance, mimicked the nervous system, but the coincidence was too much.  Or was it?  Biologically, it could make sense, and a memory from my Aether-induced stupor seemed to agree.  So much of that time remained a haze, but I couldn¡¯t shake the fact that I was rediscovering something I already knew.

    So I ran with it even given some discrepancies.  For all I knew, the channels piggybacked on nerves.  Of course, that created another set of questions: How did lungs interface with nervous systems?  Was the autonomic innervation to the lung robust enough?   Could I draw in Aether through another method besides breathing?

    The questions would make an interesting dissertation¡ªno,  research career.  If that path had been open when I was doing my Ph.D¡­.  I shook my head.  Not happening here, but at least my medical knowledge might not be completely useless.

    Now that I have a hypothesis regarding the channels, how do I test it?

    Compression could impair neural conduction. Could it do the same to a channel? At least four nerves in the extremities were prone to compressive injuries: median, ulnar, radial, and peroneal. Of those, compression of the median nerve at the wrist should be the easiest to test. I could adapt the simple maneuver used to check for carpal tunnel syndrome.  I had worked up hand numbness so many times in my outpatient clinic that I didn''t even need to think to recall the exact spot at the base of my palm to press for a minute.  Though, this time, my memory regarding the maneuvers was sharper, with pictures and even parts of a video coming to me unbidden.

    I paused.  Why is this happening?

    In response, a set of words echoed in the back of my mind: [Eidetic Memory: Medicine].

    I couldn¡¯t deny their importance, and did I want to?  If I had somehow gained that ability, I wouldn¡¯t complain.  I didn¡¯t have any access to medical books or online evidence-based resources.  If I had them at my metaphorical fingertips¡­

    Unfortunately, they weren¡¯t everything.  Nothing from my memory would help with the next part.  The carpal tunnel compression test checked for an already irritated nerve. Compressing a healthy nerve for a short time shouldn¡¯t result in any numbness or tingling. So, if the adapted test failed to evoke any symptoms, it wouldn''t disprove my hypothesis.  However, a positive result would be illuminating, especially since the test was quick, and I might have a way to improve its chances.

    I hyperventilated to ramp up the energy in my body.  Once I felt like my body was waking up from being dipped in novocaine, I tried the carpal tunnel compression test.  I pressed my left thumb at the base of my right palm and counted.  Nothing changed at first, but at a count of thirty, the tingling in my first three fingers diminished.  I wiggled them, and they moved without a hint of numbness or weakness.

    Now for the test.  I touched the stone.  It lit up, but not at a brightness commensurate with energy flowing through me.  Positive so far.  I released the pressure on my palm.  A familiar sensation returned to my fingers, and with it, light burst from the stone.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    It worked.  The lack of tingling was the complete opposite of the expected positive for this test, but nonetheless, it supported my hypothesis.  I had impaired conduction.

    I let the light in the stone die out and planned my next test.  I could impair energy flows, but could I generate them without a sink for the energy?  Without touching the stone, I focused on building up my internal energy.  I was getting better at it, both in generating energy and keeping contained.  I could now build up a noticeable bit more without it spilling outward or generating a headache.

    I released the energy, but it didn¡¯t flow down my arm like before.  I had to actually force with a mental push that caused my head to throb.  However, with some effort, I filled my arm with energy until I felt just enough of the telltale tingling in my fingers to partially light the stone.  I touched the stone, and it flared so bright that I reflexively closed my eyes.  I flinched back, but I didn¡¯t let go of the stone.  I couldn¡¯t.  The stone wouldn¡¯t let me.  It pulled on my finger and, through it, the energy I was holding.

    The force disappeared in less than a second. I would have thought myself delusional if I hadn¡¯t seen how the light stone reacted.  Even blinking to clear the spots in my eyes, I caught the stone dim before rapidly increasing to full illumination.  It was as if the surge of energy had created a subsequent vacuum, sucking the energy from me to fill the void.  Such strange behavior, but at least I knew a way for quick activation, for whatever good that did me.

    Now, I could turn on a light, but could I turn it off?

    After a few tries, I figured it out, though with limited success.  Trying to just ¡°pull¡± energy from the light worked, but barely.  After a few more tries, I increase my efficiency by accidentally starting before I let the energy drain from my finger.  With just a smidge of energy in my hand, pulling energy from the stone became easier.  I improved it further by using the burst of light as inspiration.  While I couldn¡¯t create a burst, I could create a vacuum of sorts.  By cycling energy through my entire arm save the fingers touching the stone, I increased the pull.

    I played with turning the light on and off, smiling the entire time. I was making discoveries.   Now, I had one more trick to try.  First the V¨ªsir, then Dorian had lit the stone from afar, and so would I.  Except, of course, it wasn¡¯t easy.

    No matter how hard I pushed into my hand, I could not get the stone to turn on.  I did learn what happens when you send too much energy down the channels.  My fingers felt like they were on fire long after I stopped pushing energy into them.   Once I recovered, I moved so that I could start with touching the light stone.  Still, the light dimmed the moment I pulled my finger away.  The V¨ªsir had said my Projection was low.  Did that mean I couldn¡¯t light this?

    I held my fingertip millimeters from the crystalline surface and channeled energy down my arm.  The tingling in my fingers intensified, yet no light came.  I sent more to no avail.  I stopped, shaking my hand to wake my fingers back up.  As the sensation died down, I turned my hand over and examined my fingers. They were fine, but was I damaging my channels?  I didn¡¯t know what I was playing with, and the last time I did that, I ended up in a coma. I should quit.  I had lit every other stone.  Except, I couldn¡¯t give the V¨ªsir that satisfaction.  I would light this damned stone if only to wipe that smug expression off her face.

    I drove as much energy as I could muster down my arm.  My fingers burned.  My hand shook.  The stone didn¡¯t light.  I kept hitting the same limit.  It wasn¡¯t the pain.  I couldn¡¯t figure out how to push more energy into my arm.  I lost my driving force as my arm gained more energy.  It was as if my lungs and arm had reached an equilibrium.  Of course, I could remedy the issue if I introduced a sink by touching the light, but that defeated the point.  Maybe if I hyperventilated¡­.but even if the Aether density was lower here, I couldn¡¯t risk that.  It probably wouldn¡¯t work the way I wanted.  Based on my limited experience, Aether and energy, while related, acted differently, and hyperventilation impacted Aether far more.   I kept trying, using my new familiarity with channels to seal off any other avenue besides my arm for energy to flow down, all to no avail.  Finally, on a whim, I tried to cycle my energy through my entire body in an attempt to somehow generate a stronger driving force.

    An unexpected coolness on my temple almost broke my concentration.  However, with it came the dimmest of light from the stone.   I didn¡¯t dare stop.  I split my attention, trying to understand what was happening in my head.  It was a similar sensation to my lungs but on another order of magnitude.  Instead of passively absorbing energy, it was¡­harvesting it?

    I brought my other hand and covered my temple.  The cool sensation lessened, and light winked out at once.  I took it away, and both returned.  It was collecting something, and my hand blocked it.  But why there on my temple?  Nothing was¡ª

    My Mark.  Were these tattoos actually functional?

    I changed my focus to my forehead and pulled. A bolt of energy roared down my arm, causing it to jerk. I shook out the tingling appendage, though more out of reflex than anything else. The painful tingling had left as quickly as it had come. However, my action still succeeded in bringing the light to half its full illumination. I had figured out how to drive enough energy to jump the gap.

    My next attempt, after taking a small step back, failed.  So, I opted to slowly enlarge the distance between my fingertips and the stone. What seemed easy at first became difficult with each extra millimeter.  As I moved further away, I needed to pump more and more energy into my fingers¡ªexponentially more, or at least it felt.  The coolness in my forehead gave way to cold. The burning in my fingertip, a scalding heat.  The stone should be exploding with light based on how much energy I was trying to force into it, except I was barely charging the light.  Each little bit caused the disparity in the temperature of my hand and forehead to increase.  Fire and ice.  I pushed through it, but I didn¡¯t get more than inches before I couldn¡¯t generate any traces of light.

    I balled my fists. The V¨ªsir had done it from across the room.  I wouldn¡¯t let¡ª

    ¡°Impressive for your level.¡±  I jumped and let out a small scream, only to find Dorian smiling and pointing at a plate of food. ¡°Though I would recommend taking a break.  Your food is getting pretty cold.¡±

 22. The Wager - I

    ¡°Sorry.¡± His smile made a mockery of his apology.

    ¡°Damnit, Dorian, don¡¯t do that again. You are going to give me a heart attack¡±

    I glanced at his half-eaten plate while I drew in a few long breaths. Even if I wasn¡¯t in danger, my heart still hadn¡¯t gotten the memo.

    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± I hadn¡¯t heard a hint of him entering.

    How focused had I been on this light?

    He waved at the plate, walked over, and pulled a chair to sit down. ¡°Long enough to see you finish the last light. Not kidding. It is pretty impressive for you to channel that well at your level. I¡¯d figured you¡¯d maybe get one light at most. Though, you really were struggling with that last one.¡±

    ¡°Really? You were going to leave me in the dark.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would take so long to get food, but I had to convince the [Stewardess] to let me take an extra plate. Then¡ª¡°

    ¡°You had to grab an ale?¡±

    I rolled my eyes at his sheepish expression. Still, he didn¡¯t let that faze him. ¡°While that may have happened, it was for a good reason. What I was going to say was that I needed to talk with a few people from my clan. It took longer than expected.¡± He pointed to the food again. ¡°Sorry that the food isn¡¯t warmer. It will still be good, but don¡¯t use this as your standard.¡±

    Even having cooled off, the smell wafting up from my plate made my mouth water. I glanced at Dorian¡¯s half-eaten plate. I wouldn¡¯t have waited either. I grabbed my fork to dig into the combination of saut¨¦ed vegetables and what looked like a mushroom gravy over a mashed root vegetable mash. My eyes narrowed. I glanced back at Dorian¡¯s plate.

    ¡°Where is mine?¡± I pointed at the bare bone, twice the size of a chicken drumstick¡ªmore on the lines of a ham bone, sitting at the edge of his plate.

    He snorted. ¡°You looking to have a repeat of this afternoon?¡±

    ¡°How is a bit of protein going to cause that?¡±

    ¡°Where do you think this meat came from? It is fresh, Tier III meat, high Tier III at that. You aren¡¯t ready to process it no matter how good you are with channeling at your level.¡±

    So much I didn¡¯t know. Instead of arguing, I filled my mouth with the mash. Complex, rich flavors exploded on my tongue.

    ¡°Good isn¡¯t it.¡± I nodded, though good was an understatement. Heavenly was more appropriate. ¡°Though, you should be warned. It can ruin you. With the levels our [Chef] has, she is better than what you find at most inns. Makes me almost resent returning to safety after an expedition.¡±

    I pointed at a purple vegetable with the shape of a carrot. ¡°What do you call this?¡±

    He chuckled and then gave me a weird look when he realized I was serious. ¡°A carrot?¡±

    Right. I cut a small round with my fork and popped it in my mouth. The bite redefined my expectations for a carrot.

    "Was the meat as good as this?"

    "Do you really want to know?" I contented myself with cutting another round and mixing it with the mash. He laughed. "Don''t worry. You''ll get to try it soon."

    "How long?" I mumbled with a full mouth.

    "Hard to know. Like I said, you picked up Energy circulation way faster than I thought you would''ve."

    ¡°I can¡¯t say that I am happy with my current skill in energy circ¡ª¡±

    ¡°Energy circulation.¡±

    ¡°That is what I said. Energy circulation.¡±

    He furrowed his brow, but then something clicked. "Is Common not your mother tongue?"

    I nodded slowly.

    He snapped his fingers. "Yep. That tracks. Listen carefully and repeat after me: I am working on my Energy circulation."

    I gave him a puzzled look, but he just waved for me to continue. "I am working on my ener¡ª"

    "Energy. Try again."

    "I am working on my Energy... Oh, what the hell!"

    He laughed. "Yep, that''s the internal translation messing with you. Seen it pop up a few times with the ?ttir. You''ll get used to it as you better understand the Common tongue." He studied me with new interest before taking a sip of his ale. "Just when I think I have started to figure you out... But as I was saying, I think my expectations were off. This is stuff kids do, and it usually takes them a lot longer to learn."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "And what do people my age do?"

    "Not this! At least in my clan, almost everyone your age has broken into Tier II. Some are even well on their way to Tier III."

    He leaned forward in expectation, but I ignored his opening. What was I supposed to say? I got warped into a new world via a portal?

    As I took another bite, he continued. ¡°If you keep that up, you will find yourself doing better limiting the toxicity from high-density Aether. ¡± I nodded, trying hard to listen while each chew bombarded my brain with the most savory of flavors. ¡°But seriously, what was the deal with that last light? Did you fatigue yourself? I thought working your channels would be beneficial, but I don¡¯t want you to overdo it. ¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that. I was just trying to light it without touching it.¡±

    He cocked his head. ¡°Really?¡± I nodded. ¡°Wow, how bad¡ª¡°

    He cut off, failing to hide his sheepish expression. ¡°Dorian, what were you going to say?¡±

    He held up his hand in surrender. ¡°I am sorry. I meant nothing by it.¡±

    My eyes narrowed. ¡°By what?¡±

    ¡°Really. I am sorry. It was rude of me to ask.¡±

    Again with the lack of context. ¡°Just say it. You won¡¯t insult or offend me,¡± and then, trying to encourage him, I added, ¡°I¡¯m¡­used to it.¡±

    ¡°I bet.¡± He winced again at the unintended insult. ¡°Sorry! I¡¯ve just never met someone with such a low Projection.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    He grimaced. ¡°Well, it can¡¯t be great. I could light a stone from halfway across the room when I had barely cracked Tier II. Even at your level, you should have more range. But don¡¯t worry. Projection isn¡¯t everything. If your other Potentials are adequate, you will have lots of good options. Not everyone can be [Healer] or [Mage], right?¡± I frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be one of those, right?¡± My frown deepened. ¡°I know you¡¯re a Mind class, but you¡¯re not trying for one of those classes, right?¡±

    ¡°Not exaaactly.¡±

    ¡°What are¡ª¡° He looked away, biting off his question. A mild tinge of red colored his bronze skin.

    How taboo was asking this information?

    ¡°Dorian, just ask me. I really won¡¯t be offended. If we are going to work together, you should know more about me. At my current¡­Tier, I know that I am a liability. ¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±

    I raised my eyebrows. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡± I nodded. ¡°You aren¡¯t just saying that because of the situation? Most people don¡¯t share their classes, their levels, and especially their Potentials except with those they trust.¡±

    Classes and skills and¡­Potentials? This was shaping up to be eerily similar to games I played in high school and college. Too similar. What were the odds? Probably not much different than being magically flung into a new world. It would provide a handy explanation for the superhuman abilities I had seen so far. With that framework in mind, classes and skills would be self-explanatory. Whether skills begot a class or a class begot skills or some mix, I would have to figure out. But Potentials? I had to assume they were some type of attributes or, if I went with the game analogy, stats¡ªmajor ones at that based on what Dorian¡¯s allusions and reticence.

    None of this boded well for me. Levels probably equated to power. I was at Level 1 and likely had at least one terrible Potential. I needed allies. While giving away my capabilities could be dangerous, I had only one skill, and somehow¡ªlikely this tattoo, or rather Mark, on my face¡ªlet everyone know I was a cognitive class. I needed answers, and for that, I needed a friend. I would have to start trusting someone, and Dorian seemed a reasonable person to gamble on.

    ¡°If it wasn¡¯t obvious, I am not from around here.¡± While he didn¡¯t interrupt, he gave me a no-duh look, which I promptly ignored. ¡°Where I am from, we have different¡­customs. Regardless, I would hope to consider you a friend, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, we can talk primarily about my class and levels.¡±

    After my comment, I could actually see the tension melt from him. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s skip Potentials. I am not sure I would be able to reciprocate the gesture, but we can at least share our level and class. Potentials don¡¯t really¡ªwell, typically¡ªmatter at your level.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    He smiled, his natural eagerness returning. ¡°Do you want to make a game of it?¡±

    ¡°A game? You sounded pretty sure that you knew my level.¡±

    ¡°More like a good guess. It would be good to know for sure.¡±

    I leaned in and rested my chin on my hand. ¡°Oh really? Does this game involve a wager?¡±

    Seeing my interest, his eyes gleamed with excitement. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be much of a game without one.¡±

    I laughed. ¡°Okay. I am game, but I don¡¯t have anything to bet.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but you will.¡± He pointed to bone picked clean on his plate. ¡°If I win, I get your first serving of meat when you are ready for it. If you win, you can have mine. Well, as much as you can handle.¡±

    ¡°Well, if I can¡¯t have your whole portion, then I want to be able to pester you with questions without complaints.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°That sounds fine. Then how about this? I win if I can guess the archetype of your class and your level within one.¡±

    ¡°That seems fair.¡±

    When he reached out his hand, I shook it. As we let go, a predatory smile crossed over his face. ¡°I feel like I am about to say goodbye to my first bit of meat.¡± He gave me an innocent yet insincere shrug. I just shook my head. It really didn¡¯t matter to me. As delectable as meat may be, as long as I could get him to explain more about this world, it would be worth it. ¡°I probably should have asked this before shaking, but is this type of game played often?¡±

    ¡°It sure is.¡±

    ¡°But you just said these things are private. How do you know¡ª¡°

    ¡°This info is shared amongst the clan, just not¡ª¡°

    ¡°Humans?¡±

    ¡°Outsiders. Even Oresiani from outside the clan are kept in the dark. As for those in the clan, we don¡¯t talk about skills and Potentials. It is a bit personal, but the game is encouraged. Knowing a person¡¯s class lets you guess their skills, which can be make or break in business deals or battles.¡± He rubbed his hands. ¡°This is exciting. I forgot how much I enjoyed this challenge. It has been too long.¡±

    ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°About a year, but the frequency died down as compared to the first two to three years after my Awakening. Leveling in Tier I is easy, but afterwards, it starts to slow. Still, my friends and I were leveling enough to have significant changes. Those younger than us didn¡¯t want to give us too much information about themselves.

    ¡°How old were you when you Awakened?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see. A little after fourteen.¡± He snorted. ¡°Wow, has it already been four years?¡± He shook away the thought. Clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. ¡°Enough reminiscing, I have a bet to win.¡±

    ***

 23. The Wager - II

    He then went quiet and studied my face, paying extra close attention to my temple. I almost reached up to cover my Mark given the intensity of his gaze, though it helped that he approached with the same clinical detachment I had when looking at a skin lesion. Also, I would play fair even if he didn¡¯t. He leaned back and smiled.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t just going to blurt out a guess, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. Where would the fun be in that? Though I have to admit, I might have bit off more than I could chew. My experience has been with Oresian classes. Your pattern is quite different.¡±

    ¡°Then I am going to literally savor this victory.¡±

    He scoffed. ¡°I am not done yet.¡± He pointed to my face. ¡°It is quite obvious your class favors Mind. While your Mark is basic, you have no hints of any other locations.¡±

    I tried to give him a conniving smile. ¡°So cocky. How exactly do you know that?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Fine. I can¡¯t be sure, but come on. You have a set of hands that look like you have never picked up a pick in your life!¡± He didn¡¯t know just how true that was. ¡°So I doubt you would be a hybrid. I am glad we aren¡¯t doing Potentials because yours would be tricky¡ªthe actual numbers, that is. It would be trivial to guess your strongest Potentials.

    ¡°Really? Why? Oh, because my Projection is that bad?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Yeah, you either excel in Perception or Processing or both.¡±

    Did I? It would be nice not to be dismal at everything in this world. Figuring out how to check my Potentials would need to be high on my list of things to learn. Of course, that didn¡¯t explain why he was dismissing the physical Potentials.

    ¡°Nothing about my other Potentials?¡±

    He waved away my question. ¡°Nah. That is too hard with non-Prime Potentials. If they weren¡¯t significantly lower than your Perception or Processing, then you could be a physical or hybrid class¡ª¡±

    ¡°Which you can tell I am not because¡­of my hands?¡±

    I turned them over, inspecting the raw palms. If I kept this up, I wouldn¡¯t have ¡°soft¡± hands for much longer, but he was right. I could never image myself doing a physical job¡ªor class, as they would likely call it.

    He continued, ¡°So without Projection, that should remove classes such as a [Mage] and a [Healer], but you were a bit cagey about your Projection before. Still, with what I know of your Projection, I doubt they were available to you.¡± He squinted, taking another look. ¡°You really do have quite a unique Mark. It has elements that could suggest a [Scholar] or [Alchemist] or, strangely, a [Healer], though I have seen similar elements in [Caregivers]. So, am I close?¡±

    I managed to hide my surprise. His guess was genuinely impressive. It hit on many of the traits I associated with a physician, but it begged the question. Just how closely were classes and Marks linked? Another thing to figure out, but since this was a game, I continued to play along. ¡°A bit broad there. You fishing for hints?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± he scoffed before continuing. ¡°There could be some [Crafter] classes I would consider. You definitely don¡¯t have the look of a combat class.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡± Even if this was a world with technology no better than the Middle Ages, I had to imagine that some non-physical jobs¡ªclasses¡ªhad to exist.

    ¡°You are not carrying nor have you ever tried to acquire a weapon.¡±

    Oh. Still¡­ ¡°When¡ª¡°

    ¡°You should¡¯ve been given a cheap dagger as part of your initial kit.¡±

    I thought back. The Quartermaster had given me one, though with everything that happened, I had lost track of it.

    ¡°Even if you didn¡¯t, we had plenty of daggers just lying around in the stock room. You just didn¡¯t notice them.¡±

    He was, of course, right. The thought of even looking for one had never crossed my mind. ¡°Fine. Then give me your guess.¡±

    ¡°Not yet, we haven¡¯t done your level.¡±

    Oh, this would be good. ¡°Do you need me to spin around for a better look? Or, you going to stare at my face longer.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what we ask people to do win these wagers, but that is more fun in mixed company. Don¡¯t worry. You aren¡¯t my type.¡± I just shook my head, imagining some mix of spin the bottle and strip poker. Despite saying all that, he still leaned in to take another look. His fingers tapped the table lightly as he squinted. ¡°I take it back. I thought determining your class was hard, but your level is even harder.¡±

    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Your Mark is clearly Tier I, but it is underdeveloped. It is unique enough that I didn¡¯t notice it until I really examined it, but there is no way you are close to the cusp. Plus, your ability to project Energy suggests that you either have a very low Projection or you haven¡¯t progressed enough to manifest much of your Potential. I would guess you are below level 5, but you are here.¡±

    I gave him a mocking smile. ¡°Your observational skills astound me.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    He raised his hands in exasperation. ¡°You just don¡¯t get it. You shouldn¡¯t be here. We are in a Tier IV area. It¡¯s not like it is impossible. Tier I¡¯s do join expeditions, just rarely. They tend to have unique skills, and they are always in a group with higher-tiered people. You have no group. How did you get here?¡±

    Wouldn¡¯t I love to know the answer to that as well.

    Still, he had moved from hinting to direct questions. My time of dodging this topic was coming to an end. I was going to have to trust someone¡­but I could have some fun first.

    I kept my face impassive. ¡°No hints, right?¡±

    He harrumphed. ¡°I should be annoyed, but I appreciate a good challenge. However, don¡¯t think this topic is closed.¡± I nodded in agreement, and he leaned back, arms crossed but still satisfied. ¡°While it could be possible that you have a skill that conceals your actual level, I think that is unlikely. You were just too inep¡ª¡° he cleared his throat¡ª¡°intolerant of the Aether levels here. Frankly, it would be insane for you to be here at anything less than the cusp of Tier II, but I can¡¯t shake the feeling that you are way below Level 9. Way below based on your Mark and what I have seen.¡±

    I smiled. This had worked out better than expected. I had learned that Tier I and II included levels 1-9, this area was Tier IV, and hitting Tier II should let me tolerate the Aether levels in this area better.

    ¡°You ready to guess?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Though I can¡¯t shake the feeling you are some hybrid, I am going with a level 5 [Scholar] derivative, most likely applied in some way.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡±

    ¡°Was I close?¡±

    Where did a doctor fall? I would have said [Healer], but if the V¨ªsir was a prime example, then I was nothing close to that. I could throw him a bone, especially when he missed my level by so much.

    ¡°At home, I would not be considered a [Scholar], but I did study for years. I think I am going to give it to you. You were pretty close with your musing. Technically, I am a [Physician]. Based on that look, you haven¡¯t heard of it either. It is the opposite of a combat class, and I consider it a mix of a [Scholar], pharm...[Apothecary]? Do you have those?¡±

    ¡°Yes. They are a variant of an [Alchemist]. Many would say inferior, but they have their uses especially in low-tier areas or smaller towns without a ready supply of rarer magical compounds.¡±

    ¡°Right. So [Scholar], [Apothecary], and a medic.¡± The word twisted in my mouth. Shoot. ¡°A corpsman.¡± Again. ¡°A nurse?¡± Even that? Were [Healers] the only type of medical professionals? ¡°Oh, a [Barber]!¡±

    ¡°You cut hair?¡±

    ¡°No! Do your [Barbers] not extract teeth because of cavities?¡±

    Had I remembered that correctly? [Eidetic Memory] flashed up a snippet from a medical history book I had read in college.

    He looked at me like I was crazy. ¡°Cavities?¡±

    ¡°When your teeth hurt or get rotten?¡±

    He gave me a confused look. Thinking back, I couldn¡¯t recall a single person with bad teeth. ¡°Where the hell are you from? Why remove teeth when you could just go to a [Healer] to fix them?¡±

    ¡°Maybe not the best example,¡± I mumbled. I sighed. ¡°If I was home¡­¡± I gave it another shot, again trying and failing to keep the regret from my voice. ¡°If I was home, I would be considered a type of [Healer], but not here.¡± I didn¡¯t elaborate further. I was not a [Healer], at least not in this world. Better not to raise expectations.

    He gained a serious look. ¡°So are you [Healer]?¡±

    ¡°Not in the way you are thinking.¡± This world had people who could truly heal¡ªactual miracle healing. It would have been a godsend back at home, but I couldn¡¯t do it. Not yet anyway. I tried not to entertain the other distinct possibility. ¡°It seems like you don¡¯t have medics. What about surgeons?¡± I didn¡¯t need his response; the telltale twist of my tongue told me everything.

    I tried a different tactic. ¡°When there is a war or a battle, who helps take care of the wounded?¡±

    ¡°[Healers].¡±

    ¡°No one else?¡± He shook his head. ¡°What if the [Healers] are overwhelmed? Who gives them med¡ªI mean potions¡ªor bandages them or cuts off a limb if¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cuts off a limb?¡±

    His horror was as amusing as it was infuriating. Did they not need to cut off limbs here because they could just heal them? ¡°Yes, amputate a finger or limb because the part was too damaged to heal.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I guess it isn¡¯t unheard of in war.[Healers] tend to be rare. Ones that can regenerate a limb even rarer. Still, it isn¡¯t something I am familiar with, though my clan hasn¡¯t been to war in a long time. Hmm¡­now that you say it, I do recall my ma talking about [Cutters] for,¡± he failed to suppress a shudder, ¡°amputations. I really can¡¯t imagine. Potions take care of most things.¡±

    ¡°Where I am from, a [Physician] figures out the problem, dispenses potions, bandages wounds, or does surgery¡ªcutting.¡± Cutting. The term was barbaric. It diminished the surgeon¡¯s skill, implying that he was nothing more than a lumberjack chopping at a log of flesh and bone. Yet, in this world, wasn¡¯t I the barbarian? What therapy had I ever employed that did not have a risk that went with the benefit?

    ¡°So you are a type of [Healer].¡±

    I fought against exasperation. Why was he so serious? ¡°No. I can¡¯t do what the V¨ªsir and Esper do. Without a potion, if you cut yourself, all I can do is clean the wound and bandage you up. I don¡¯t have the ability to mend a wound with¡­magic!¡±

    He didn¡¯t seem to even register my response. ¡°But where you¡¯re from, are you considered a [Healer]?¡±

    I sighed. ¡°I would like to think so.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me I was wrong about your level.¡±

    I snorted. ¡°You were, but you weren¡¯t that far off. I am Level 1.¡±

    ¡°Gods!¡± He stood up suddenly, knocking the chair back. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. Does she know?¡±

    ¡°Dorian, what is going on?¡±

    ¡°Does she know your level?¡± He yelled.

    ¡°The V¨ªsir? No.¡±

    ¡°Not her. The Quartermaster. Does she know?¡±

    ¡°No. No one does, but I think they all know I am in the first tier.¡±

    ¡°How much does she know about your class?¡±

    ¡°Less than you. I was not deemed a [Healer] by the V¨ªsir, and that ended the conversation.¡±

    ¡°But you are trained?¡±

    I almost laughed out loud. Was I trained? How did you explain four years of college, seven more years of medical school to get an MD-PhD, and then seven years of bouncing around one too many residencies? And now that was all worth what?

    I just sighed. ¡°You could say that. It has been at least seven, though some would say fourteen years.¡±

    ¡°How¡­? That is so young for formal training¡­. Are you a noble too?¡± He shook away the confusion. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. What is important is that you still have room to grow. I need to talk to her about this.¡±

    He stalked towards the door.

    ¡°Dorian, wait!¡± He did stop and turn around. ¡°What has gotten you all riled up?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything.¡±

    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°No time to explain. I doubt I will be back tonight, but you need to stay here. Bar the door after me. Don¡¯t you dare leave in the middle of the night.¡±

    He left without waiting for my reply.

 24. Home Sweet Home?

    I stared at the door as it slammed shut. While he left me with no explanation, I still walked over and barred the door. I may not understand why Dorian was so upset, but I could understand the value of his simple advice. In my brief experience, this place was far too dangerous not to take precautions. Better safe than sorry.

    I turned back around to survey the room. All mine? It wasn''t really, of course, but it was my likely home for the indefinite time being. Given how this place is segregated, I didn¡¯t expect any company any time soon.

    I walked to the back of the longhouse and examined the door I had ignored earlier. I opened it and found darkness. The room, sectioned off by a thick interior wall, had no windows, but I peered around the corner and found another light stone. The depths of the shadows that covered over half the room piqued my curiosity. They hinted at something more than a walk-in closet. Light clarified the role: a bathroom.

    What it had and lacked both impressed and disappointed. They had mirrors, washbasins, a tub for baths, and even rudimentary internal plumbing, but I found no running water. My morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I walked to the last unopened door, its top and bottom quarter cut away to let light enter from above and below, and opened it.

    What I found wasn''t pretty, but it was functional. A bench with a small round lid. I paused before lifting it up. I wasn¡¯t much of a camper, but some pungent memories gave me second thoughts about breaking the seal. Still, it was doing an amazing job however they had built it. Morbid curiosity drove me. After all, sanitation was one of the pillars of health.

    I lifted it quickly and peered downward. I flinched at the sight, the lid slipping from my fingers and falling with a small bang. Except nothing else came with the sound. Where was the smell? I lifted it again, but only the faintest scent of wood wafted upward. I took another peek.

    Oh yeah, there should be something.

    How? I scanned the room. No toilet paper. Did they even have the ability to process paper? At least here, it was unlikely. In the toilet paper¡¯s typical place sat a bucket with a stick with a spongy-like substance wrapped around it. That definitely wasn¡¯t sanitary, but more importantly, it was definitely a distraction from the real mystery.

    How did they get rid of the smell?

    Putting my face closer to the hole was not an option, but the lack of light did me no favors. Instead, I took a step back, pushing the door open.

    ¡°No way,¡± I whispered as the light revealed subtle patterns etched into the large boards making up the wall. The etchings covered each wall, and they ran down to the boards, making a bench housing the toilet¡¯s hole. I touched one, and my finger tingled. Magic? A way to suppress the smell? No way I could prove it, but on a hunch, I grabbed the bucket with the stick and brought it into the light. Another pattern just as intricate ran its entire length.

    I leaned back against the wall, trying to digest all the implications. This world¡¯s technology was lacking, but did they need it when magic was a birthright? I turned my gaze toward the polished bronze sheets and touched my temple. My denial had gone on long enough. It was time to face the truth.

    <hr>

    I walked over to the mirrors hanging over ledges with small basins likely for washing hands or faces. The mirrors weren¡¯t the same as home, but the metal had been polished enough to provide a more than adequate reflection.

    I took a deep breath and faced¡­myself. Except, it wasn¡¯t me. That surprised look was 100% Daniel, but I was no longer the 30-something-year-old I had been before.

    ¡°I am a fucking baby.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t completely fair. I had fallen into the habit of thinking of third-year and fourth-year medical students on their neurology rotation as young. However, I looked younger than that. College-aged? High school? I struggled to remember photos from that time. My best guess placed me around eighteen to twenty years old. However, when I was that age, I didn¡¯t have a massive tattoo on my face.

    I leaned in. I definitely was ¡°marked,¡± though my Mark was nothing compared to the Quartermaster¡¯s¡ªor anyone else¡¯s, for that matter. It lacked any of the complexity, though it did seem to have the beginnings of a fractal pattern. I ran my fingers along the lines. Smooth to the touch. No strange sensations. Just normal skin. Except¡­I slightly tilted and slowly rotated my head such that the Mark caught the light of the stone. I had to rub the dirt off my face, but with each pass, the Mark, when the light hit it, reflected more and more of a vivid blue and purple before returning to its static dark blue hue. Iridescence.

    I was never one for ink, but it did look good. A consolation prize?

    I pried my eyes away from the tattoo and took a step back to view the disheveled young man in the mirror. That couldn¡¯t be¡­ I squinted, then opened my eyes wide. I turned my head so the light caught my eyes. They¡­weren¡¯t that shade before. A vivid sapphire blue now ringed my pupils.

    Was I even me?

    Memories from past photos surfaced. Yes. My parents would not struggle to recognize me even with the Mark, though they would have had some words about my hygiene. I sure as hell had never been this dirty before. Dirt and grime caked my scrubs and white coat, but my face and hair gave them a run for their money.

    I eyed a large pail of water near the tub. I put a finger in one to confirm what I suspected. The water chilled my finger in seconds.

    This day keeps getting better and better.

    No way was I going to take a cold bath. Except, if they had light stones, maybe they also had heat stones. I peered inside the tub. Markings lined its walls and bottom. I was a mess. I gritted my teeth, becoming more aware of my fatigue as the events of the day finally caught up with me. Just the face then. I had enough energy left in me to wash that much. After all, if I dirtied the bed too much, I had other clean ones to sleep in.

    <hr>

    I had just grabbed my battered white coat to put it on when a loud knock sounded on my door. I put my coat down and walked over to answer it. Light had long slipped into the room through small cracks, indicating night had passed. So, I lifted the bar, pulled open the heavy door, and found Dorian carrying two trays with plates of food and a large grin on his face.

    ¡°Good, you¡¯re up.¡± He walked in without invitation, not that I would think of stopping him when he brought breakfast.

    ¡°How could I not be?¡± I had woken up on my own, but even if I hadn¡¯t, the outrageously loud bell would have guaranteed it.

    He laughed. ¡°You will get used to it. Also, next time, ask who it is before opening it, you fool.¡± He placed the plates on the table and gestured for me to sit. ¡°So you know that¡¯s the bell for the first shift. Technically, it¡¯s for the guards switching from night to day watch, but it also signals the mining companies that they have an hour before they need to enter the mines. Enough time to get ready and get food.¡± I eyed the plate. It looked bland¡ªsome type of porridge¡ªbut my stomach growled regardless. He pushed the tray towards me. ¡°You should eat. You will need the energy.¡±

    I stopped with the wood spoon right before my lips. ¡°This safe for me?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I took a bite, and as before, the flavor far exceeded expectations. He let me take a few bites before speaking. ¡°You figure out your space?¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Yes. I took your advice and took some clothing. What I had was quite¡­soiled.¡± Dorian snorted at my understatement. After getting a good look at the state of my coat and scrubs, I had, despite everything that had happened, managed to find a bit more energy to wash a bit more than just my face.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen nothing yet. The self-cleaning enchantments work wonders, but even then, it is good to have another set or two.¡±

    Of course, self-cleaning enchantments were a thing. I pulled at the woolen sweater. ¡°Do these have them?¡±

    ¡°Hard to know. Most likely, but they weren¡¯t part of the standard allotment. If they were, they would have been returned.¡±

    I hesitated but then pointed to my white coat and scrubs lying on the bed. ¡°Is there any way to patch up my old clothes?¡± I didn¡¯t need them with the new gear, but they were one of the few things that I had left from home. And the scrubs were more comfortable than the itchy wool I was wearing.

    He drummed a quick rhythm with his fingers on the table. ¡°Definitely not the standard gear. Were they part of your allotment when you started?¡±

    ¡°I am not sure. The Quartermaster offered me a coat, but I did not take it because it would be added to my debt.¡±

    ¡°If you skipped the standard gear for them, that should be good enough to qualify for subsidized repairs from a [Tailor]. It won¡¯t hurt to ask. You can also see the cost of adding some [Self-cleaning] or [Self-mending] enchants on your other clothes.¡±

    ¡°That sounds expensive.¡±

    ¡°Might be. Hard to know. Your clothes might not even be able to accept an enchant. You won¡¯t know if you don¡¯t ask. I would recommend it. They might qualify for a discount. You didn¡¯t hear this from me, but I know one [Tailor] that enjoys sticking it to the Alfa¡ªespecially over life debts.¡± I cocked an eyebrow. ¡°You will find that Oresiani can have a very strong view on life debts.¡± Good to know that slavery wasn¡¯t a foregone conclusion. ¡°If you finish up quickly, we might have time to stop by her ¡®shop.¡¯ She opens up earlier than most.¡±

    I took another bite, savoring the taste. I hated to rush. This food was good, and yesterday was long. Dorian just shook his head at my obvious reticence. ¡°I think it is worth it. You can even bring your old clothes to see what they net you.¡±

    I eyed my pile of dirty clothes. Calling it a white coat now was being generous, but it was one of the few things I had left. When I didn¡¯t know if I would return¡ªno, I had to be positive¡ªwhen being a long way from home, nostalgia took on a new meaning.

    ¡°Now, enough about clothes, did you level?¡±

    I stopped mid-spoonful and peeked at his face, which glowed with excitement. ¡°How long have you been waiting to ask that?¡°

    His face reddened for a few seconds. ¡°I was trying to be polite,¡± he mumbled. I just finished my spoonful and took another long and exaggerated bite. ¡°I see how it is. Maybe I will forget about stopping to pick up breakfast tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Fiiiine. I did level.¡±

    This time, I didn¡¯t need to ask how to find out. The words were echoing in my head when I woke up:

    [New Level Obtained: Physician, Level 2]

    I would never forget them. I don¡¯t think I could. They felt carved into my very being.

    ¡°How many?¡±

    I furrowed my brow. ¡°Just one.¡± He frowned, and I pointed my spoon at him. ¡°Hey now, where did that excitement go? You had better not be disappointed.¡°

    ¡°Sorry, I just wanted to make sure.¡±

    ¡°Should there have been more?¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily. It¡¯s hard to tell. You killed a decent chunk of monsters. You also pushed yourself to the brink physically and possibly mentally. I think this more or less confirms that your class is in the noncombatant and Mind categories. While it is possible that your Aether toxicity stunted your class growth, I think that it¡¯s less likely given how well you¡¯re doing now. Though, did you get a skill?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Well, then maybe the Aether toxicity was more severe than I thought. Hopefully, you will recover it. These early skills tend to be foundational in your class.¡±

    ¡°Damn. I should have received a skill?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Typically, skills are front-loaded. Not every class gets a new skill with every level in the first tier, but most do. They are often weak but flexible, but they act as a foundation for the class.¡±

    Could this place be any more unfair? ¡°Can I get it later?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t guaranteed, but you are acting as if you didn¡¯t almost die yesterday. As important as a skill is, you are lucky to be alive. Though, given how well you have rebounded, I bet you pick it up before or at your next level. It is also quite possible that you didn¡¯t one because your Mark isn¡¯t mature enough to support a stronger skill.¡±

    A slight tension in my shoulders that had crept in without my notice had released at his last point. And I did feel good, much better than I would have expected after having another near-death experience. But more importantly, his words eased an internal tension I didn¡¯t know I was carrying. Something had felt off¡ªmissing¡ªsince I woke up this morning. Now I knew what it was: a skill.

    ¡°Regardless, I can guarantee that you have a Mind-based class. That should have made it difficult to level in the mine. However, you did, which says something.¡±

    ¡°If it was so hard, why did you look so excited when you asked if I leveled?¡±

    ¡°Intuition?¡±

    ¡°Bull.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°[Scholars] gain levels through researching an area. However, they have to know an area well. My friends in those classes gained their first levels extremely easily. It would be unfair if they didn¡¯t hit a pretty hard soft-cap at their first-tier transition. You had exposure to lots of new things yesterday. After watching you with those light stones last night, I would swear you are teaching yourself to channel for the first time.¡±

    Dorian, you don¡¯t know how right you are. However, I kept that thought to myself. ¡°I clearly need practice, but if I am hearing you right, you are saying that I should have gained more levels if my class was primarily a [Scholar]¡­category?¡±

    ¡°Archetype,¡± he corrected.

    ¡°Right, archetype. So, since I didn¡¯t, does that mean it falls under another archetype?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Now, did you do anything else besides learning about mining, killing terrorvoles, and being a fool by almost dying from Aether toxicity?¡±

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t be from processing that much Aether?¡±

    ¡°No. The toxicity would have overwhelmed any gains.¡±

    I gave it some thought. ¡°Honestly, the day is a blur. The only other thing that stands out is using a potion and bandaging you.¡±

    ¡°By the Depths, I can¡¯t believe I forgot that. Though,¡± he rolled his shoulder, ¡°didn¡¯t help that I don¡¯t have much of a reminder. Potions normally don¡¯t heal so well¡­ Are you sure that you are not a [Healer]?¡°

    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t actually heal your wounds. The potion did it, but I might have helped it along. When I was applying it, my fingers tingled like they did when I lit the light stones.¡°

    ¡°That is a pretty typical sensation for Energy transference.¡± He tapped the table. ¡°That doesn¡¯t exclude a [Healer], but it means an [Alchemist] archetype is possible. You did say potions are part of your class. Unfortunately, that would complicate things. Healing potions aren¡¯t cheap. Healing balms and ointments aren¡¯t much better.

    ¡°Could I prep them?¡±

    ¡°You are eight levels away from doing that easily. You need the right class to get an apprenticeship. No one here will waste time on you. Too much to do.¡±

    ¡°So what do I do?

    ¡°We could try other types of consumables that might fall under an [Alchemist]¡¯s purview. Otherwise, you will need to think about whatever [Phy¡ª]¡± He stumbled for the word.

    ¡°[Physicians], but you can call them doctors, short for medical doctors. That was what most people do from where I am.¡±

    ¡°Still a mouthful, but better. I hope you don¡¯t mind, but I talked to the Quartermaster.¡±

    ¡°Oh, is that where you went after you left last night in a hurry?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ªfine. I did, but you shouldn¡¯t be denied the right to level, especially if you are someone who can heal.¡±

    ¡°Right to level? How does that work with life-debts?¡±

    He grumbled, ¡°It doesn¡¯t, which is why she told me to keep my mouth shut. She did pass on some useful info. New classes aren¡¯t unique. People do get rare variants of classes. It is rare, clearly, but it happens. Their paths are often harder but more rewarding. The common thread is that they inevitably need to walk the ideal of the class to progress.¡±

    A bit more succinct and his advice could fit in a damn fortune cookie. I sighed. ¡°I should be able to do that.¡±

    In theory, it should be simple. I already had a guide¡ªI had sworn an oath when I finished medical school. However, that didn¡¯t mean it would be easy. I had tried to live up to the tenets of my oath the best I could¡ªcorrection, the best the system allowed, and my best was far from the ideal. Hard to be a compassionate champion for your patient on the twentieth admit of a call night.

    Could I do better here?

    A tough call night might be a walk in the park compared to ethical quandaries that could arise in a world that allowed slavery in all but name. And, I couldn¡¯t forget that people here could heal wounds, but I couldn¡¯t. Should I even be offering my services? Taking a step back, were parts of my oath even appropriate here? The V¨ªsir had cut herself so that I could prove my skill. Sure, she wasn¡¯t a patient, but that made me question this world¡¯s opinion on the tenet of ¡°do no harm.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything else I can do?¡±

    Dorian registered none of my concerns. ¡°Keep practicing channeling the energy. I would have sworn you had no training after yesterday, but you clearly do. I just forget your situation. While many would kill to be in high-density Aether, that would be after earning quite a few levels, especially for a Human. However, you are doing well out here. So, whatever training you¡¯ve done seems to be paying off. So keep at it. It is clearly working because,¡± he pointed a thumb at a lit light, ¡°I have never seen a level 1 do that without weeks of practice.¡±

    He nodded at my near-empty bowl. ¡°Now hurry that up, or we won¡¯t have time to drop off your clothes.¡±

 25. Visiting the [Tailor]

    We headed towards the crafting section of the camp, which lay in the shadow of the mountain. What remained of my hospital attire fit under my arm in a depressingly small bundle. As we headed to a set of small buildings the size of cottages, ?ttir, Oresiani, and Volki flowed towards the mine¡¯s opening in discrete clumps.

    ¡°Are we going to be late?¡± I didn¡¯t need another excuse for the Verndari to use against me.

    ¡°No. It isn¡¯t either of our turns to come in early or to set up.¡±

    ¡°Would someone have informed me?¡±

    He paused, thinking about it. ¡°Maybe? I can ask one of the H?rliear,¡± not adding, ¡°for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. Not sure what I would do without you.¡±

    ¡°Be dead?¡±

    ¡°I was that bad?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    On that cheery note, we arrived at the [Tailor]. Dorian stopped, hand on the door, whose quality rivaled that of the General Supply. ¡°Let me try to negotiate here. She comes off like a caring grandmother, but she has heartwood for a spine. The goal here is to get her to agree to consider working on your stuff.¡±

    ¡°Wait a second, Dorian. You made this sound¡ª¡°

    He pushed open the door and walked into a room awash with colors. Bolts of bright fabric were stacked in piles in all corners of the room. Half-finished outfits¡ªdresses, tunics, pants¡ªhung from dress forms and hangers. Not a one was appropriate for mining.

    In the corner sat a petite, Oresian woman with auburn hair marked by hints of grey and held back by a vibrant cloth headband. She wore a simple but intricate indigo, long-sleeved blouse that covered all but the tips of her fingers. At first glance, she showed none of her age. But when she crinkled her aquiline nose in concentration, crow¡¯s feet around her eyes belied her otherwise timelessness.

    She hadn¡¯t bothered to look up from the project when we entered nor as we approached. She, however, did pause for just a second before she returned to work on a garment fit for a socialite or, perhaps here, a king. When she did, the cuff of her blouse slipped enough to betray much more of her age. Her knuckles had more than the first hints of arthritis, though they had no impact on her profession that I could see. She deftly wielded a needle and thread as she made a series of minuscule stitches. It impressed me in its own right, but then her hands became a blur, moving faster than the machine my mother had used to make my Halloween costumes.

    I stopped in surprise, but Dorian registered neither the impossibility of her hands¡¯ movements nor the more mundane lack of her response to our entrance. He casually walked over to a particularly vibrant bolt of crimson cloth.

    ¡°Nice stuff.¡± He raised a hand to touch it.

    Though her eyes never left the cloth on the table, she snapped a warning as his finger approached the fabric. ¡°You touch it, and you lose those fingers.¡± A slight increase in air pressure accompanied her words.

    I swallowed, my throat going dry. Her hands had not slowed. Her head had not risen. Yet, she had noticed Dorian¡¯s movements. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she knew everything that was happening in this room.

    ¡°Harsh,¡± was Dorian¡¯s only response.

    ¡°That bolt is worth more than one of your fingers.¡±

    ¡°Would you at least sew it back on for me before I saw the [Healers]?¡±

    She put down her work, spun in her chair to face him, and sighed. ¡°Boy, what do you want with me? Can¡¯t you see that I am busy?¡± She tossed me a quick glance, those vivid green eyes, not too dissimilar from Dorian¡¯s, taking my stock. Then, she paid me no further heed.

    ¡°You are always busy, and none of this will be needed for months.¡±

    ¡°I am busy for good reason. I am behind schedule. Work like mine takes time. Now, you didn¡¯t answer my other question.¡±

    ¡°Expertise. We are here because my friend here needs yours. He needs some enchantment and repairs.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t insult me. He can¡¯t handle what I do. There are others who are more appropriate for this task. In fact, why doesn¡¯t he bother his own [Weavers] or [Tailors]?¡°

    ¡°He came alone.¡±

    That got a slight eyebrow raise. ¡°You know that I¡¯m quite expensive.¡±

    ¡°I know. That is exactly what made me think of you.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed, and she folded her hands atop each other. Her sleeves inched up, revealing intricate Marks that ran down her arm to the back of her hands and fingers. They were so dense they could be mistaken for a tight glove.

    ¡°I don¡¯t give discounts no matter how much youngins try to butter me up.¡±

    ¡°Now gran¡ªAvinja, I wouldn¡¯t dare ask. As I said, he¡¯s alone, but not by choice. He was rescued, and as is typical of the Alfa, he now owes a life debt.¡±

    She slammed a hand on the table. ¡°Boy, why didn¡¯t you just lead with that?¡° He shrugged, but he couldn¡¯t hide the twinkle in his eye. I had to give it to Dorian. He played her like a fiddle. ¡°Though, you are courting trouble with this one. It will catch up to you one of these days. ¡°

    ¡°Already has,¡± he muttered before continuing. ¡°His starting gear is non-standard, but he had it in lieu of his allotment.¡± He quickly added, ¡°what he is wearing now is what¡¯s left over from the previous occupants.¡°

    ¡°Hmm, I might be able to make that work for some of the items. She will throw a fit when she sees the bill, but there won¡¯t be much she or the Alfa can do.¡±

    Dorian just shrugged his shoulders, apparently knowing the ¡°she¡± that the seamstress was referring to. ¡°You tend to have more leeway than most.¡±

    ¡°I earned that.¡± She got up from a chair and walked to a small counter. Joints popped with each distinct movement, but she showed no signs of discomfort ¡°What¡¯s your name, young man,¡± she asked, finally giving me more than a cursory glance.

    ¡°Daniel¡±

    ¡°Well Daniel, make yourself useful and put all your clothes in this bag.¡± She tossed me a coarse brown sack from underneath the counter. ¡°I can¡¯t promise you anything, but I will at least take a look. I won¡¯t do anything that costs you. There should be an outfit for you back there. Bring it back after you change into a spare outfit.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡± She didn¡¯t ask for it, but her presence somehow demanded respect¡­and every fiber of my being told me that not giving it to her would be a very bad idea.

    ¡°Bah! I am not that old. You can call me Kyria Rhaptis.¡±

    Dorian snorted. ¡°Lady¡ª¡±

    The pressure and gravity in the room multiplied. My knees wobbled, but before they collapsed, the pressure eased. Whatever comment Dorian planned on making remained unsaid. I swallowed at the casual display of power before putting my clothes into the bag. I handed it to her. ¡°Thank you, Kyria Rhaptis. I appreciate you taking a look.¡±

    She smiled at me. ¡°Such a respectful young boy. I will try to take a look at this in the next few days. Check back after your shift around then.¡±

    ¡°Any time too late?¡±

    ¡°Do I have anything else to do?¡± Before I could answer, she shooed Dorian out with a hand. ¡°Now take that sassy mouth elsewhere. I have work to do.¡±

    As I moved toward the exit, I swore I could make out a pressure pushing us toward the door.

    <hr>

    I followed Dorian as he left the building. He remained uncharacteristically quiet until we had put some distance from the shop. ¡°I would call that a success.¡±

    Sure, but that glossed over so much more. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°A cranky old woman.¡± For all his confidence, he still shot a quick glance backward and whispered as he said it. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that, while not quite fleeing, our pace was definitely not a casual walk.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°No, that pressure.¡±

    ¡°Oh, an aura and a damned powerful one.¡±

    ¡±Uh, I¡¯m not sure I am familiar with that type of aura.¡± Visual changes before migraine or premonitory sensation before a seizure that definitely was not.

    ¡°Be glad. It was a fraction of what she could exert.¡±

    ¡°So, just to be clear, I wasn¡¯t making up that subtle increase in air pressure.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    I hesitated because it seemed ridiculous, but if I didn¡¯t ask¡­ ¡°And that force pushing us out the door.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Yep. Also her.¡±

    I swallowed. Telekinesis?!? Magical healing and now telekinesis? ¡°Do most classes have auras?¡±

    ¡°Sort of. They tend to be rare, but mostly because they don¡¯t manifest until higher tiers. They tend to develop earliest in classes that require a combination of high Mind Potentials, specifically Projection.¡±

    Of course. I let out a resigned sigh. ¡°I am starting to see a pattern here.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, there is a reason Projection is considered the most powerful Potential by most. It is also one of the rarest.¡± He gave an encouraging smile. ¡°So don¡¯t feel bad. You aren¡¯t alone. Also, for what it is worth, cognitive classes are rarer in general, at least for Oresiani. Still, you may get an aura if you level. Even physical classes can get them when they hit higher tiers.¡±

    ¡°And a [Tailor] is a cognitive class?¡± He looked at me like I was dumb. ¡°Right, she is more than a [Tailor].¡°

    ¡°Oh, yeah. That would be her hobby or, more appropriately, her passion. It is the only reason she is here; the only reason she tolerated an expedition with life debts. She needs the supplies only found in a location of this high a tier.¡±

    ¡°How is she making use of stuff from a mine?¡±

    ¡°She isn¡¯t, or not to a significant degree.¡± He pointed to the walls. ¡°Beyond those exist just as much treasure as in there.¡±

    I followed his gaze as it moved from the imposing timber walls to the mountain¡¯s entrance. The number of people entering had picked up from earlier in the morning. Knowing what I did now, I had greater admiration for this expedition. Supporting this number of people in hostile territory required significant logistical know-how and¡­diplomacy.

    Our pace, like those around us, slowed as we neared the entrance, its narrowness limiting flow. However, even cramped together, the groups remained segregated. Suspicious and, at times, downright hostile looks emanated from all parties. The ?ttir outnumbered the rest by at least a factor of two. However, to my surprise, the miners did not consist of only ?ttar or Oresiani. Volki had a showing. With pickaxes and shovels in hand, they were clearly not there for guard duty. Interestingly, they had a smaller stature than the majority of Volki working as guards. Something else to ask Dorian about when we were out of earshot.

    ¡°Wait. Does she get a cut of what is mined?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°She would¡ªand a significant one at that¡ªif she wanted it. As with all expeditions, each of the sponsors takes a share¡ªa fee of sorts¡ªfor organizing their group. Some people can demand part of that fee for bringing a specific skill set.¡±

    ¡°Kyria Rhaptis being one of those people.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. So she could demand a decent cut, but her hobby typically makes little use of the crystals mined.¡±

    ¡°So what is her¡ª¡° A hacking cough echoed down the entrance. It went on for seconds. I stood on my tiptoes, but I couldn¡¯t see past the wall of ?ttir. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound good.¡±

    ¡°Heard worse.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s common?¡± No one here wore any masks or filters.

    ¡°Can be, though typically not at this level. However, he probably isn¡¯t a [Miner]. We get a few skills to help with dust, but that is what they have [Healers] for.¡±

    I guess Black Lung and Silicosis isn¡¯t a thing with magical healing. Lucky them. How many people back at home would have killed to be cured of chronic coughing and shortness of breath? The best ¡±cure¡± we had was a lung transplant, and that came with its own host of complications.

    We walked down through the main cavern, our steps joining the echoing drumbeat of boots slapping stone. The column of workers unwound into distinct sets, each funneling toward the various exits of the main caverns. This was not a small operation.

    ¡°Dorian, you sort of alluded to this already, but who actually organizes all this?¡±

    ¡°My clan¡ªwell, technically, one of our companies. The Alfa fronted much of the cost and,¡± spitting out the words, ¡±the labor. This is a small operation really, but the distances traveled and area¡¯s tier make it within our expertise. Few clans have a company of our caliber to mount an expedition at this level. The Alfa is paying good coin for this,¡± and adding in a mutter, ¡°probably reaping a large profit.¡±

    ¡°Why¡ªoh, life debts.¡± Not hard to profit with minimal labor costs. Dorian grunted in assent. ¡°Is it typical to use indentured labor?¡±

    ¡°In some less reputable parts.¡±

    And yet, his clan, or at least a representative of it, did. What did that say exactly?

    He didn¡¯t explain further, and I didn¡¯t push. Our conversation died down as much from the topic as the increase in other, possibly less-than-friendly ears. We wound through the passageway to the next cavern. Watching the entrance, the Verndari stood in the center of the cavern. He didn¡¯t bother to hide his sneer as we came into view. ¡°Oresian, I¡¯m impressed. You finally found a way to make sure you aren¡¯t always the last one to arrive.¡±

    ¡°I hit my quotas and then some. Let me know when you are ready to take my advice.¡± The Verndari¡¯s face darkened, but Dorian continued undaunted. ¡°Now, do you want us working the new vein or opening up a tunnel towards that other vein I sensed?¡±

    ¡°The tunnel.¡±

    ¡°I expected nothing less,¡± and then, in a grumble, ¡°got to keep trying to keep the Oresian from earning anything.¡±

    The Verndari¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I said that I will be taking Daniel to show him the ropes. I could use another pick to speed up creating the new tunnel.¡± Dorian didn¡¯t give the ?ttar a chance to answer. ¡°This way.¡±

    I followed him to the supply room. As with before, most of the tool racks were bare. I picked up my pickaxe from yesterday and hefted it. It felt¡­lighter. I flipped the head upward and brought it before my eyes. Definitely the same one. Those brown flecks weren¡¯t dirt. I had seen their like plenty of times when dressing changes came a few days late to know it on sight. Dried blood.

    ¡°Put that down.¡±

    I turned and found Dorian holding the damaged wooden pick. ¡°I thought you said it was wasted on me.¡±

    ¡°That was yesterday. Today, it has become quite apparent that you can channel.¡±

    ¡°It was a light stone.¡±

    ¡°If you can do that, you are ready for this. So put that thing back. I know it¡¯s blooded and that it served you well, but this will serve you even better.¡±

    ¡°But my Projection¡ª¡°

    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft. You will be touching. Look, it will serve you well. While this pick is damaged, it is not that damaged. It will channel your Energy to the point of the pick. In fact, the connection is so loose it will be good practice. If you thought lighting stones was tough, try a pickaxe with an unstable connection.¡±

    I glowered at him. ¡°You and practice.¡±

    ¡°You will thank me later.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    I grabbed the pick, and he nodded. ¡°Skip the gloves; you don¡¯t need that challenge. Also, your hands need toughening up.¡±

    I rolled my eyes at his smirk. The Oresian couldn¡¯t miss a dig, but I still left the gloves on the shelf. He hadn¡¯t steered me wrong so far. I grabbed a few other tools and sundries that he pointed to as we made our way back out of the supply.

    We skirted the edge of the cavern on the side without a single ?ttar. The lode we were aiming for was in the opposite direction from the latest cavern opened. He stood in front of the wall, hand resting on the smooth rock.

    ¡°It is in this direction.¡±

    ¡°The vein?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Is it far?¡±

    ¡°Hard to say. My skill doesn¡¯t give a precise location. It senses the strength of the Aether. If it is a large lode, it could be much farther way.¡±

    ¡°Either way, it shouldn¡¯t take that long, not with the way you can blast through a wall.¡±

    ¡°That works only if I want to risk blowing us all up.¡±

    ¡°You are joking, right?¡±

    Without a trace of humor, he responded, ¡°I don¡¯t joke about mining. When you are digging towards a node, you have to be careful with Energy projection. Crystals can absorb stray Energy. However, absorb too much and,¡± emphasizing with his hands, ¡°boom. If you are lucky, it¡¯s just a small clump. Larger ones¡­they can set off a chain reaction. Second most frequent way a [Miner] dies right behind monster attacks.¡±

    ¡°Should I be¡­¡±

    ¡°You can barely light a stone. Also, my [Sense Deposit] may not be precise, but it isn¡¯t weak. We aren¡¯t close. You will be fine.¡± He pointed to my pick. ¡°You should start by practicing infusing the pick and taking some practice swings. Without any skills, it will be the strength of the strike that breaks the stone, but if you don¡¯t infuse the pick, it can crack with a hard enough hit.¡±

    ¡°Should I always keep it infused while I am swinging?¡±

    ¡°Only if you want to run out of Energy before an hour is over.¡± He smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It is easier than you think, and I don¡¯t think you have the strength to crack that pick.¡± He waved me back. ¡°You can still watch me a bit. After that, try some practice swings, and then break down some of the large boulders my strikes make.¡±

    I gave him his space. Dorian didn¡¯t look back and instead stood with a slight squat with the pick raised behind his head. Breath held, I waited.

    It was different from the battle. The pick still was a blur, but it was slower. The tip glowed red at the last possible second. Still, the ground trembled at the blow. The pick recoiled backwards in a smooth movement only to quickly fly back forward in another blur to hit the exact same spot. Each blow enlarged the spiderweb of cracks radiating from the impact point.

    He never slowed. His rhythm never broke. Dull thud after dull thud. Chip after chip. Blow after blow. Even. Endless. Inhuman. He was a damn machine. He didn¡¯t need my help. For efficiency¡¯s sake, I should just be ferrying away the rocks he created. It was what the Verndari would have demanded. If I couldn¡¯t swing a pick, I would always be relegated to an accessory job without any chance of a payoff. What better way to screw the Human than prolonging his indentured servitude. However, Dorian was giving me an out. He went further in helping me than I bet the Quartermaster would have. That letter to Dorian be damned. If she headed this expedition, she agreed to a deal with the Alfa and life debts. She did not have my best interest at heart.

    So, I watched the young Oresian who cared enough to help. This was not an unusual style of learning for me. We doctors may be bookworms, but we had to apply our knowledge. After all, the phrase ¡°see one, do one, teach one¡± existed in residency for a reason. I didn¡¯t bother trying to understand why he shifted his strikes or increased the power of his blow. I just focused on what he recommended: his Energy.

    He didn¡¯t glow, not like other ?ttir did when they fought the terrorvoles, but something was happening. With each swing, I could almost feel him exude something. It was more than the air current generated in a swing¡¯s wake. It was intangible, yet it flowed around him.

    Energy? Only one way to find out.

    I picked up my axe with two hands. The finely sanded handle was warm to my touch. Dorian had already carved a hole deep enough for a person to stand in, yet no boulders to practice on hand¡ª

    His swing went wide, and with a crack, the wall split. A rock, the perfect size to practice on, fell to the ground. He never slowed his pace, but that didn¡¯t stop him from cracking a smile.

    ¡°Show off,¡± I muttered before getting to work.

 26. Mining & Surviving - I

    Staring at the rock so helpfully provided, I gripped the handle with both hands. Dorian said the Energy should just flow from me to it. If that¡¯s the case, I should just be able to swing it, but just how solid were these picks? Better question: how expensive?

    I took a deep breath and pulled the Aether in through my lungs, not my Mark. Of course, it was bad practice risking toxicity, but only this once I would start with some baseline Energy. I pushed the energy, and unlike when I held my finger from the stone, it poured down the shaft without a hint of resistance¡­until it hit the eye of the pickaxe¡¯s blade. At the eye, I met a wall, but it was nothing compared to trying to jump a gap when projecting.

    With a nudge, it surged past. I let out a breath of surprise as the pickaxe glowed a crimson red. It wasn¡¯t the vivid hue of Dorian¡¯s or, for that matter, any of the ?ttir, but it still glowed. I had done it. I infused it with my Energy.

    Now brighter?

    I pushed more Energy into it. The red deepened in color to match the vividness I had come to associate with a tool infused with Energy. Then the pick dropped, its crimson point heading for my boot. I stumbled backward in as much shock as fear. My hands lost their grip on the pickaxe¡¯s handle, but the pickaxe still had enough momentum to dig into the hard earth.

    Not the best first attempt. However, the fault didn¡¯t lie with the pickaxe. My arms had just given out. I just turned my palms upward, moving my fingers to make sure they still worked. That transient weakness had disappeared without a trace.

    Myoclonus ¡ª a brief and sudden, involuntary jerk of a muscle or group of muscles.

    Negative myoclonus ¡ª a brief and sudden, involuntary interruption of a muscle¡¯s or group of muscles¡¯ activity.

    In a flash of insight, the definitions came to me from one of the many textbooks I had read. Negative myoclonus certainly fitted the bill. I had seen it many times. Just take a person in liver failure and a tinge of hepatic encephalopathy and have him hold up their hands like he is stopping traffic. Then, have him close his eyes. If the liver failure is bad enough, the hands will flap down before popping back up. As one of my crasser colleagues joked, ¡°he is waving bye-bye to his liver.¡±

    I had never experienced myoclonus, but that had to be it. Complete loss of tone. No pain. No burning. My arms just stopped resisting gravity as if they had been drained of all their energy¡­or Energy?

    ¡°Had been¡± was the key phrase there. I flexed my right arm, and it responded without a problem. I leaned over to grab the handle¡ªthe handle that was sticking up in the air and not lying on the ground. I squatted in front of the pick and gave it a slight push. The pickaxe didn¡¯t fall over. The tip had cut deep enough into the stone to hold the pick in place. What were the odds that it fell into a hole?

    Too low. Way too low.

    I had punched a hole into solid stone. I swallowed. What happened to the force of my swing doing most of the work? Also, what if that had been my foot?

    I scowled. Dorian didn¡¯t have to say it. Go to a [Healer]. If not that, just use a potion.

    I needed to get one. Job safety was not a priority, and why would it? Everyone could be much more cavalier when punching a hole through a limb wasn''t a life-threatening event.

    I pulled out the pickaxe. It slipped out with little extra force. I hefted it with both hands. Less Energy this time, but how much? I needed to figure this out, if only to have some other career options. I pulsed enough Energy to leave only the faintest of pale red glows.

    After a few tries, it became clear that I could vary the Energy flows by their velocity and volume. The faster or the more that coursed down the pick, the more resistance and greater the drain. Give this to an engineer or a scientist, and they could probably derive a formula to explain it. I would be fine with a rule of thumb.

    After a few more pulses, I became comfortable enough to line up in front of the rock. Dorian had already disappeared into the hole that he had created. The man¡ªOresian¡ªwas a machine.

    I hefted the pickaxe and swung. Energy flowed down the shaft into the tip. With a satisfying thunk, the red tip sunk into the stone. I swung again, almost striking the stone without the tip coated with Energy.

    I frowned, holding the pickaxe in front of me. I pushed another pulse. It flowed, but it slowed down at the eye. Damn, broken junction.

    I took another swing, compensating before rechecking the Energy. I shook my head. Off again. Each blow disrupted the connection.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I swung again and again and again and again. The rock cracked and then crumbled. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but it worked. Dorian took breaks shoveling the rock out of the tunnel, but he never asked for help. By the time I was done with one rock, he had another ready to be broken down.

    It became a game of trying to get the perfect swing. The blows jarring the connection at the eye just added to the challenge. As time wore on, my muscles tired, but it was nothing a bit of Energy couldn¡¯t fix.

    ¡°Daniel!¡±

    I left the pickaxe buried in the boulder and turned to find Dorian with an exasperated look. ¡°Dorian, were you trying to get my attention?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Any longer, and I would be checking you for Aether toxicity.¡±

    I rubbed the back of my head. ¡°Sorry, I was in the zone.¡±

    He cocked his head. ¡°Zone?¡± He waved it off. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. You have been at it long enough. Time for some lunch.¡±

    He knelt in front of a sack and pulled out a dark, rectangular hunk.

    ¡°Jerky?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Did I graduate into meat?¡± My mouth salivated. The strip looked tough and stringy, but the aroma¡­

    ¡°You almost didn¡¯t when you didn¡¯t respond¡ª¡±

    I took a bite, and my world collapsed into the singular explosion of flavor in my mouth. It was so good and yet so frustrating. My teeth barely seemed to dent the dried meat.

    ¡°¡ªThis is a good intro for you. The toughness makes it hard to absorb too much Aether too quickly.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I noticed.¡± I forced myself to slow down and chew, a maddening endeavor. It was like chewing on leather¡ªI had to expend Energy just to ease my aching jaw¡ªthat tasted like chocolate spiked with cayenne. Bittersweet richness with a bite.

    ¡°By the way, I am impressed by how well you were using that pickaxe.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That connection is shoddy, but looking at you, no one would ever know.¡±

    ¡°It took a bit, but I finally realized I could retract some of the Energy not expended in the strike. When I cycled it, I could follow how the connection between the handle and head shifted with blow.¡±

    ¡°Wait. You weren¡¯t just plowing extra energy through there?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± He stared at me like I was crazy. ¡°When I tried to do that, I almost put a hole in my foot.¡± I had a very low upper limit before the negative myoclonus occurred.

    ¡°By the Gods, how much training did you have as a child¡­. Or are your Perception and Processing just that good?¡¯ I didn¡¯t reply, and he muttered a curse. ¡°At least your physical Potentials are more normal.¡±

    I kept chewing the jerky, savoring every bite. ¡°Is it the Aether concentrations that make this so good?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It is especially good when the food¡¯s Tier is higher than your own, or you have depleted your reserves. It will actually provide you with a bit more reserves as you digest it. So enjoy while it lasts.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I am going to level.¡±

    ¡°Not surprised, but what you are learning will help with everything. You had to be infusing your muscles to keep up that pace.¡±

    ¡°I was. I was more cautious this time.¡± At some point in my practice, I had moved to infuse both my body and pickaxe. The pickaxe alone didn¡¯t provide enough power. Of course, I had to avoid drawing any Aether through my lungs. Everything came from my Mark, though it barely was enough to keep up with my pace by the end. As with pushing energy into the handle, after a certain point, my muscles started to resist.

    ¡°How do they do it?¡± I nodded towards the ?ttir sitting on the other side of the cavern. ¡°They aren¡¯t [Miners].¡±

    ¡°No. They aren¡¯t, but they are some derivatives of a [Warrior], most likely a low-mid Tier III one. They might not have the skills, but they have the raw strength and endurance. It isn¡¯t a total waste of their time, either. While mining does nothing for their levels, the monsters they unearth and slaughter do¡ªif they aren¡¯t capped.¡±

    Capped? One more thing I needed to understand but couldn¡¯t readily ask.

    ¡°You think many are?¡¯

    ¡°Hard to tell. If it was another group, I would definitely say yes. With ?ttir, Tier III warriors are their grunts, though recently they haven¡¯t lived up to their reputation noted in our histories.¡±

    ¡°Epic warriors?¡±

    ¡°Yes, or they were. Don¡¯t get me wrong. They have powerful warriors. The Verndari has clearly broken into Tier IV, but their numbers at those levels dwindle. They are being pushed back by the Volki and, of all things, Humans. No offense.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t be that weak?¡± It was a sobering thought that my ¡°own¡± kind was the punching bag of this world.

    ¡°Not in your,¡± he paused as if unsure that was the correct noun, ¡°homeland, but outside? Typically, their opponent¡¯s raw power overwhelms whatever weaponry a group brings to bear. At least, it did. Can¡¯t complain too much. Humans are better for trade. It has been good for my clan. If they could do something about the Volki¡­¡±

    We lapsed into silence, chewing the jerky. One of the ?ttir had a wrap around his arm. A bandage? It was white, but that could mean anything here. I had not seen a single bandage. I could look, except they probably didn¡¯t want my help. And did I want to provide it?

    I nudged Dorian with my elbow. ¡°If I went over there to chat with them?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Not your funeral, but you may find it hard to walk for a day or two without a trip to the [Healer].¡±

    ¡°Is it all ?ttir?¡±

    ¡°This lot is far worse than most. They had to flee a battle with Humans, and they were absorbed into this warband. The leader of this warband is actually quite cordial with Humans, but he can¡¯t negate all the animosity over the land being ceded to Human settlements.¡±

    ¡°Just my luck. I can¡¯t tell if the Quartermaster is trying to help or kill me.¡±

    ¡°I ask myself that too.¡±

    ¡°Not funny, Dorian.¡±

    ¡°You think I was joking?¡±

    He stood up and grabbed his pickaxe, leaving me chewing on my jerky. I forced the rest of it down, the meat having lost all its flavor.

    <hr>

 27. Mining & Surviving - II

    I returned to cracking rocks with my pickaxe, but that was short-lived. Now that I had proved that I could infuse more than a light stone, Dorian no longer bothered providing larger rocks to break. I quickly became relegated to shoveling debris into buckets and moving them out of the tunnel he was creating. He moved fast, far faster than I thought possible. A regular Paul Bunyan.

    My shoveling was simple but satisfying. It had none of the challenge of channeling, but I¡­appreciated the sense of accomplishment.

    I gritted my teeth at the sight of an ?ttar with the bandage walking back into the other shaft. The wounded had multiplied in the intervening hours, but by night¡¯s fall, there would not be one. Potions and [Healers]¡­

    I dropped my loaded buckets next to a cart. I was doing something, right? I was helping¡ª

    I scowled as I lifted a bucket and dumped it into the cart. I used to save people¡¯s lives.

    Why had I been ready to throw it all away?

    Because the grass is always greener on the other side, except that wasn¡¯t all of it. Seeing the tangible effects of my actions had an intoxicating quality. If I could heal lacerations, could I cure other diseases like Alzheimer¡¯s or Parkinson''s¡ªif they even had those here. But they would have something. Yet, all I did now was help move dirt.

    But what else could I do? Nothing but keeping at it.

    Despite the fair amount of ground stone at the bottom, not a speck of dust billowed upward. The next bucket was no different, just like all the previous buckets I had used to fill two carts to the brim. I shook my head. [Dust Suppression]. It had to be.

    No wonder nobody wears masks. Except, then why are they still coughing?

    ¡°Daniel, come over here.¡±

    I put down the buckets and moved down the tunnel. It was no more than fifty feet, but that had once been solid stone.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°I am going to need you to take over a bit. I need some time to check on these walls.¡°

    The tunnel was far from regular. He had moved forward quickly, following the natural contours of the stone. Large protrusions pushed into the tunnel, though he had, in most cases, enlarged it enough to let an ?ttar pass through without ducking.

    ¡°You want me to keep working on the far wall while you do that?¡± There was plenty of loose stone on the floor to move.

    ¡°Yeah, the walls might need bracing. The way the vibrations from your strikes spread will help me get a feel of this tunnel¡¯s stability.¡±

    ¡°A skill for that too?¡± I hadn¡¯t noticed it before, but despite the ample supply of lumber, I had not run into a single beam used to support a tunnel.

    He made a so-so gesture. ¡°It¡¯s gonna take me a few minutes. So go ahead and start. I will tell you when to stop.¡±

    I raised my pickaxe but stopped. ¡°This won¡¯t bring the whole tunnel down?¡±

    ¡°Nah. Feel free to go as hard as possible.¡±

    As hard as possible?

    Something twisted in my stomach. I stared at the wall, an obstacle that could be removed. With a yell, I brought the pick down towards the dark stone face. A rage that I hadn¡¯t known existed uncoiled mid-swing, driving Energy into my body and tool. My muscles thrummed. The Energy hit the junction and slowed, only for the torrent to crash past it, sweeping into the pick heedless of the lack of channels.

    My muscles jerked, and the point slammed into the surface. I barely closed my eyes in time to avoid flecks of stones exploding outward. My hands dropped, suddenly weak, but my pick still stuck in the wall. I sucked in air. Something warmed dripped onto my cheek. I dabbed it between two fingers. The warm liquid quickly became tacky. I followed a warm line to the drops¡¯ origins, touching my forehead and my upper cheeks. Each spot elicited pinpricks of fire.

    I had nearly blinded myself. Stupid. Or was it?

    I flexed my fingers, and they responded without delay. I had overdone it, but not by too much. I grabbed my pickaxe and hefted it for another swing. I had yet to see a single person with an eyepatch, which implied that a [Healer] could fix ocular trauma.

    I drove another heavy strike in the wall, and my face bore the brunt of another hail of stones.

    How did I get stuck with such a useless class? What was the point of being a physician¡ª[Physician]¡ªwhen there was magical healing?

    I wailed on the wall. Eye closed, streaks of fire crisscrossed my face, and warm rivulets dripped from my chin. I didn¡¯t stop. I couldn¡¯t. And yet, I never missed. I couldn¡¯t see the wall, but I knew where it was. I keep hitting it with strike after strike. When my muscles ached, I poured in Energy. When my Mark failed to keep up, I sucked in Aether. My lungs burned, but all the fatigue disappeared.

    I would have continued until I had gone mad with Aether toxicity if I hadn¡¯t punched completely through the wall.

    I fell forward onto my knees as my pickaxe broke through a hollow. I opened my eyes, blinking away the amalgamation of sweat, blood, and tears. Through blurriness, small red dots appeared.

    Small crystals?

    Then the dots shifted, and I scrambled to my feet, bringing my pickaxe with me. I didn¡¯t need Energy to move to get my body to move. Adrenaline sufficed.

    ¡°Terrorvoles!¡± I shouted.

    I brought the burning red point onto the first shadow that came out of the hole. The shape gave out a loud set of clicks rather than a squeal when my point punched into the center of mass. However, I was already preparing another swing because, behind it, shadows swarmed over shadows.

    I backed up as more of the dark shapes moved from the crevice in the stone. As they did, they resolved into an oblong, spiculated mass with multiple segmented legs extending from it. The reason and source of the clicking quickly became apparent: these things weren¡¯t terrorvoles.

    Crab-like monsters with large claws pushed from the opening. I swung my pickaxe, trying to keep them at bay and backing up with each swing. I loathed giving up the choke point, but I needed all the power I could muster. Their shells were harder than stone. Even coated with Energy, the point barely punched into one. Thankfully, the force of my blow carried. Piled as they were, each hit still worked on those under the one I struck, stunning, even killing a few when stacked.

    They still swarmed past into the tunnel and over the strewn rock I had created in my mad flailing. They weren¡¯t fast, but with their multiple legs, they easily skittered over debris in a relentless swarm. Loud clicks echoed along the hard rock as they opened and closed their pincers. They weren¡¯t large, but that meant nothing in this world. I didn¡¯t dare risk finding out how much force those blades could produce.

    My strikes slowed as I had to interweave between each blow a hard stomp to stop those that got too close. I inhaled the Aether. My vision reddened. My heart thundered. My muscles sang. I found a new speed to my strikes¡­and a new thrill to the carnage I wrought. But it wasn¡¯t enough. I wasn¡¯t going to be able to stop them all. A darker thought unfurled. Would there be more?

    I took a step back when a red line appeared in the gash of blackness.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Terrorvoles? Something worse?

    The thrum of the bloodlust dampened as my fear spiked. I took a step backward. I almost took another one, but there was no need. As quickly as the surge had come, it had stopped. The pinpricks of red disappeared. Something inside screamed in disappointment, screamed to push into the breach.

    What was wrong with me?

    I did the only thing I could think of. I pushed out the accumulated Aether in a large exhale. With the Aether and the Energy it generated purged from my body, I collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and relief.

    ¡°You done making a mess?¡± Dorian asked, moving past my heaving form and crushing a twitching crab with the hard sole of his boot.

    Of the tunnel or myself?

    I looked up at what I had wrought. Loose rock lay in a pile around the small crevice that the crab-like creatures poured from. From its edges, a spider web of cracks radiated outward to form a circular lip. A crater. I had hit the rock hard enough to form a crater, and the left animal parts strewn around it as if in homage.

    What had I done?

    I wasn¡¯t a killer. I¡ª

    I vented every remaining bit of Aether. I had to be done with it. My muscles screamed as I could no longer provide the Energy they demanded. A drop fell into my eye and burned. I lifted my arm, and it collapsed next to me. I tried again, this time managing to wipe it across my forehead, igniting a thin blaze as my reward. I muttered through the pain, ¡°I think so.¡±

    ¡°A wall and a pick aren¡¯t a bad combination when you want to vent some frustration, but drawing on Aether like that¡­¡±

    Was stupid. He didn¡¯t have to say it for it to be obvious.

    ¡°I know. I got scared, but I¡¯ve learned my lesson. I won¡¯t touch it again. I can¡¯t lose control like that.¡±

    I started to take a deep breath but stopped at the idiocy of my actions. It didn¡¯t take much down here to lose my lucidity. I would have to learn another way to calm myself. I had never had so little control¡ªat least not mentally.

    Out of reflex, my eyes dropped to my hands. While they didn¡¯t betray my anxiety like before, I could still make out a slight tremble. Still, a marked improvement.

    At least one good thing has come out of being here. Though what a trade¡ªgiving up the loss of control over my hands for a chance at losing my mind¡­

    ¡°Good. I didn¡¯t want to have to knock you out.¡± He opened a pouch at his waist and pulled out a bottle with red liquid. ¡°You will want to use it unless you favor a scar.¡± Without hesitation, I reached for it, but he pulled it back. ¡°You sure? Might make you look tougher, which you could use, you know, to help you with the women.¡±

    I shook my head at his shit-eating grin. ¡°Just give it to me. Do you have any water too?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Clean the wound and prevent infection.¡± I suppressed a sigh of frustration. ¡°To make sure there aren¡¯t any complications with healing.¡±

    ¡°Eh, it is a fresh wound.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s trivial to do it and good practice. I can¡¯t be sure the V¨ªsir would help if the wound¡±¡ªI sighed¡ª¡°festered.¡±

    He nodded in agreement. ¡°It is by the cart.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I pointed at the hole in the wall. ¡°You¡¯ll be good here?¡±

    He snorted as if the question was both elementary and insulting. ¡°That hole will just be a pocket. The stone crabs don¡¯t create a nest if there is easy access. You killed enough to scare them off.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I will be right back.¡±

    I headed out of the short tunnel. Compared to when we had first started, the walls had a smoother cast, smooth enough that light could now reflect off the tunnel¡¯s walls. I couldn¡¯t resist the urge to touch the walls. Skills or magic. Either way, they had the power here to reshape stone.

    I bent down and picked out a canteen out of a pack. I poured some of the clean water into my hand, and the pool in my palm turned to a sooty slurry. Water slipped through my rubbing hands and fell onto the stone. I scowled at the mess. It which only deepened after the realization that I had no towel. My clothes certainly wouldn¡¯t do.

    I brought a clean finger to my forehead, suppressing a wince with each touch of the tacky surface. Note to self. Dorian¡¯s suppression skill only works on dust.

    I made a cup out of one of my hands. My forehead burned when I dunked it in the pool I made with my palm, but at least I would be clean. What I would have given for a mirror, but I made do with touch.

    I took a dab of the healing potion. Now that I knew what to look for, its Energy was obvious. However, the Energy had a flavor to it. I couldn¡¯t put it into words. Perhaps more energetic or primed? I swiped some of the red liquid across my forehead. The magic tried to escape, leaking into other parts of my body to find any other nick or scrape to regenerate, but I walled in the Energy, holding it in my face.

    I pushed on the smooth, unbroken skin. Not a hint of pain. That was easier, far easier than with Dorian earlier. Two of the tiniest dabs were all it took.

    When the last traces of the healing potion¡¯s energy faded, words reverberated in my head.

    [Skill Gained: Enhance Medicinal]

    I almost dropped the bottle in shock. Instead, I rushed down the tunnel.

    ¡°Dorian, tell me you have a cut or scrape.¡± He turned around, head cocked in confusion. ¡°I just got my level 2 skill¡­I think.¡±

    ¡°You think?¡± He rested the head of the pick on the ground, but he couldn¡¯t hide his beaming smile.

    I couldn¡¯t keep the excitement out of my voice as I told him the story. ¡°Fine. It was pretty clear that I got something. [Enhance Medicinal]. I have a guess what it does, but I need a wound to test it.¡±

    ¡°Well, if that is all you need.¡± He pulled out a knife from his boot, and before I could stop him, he sliced his palm without a flinch of pain.

    ¡°Are you insane? What is with all you people and self-mutilation.¡± I shouted before grabbing his palm. A pool of dark red blood had already formed. I didn¡¯t need a thorough exam to know it was deep. ¡°Do you know how much damage you could have done?¡± He could have cut a tendon at the minimum.

    ¡°If it wasn¡¯t deep, how would you know it was enhanced.¡±

    ¡°At least pick something that couldn¡¯t impact your function,¡± I grumbled while pulling out the potion. ¡°How much would you typically use?

    ¡°Typically, I would need to pour at least a quarter.¡±

    Did I need that much? Only one way to find out.

    I took a dab, but not a small one. A drop of the red liquid fell from the tip. I internally cringed at my lack of gloves as I ran it across the wound.

    ¡°It is working.¡±

    The potion was, but I hadn¡¯t activated my skill. My breath caught. How do I do that? I did the only thing I could think of. I copied the actions that earned me the skill in the first place. However, with Dorian, I had less control than with my own body. With each passing second, the potion¡¯s magic seeped away.

    Stop!

    Then it did. The walls I wanted popped up. The liquid remained concentrated, the tendency to diffuse uselessly into the rest of his body, gone. But there was more. I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if not for my practice with the pickaxe. Though the potion was a liquid, a channel of sorts, not unlike the pickaxe, waited to be filled with Energy. Out of curiosity, I pulled my finger back, touching just the surface of the slurry of blood and magic. My sense of the channel weakened.

    I took the next step, pushing my Energy through it. With only minimal contact with the surface, I hit resistance, but slightly submerging my finger, or perhaps bringing my finger closer to the wound, eased the difficulty with transference.

    My forehead went cold as a channeled energy. I slowed the rate of infusion, and it still had the desired effect. The faint tingling along my finger lingered far longer than it should have.

    ¡°Are you going apply another?¡± He hadn¡¯t moved his hand. His laceration was still covered in a crimson coat.

    I let out the breath I didn¡¯t realize it was holding. I had been so close. I actually felt¡ªno sensed¡ªthe wound knitting. ¡°I don¡¯t think I need to.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He snatched his hand from mine and then stretched it without a hint of pain. Then, as if not truly believing, he ran his finger across the palm. ¡°I¡¯ll be...¡±

    ¡°Why are you so surprised? This seems trivial compared to what [Healers] can do.¡±

    ¡°True, but you don¡¯t seem to realize that most people don¡¯t have access or can afford a [Healer]. You could easily save somebody a week¡¯s pay, and that is here.¡±

    Right. High-grade healing potions were cheap here but nearly non-existent elsewhere.

    He rubbed the blood off his hand on the wall. ¡°You could potentially make some friends with this skill, though hopefully you will find a cheaper way to level in the future.¡± He went to grab his pickaxe but stopped. ¡°You sure you aren¡¯t a [Healer].¡±

    ¡°No. I couldn¡¯t do that without the potion. It was¡­it was like with the pickaxe. I could push my Energy into the potion and, by proximity, the wound.¡± I hadn¡¯t tried manipulating his injury, but deep down, I knew I couldn¡¯t. A wall, much stronger than the one I had erected to corral the potion¡¯s effects, existed around his cells. Even this close, I didn¡¯t have the power to punch through it.

    ¡°Still useful.¡± He picked up his pickaxe and walked back towards his work.

    Useful. I stood staring at his back as the word sank in. Useful. I sniffed with a bit of disbelief, but I couldn¡¯t deny it. Hope wormed into a hole deep inside, finding a home and kindling¡­something.

    I could ¡°heal¡± with potion. Fitting. Doctors at home didn¡¯t heal wounds with magic. They used their knowledge of the body and medicines. Dorian had said classes adhered to archetypes. Was it, therefore, unreasonable for me to expect a [Physician] to behave in a fundamentally different manner than a physician?

    I shook my head. This world needs an instruction manual.

    It certainly didn¡¯t change anything right now. Dorian was going to make a mess, and I would need to clear it. I walked back to the cart and grabbed my shovel and my canteen. I needed to clean off the remaining blood on his hand, but before I made it back to Dorian, he had already wiped his bloody palm on the damn wall.

    I scowled. First off, no way he got it all off. Worse, he''d left blood¡ªa biohazard¡ªsmeared on the wall where anyone could touch it.

    Infection control¡ªhell, we were lightyears from that¡ªbasic hygiene was atrocious here.

 28. The Commons - I

    The rest of the day in the mine was uneventful. I didn¡¯t question when he called an end to our shift. Instead, I carried our tools back to the cart to return them to the supply room.

    I was stacking our tools on the cart when Dorian spoke. ¡°It''s gonna be a big deposit."

    ¡°How can you tell?"

    ¡°Because it hasn¡¯t changed at all despite how far we tunneled.

    ¡°Was it that far?¡± We had made amazing progress, at least by the standards of non-mechanized mining without explosives, but it wasn¡¯t that far.

    ¡°It was enough. It didn¡¯t shift at all, which means only one thing. It is far. And if it is far, the only reason I can sense it¡­¡±

    He trailed off, waiting for me to fill in. ¡°Because it is big?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. He was a [Miner] to his core, and his excitement was infectious.

    I tilted my head at the group of ?ttir clustering at the entrance to the other shop. ¡°When are you gonna tell the Verndari?¡±

    He scoffed. ¡°I won¡¯t, but he will figure it out on his own. When we haven''t hit deposit in a few days, he''ll realize it''s got to be reasonably large.¡±

    ¡°Isn''t that going to piss him off?"

    ¡°So?¡±

    I shook my head. Real mature. Also, not the smartest. Of course, Dorian wasn¡¯t an under-leveled Human.

    The topic died as we neared other ?ttir in our crew. We walked back to the entrance in silence. None of the ?ttir made any effort to be friendly, but at least they didn¡¯t try to kill me. Did that make them or our Verndari the exception?

    We exited the mine in a pack with the majority of the miners heading towards the largest building in the residential section.

    Dorian looked toward the craftsmen¡¯s section. ¡°I¡¯m gonna check on your clothes. See if she¡¯s worked on them yet.¡±

    ¡°She said she would get us,¡± I cautioned. I had run into her type before during my time in the labs. Her friendly exterior was nothing more than that. Get between her and a project, and that facade would crumble. At home, it was just a verbal lashing. Here¡­ The weight of that aura remained fresh in my mind.

    ¡°Yeah, but she¡¯s forgetful when she has a project, which is always.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Your funeral. ¡°Just be clear it is you, not me asking.¡± In many ways, she was doing me a favor. I needed all the goodwill I could get. ¡°Do you want me to wait for you?¡±

    ¡°No. Just get your food.¡±

    ¡°I can have meat now, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just don¡¯t go home and take a nap. Hard to vent excess Aether if you¡¯re sleeping.¡±

    Right¡­just a little piece then.

    He waved and stepped away from the river of people.

    ***

    The throng of people flowed into the large building through huge, propped-open doors. I stopped suddenly at the sight of the hall, only to be shoved forward by the ?ttar behind me. I lost my balance but kept my awe. This building seemed impossible without machines, but then again, they had thrown up those walls that ringed up the camp.

    The rustic hall was breathtaking in its scope, even with its simplicity. The expedition had made good use of the trees¡¯ height. The large open room was tall enough that to allow for three full floors, and the architect or builders took advantage. Thick beams crossed the room and giant pillars grew from the floor to support lofted floors that receded like a staircase in an arena. Tables and chairs filled each floor, lit by a combination of light stones that hung as chandeliers or sconces. They all had an ample view of the center, but unless feasting was considered a battle here, there was no room for fighting. In the center, on a slight rise, a large banquet table fit for a king sat empty.

    And who is that for?

    I shuffled along, taking in more of the building. Though my company had just left the mine, others must have left earlier. Easily over a hundred sat with food, and the hall had room for many more. As with everything else here, the miners and workers divided into their respective groups. They sat in tight clusters with empty tables often serving as a buffer zone.

    I waited, watching and listening. The hall buzzed with conversation, though far quieter than I would have expected with over half the tables full. I could only make out snippets. The line suddenly shifted to the side, and I barely managed to move with it. An ?ttar carrying himself with an air of superiority then strode through that gap. He wasn¡¯t the only one. The pattern continued, a river of people parting to allow a select few to cut the line.

    If not for the pauses, the lines moved quickly, people flowing back in the opposite direction, carrying full plates of food. The clip spoke to the organization of this place. As I moved further inward, the lines divided, and a problem became evident. Oresiani, Volki, and ?ttir each had a separate line. However, as for Humans?

    I let out a sigh at my situation and for just how divided this place was. I ran the scenarios in my head.

    What are the odds that I can get served in the line for ?ttir or Volki? Screw it.

    I broke away from the mass winding forward. I walked towards the back along the periphery. I ignored the looks and occasional sneers, but I did my best to give space to those who had cut the line. I may not have Dorian¡¯s experience reading Marks, but even I could tell their complexity was a level above the rest.

    As expected, after making it to the back, I found not a single human. I did discover another reason for the split. I didn¡¯t need to taste it. A glance was enough to determine the difference between each group¡¯s quality of food, or at least between the ?ttir and the Oresiani or the Volki. The Attarsk food constituted pots of gruel.

    I shook my head at the inequity, but my stomach¡¯s growl brought the more salient point to the forefront.

    Eat when you can, sleep when you can, and don¡¯t touch the pancreas.

    At least two of those three held some truth during my years in residency. As for the last, maybe if I had lasted longer in my surgical residency, I would have confirmed it. Now, of course, I was struggling to make the first truism a reality, and of course, I held up my hands in front of my body, fingers spread. Solid as a rock.

    Oh, the irony, but not the worst trade-off as long as I could do something about the food.

    The only way to get the attention of a person working the line was to cut in. I hesitated until it became clear my indecision had begun to draw too much attention¡ªthe wrong type of attention. Questioning looks became sneers, and sneers became quiet jeers.

    I needed to move.

    I chose to brave a server¡¯s ire over the crowd. I moved toward the Oresian line. I didn¡¯t trust the others would let me pass without a fight. As I approached, the new challenge to my plan became apparent. The serving lines were understaffed for the amount of people coming through. A group of three Oresiani rushed between two tables placing bowls of soup and plates of sliced meat cut right off large haunches onto metal trays. They moved quickly, not spilling a drop.

    How?Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Barely audible over the din came, ¡°What does that Human think¡­,¡± and ¡°Arrogant¡­,¡± and ¡°Another group of Humans arrived?¡±

    Screw it.

    I pushed forward. ¡°Sorry, but excuse me.¡± My move elicited more surprise than anger from the Oresiani I cut between. I called out to a petite Oresian preparing plates, ¡°Excuse me, miss.¡± She neither slowed nor looked up. I tried again. ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    ¡°I am busy if you can¡¯t see. And¡­.¡° Something at the edge of imperceptibility washed over me. It was not all that different from the tingling of Energy transference, just strangely invasive. However, it disappeared as quickly as it came. ¡°You haven¡¯t earned the right to cut the line.¡±

    A few snickers followed her words, which I would take any other day over violence, but she still didn¡¯t look up from her work, the one action that would make further discussion moot. Only her sheer skill at her job kept my annoyance in check. In the brief span of words, she had plated three separate trays, which required reaching back to grab bowls of stew from another server. She had done that single-handed, without looking and without spilling a drop. ¡°You are impressive, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you are here? To flirt with me?¡± I opened my mouth and then shut it. An older Oresian miner who had been watching our interaction with a growing smile finally let out a laugh. She scrunched her nose, making it clear why she immediately misjudged my intention. ¡°At least have the decency to do it when you are getting the food. Now get back to the end of the line.¡±

    ¡°I don''t have a line.¡±

    ¡°How do you not¡ª¡± She finally looked up, and the bowl she was holding started to tip. My eyes widened. The thick stew lagged, but with that angle, the outcome was inevitable. ¡°¡ª[Perfect Recovery]. Gods, I can¡¯t believe you made me burn that skill already.¡±

    She quickly regained her composure and gave the old Oresian his completed tray along with a long scowl. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare laugh, old man, or next time I will give you a half-ration. I won¡¯t forget that you could have said something.¡± The old Oresian didn¡¯t bother hiding his smirk, but he mumbled something under his breath. I missed it, but she must not have as her scowl grew deeper. She went back to work, giving me the briefest of glances. ¡°Since your company¡¯s leader rudely forgot to inform the cooking staff of another company¡¯s arrival, you will need to ask your leader about getting your ration.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t get a notification because there isn¡¯t a new company.¡±

    ¡°What? How is that¡ªLook, I don¡¯t have time for this. Your tier isn¡¯t even close enough to get priority. Don¡¯t come back here until you talk with your company¡¯s head.¡±

    ¡°Sure, my ?ttarsk lead is going to be super helpful,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    ¡°But you¡¯re a¡ª¡°

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I waved off the young server. Of course, the line hadn¡¯t shrunk. My stomach rumbled. ¡°Dorian, I could kill you,¡° I muttered, though it was clearly not his fault.

    I was apparently louder than I had meant it to be because she called out before I had finished a single step. ¡°So you¡¯re Dorian¡¯s mysterious friend.¡°

    Her tone was ambiguous, but when I did an about-face, she was smiling, and her eyes practically sparkled in delight. ¡°Who would have guessed it was a Human? Just ask my boss in the back.¡± She never slowed in serving the food, but she made the direction clear with a tilt of her head. ¡°I had already prepped a tray for Dorian¡¯s friend as he requested.¡± She gave me another once over. ¡°That would explain some of the food choices.¡±

    I gave her the biggest smile and small thanks all the while trying to ignore the grumbling of some of the other Oresiani. I headed in the direction she had indicated. A small section in the back beneath the lofted second level had been cordoned off with a divider. When I turned the corner, a single Oresian with a single spoon tasted the various large pots and bowls that covered the tables.

    Quality control. She had to be the boss.

    She squinted as she saw me round the corner, but I just opened with, ¡°I am on the same crew as Dorian. I was told that I could pick up a tray.¡° The squint gained a raised eyebrow. ¡°I just found out today that he has been doing me a favor since,¡± I used my hands to showcase my very Human face, ¡°my choices for food seemed limited to nothing or taking my chances with the ?ttir.¡±

    She snorted but pointed to a table with a stone slab on it that abutted the back wall. Plates of sliced meat spread across every inch of the dark surface. Even from this distance, my mouth watered from their succulent aroma. At the very edge of the slab rested a tray with food not all that dissimilar to what the woman had been serving.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    I walked over and grabbed the tray only to jerk back. I rubbed my fingertips. Not burnt, but warm. I inched my hands towards the tray. The air above the slab was noticeably warmer as well.

    I shook my head. Who needs electricity when you have magic?

    I grabbed the tray, which, of course, had no meat. I counted my blessings and moved on. Up close and piping hot, the collections of fragrances were even more overpowering. While they encouraged the grumblings of my stomach, they managed to dampen the disappointment of another vegetarian meal. I swallowed the saliva starting to pool in my mouth and hurried towards the tables.

    Where to sit?

    I quickly gave up on the first floor, then, after a quick glance, the second. They were both packed. However, the third¡­. I hurried to the stairs, ignoring the hostile looks that came from any table on which my gazed lingered.

    Just keep your head down.

    I could survive the solitude. I had forgone enough parties in my time for it to be second nature, but what I couldn¡¯t survive was a punch to the head from a green giant.

    I rushed up the stairs to the third floor. It was hot, stuffy, and poorly lit, but it was thankfully empty. I found a small table along the wall that gave me a view of the stairs. I grabbed a chair at the small table and put down my plate.

    I started stuffing my face with food until a hacking cough stopped me. I couldn¡¯t see the person from my vantage, but they were probably a level below me. It continued. Deep and wet, that cough was bad, yet no one below me looked fazed. No one headed down the stairs, and those that I could see kept eating as if nothing significant had happened.

    Why the cough? They have [Healers].

    My mind ran through options, none of them gracious. In a world with life debts¡ªno, let¡¯s call it what it is¡ªslavery, rationing wouldn¡¯t be unexpected. The next spoonful of mash lost its taste, but I swallowed it if only to push down the rising bile.

    Maybe he just hasn¡¯t had time to go to one.

    I took another spoonful. I was missing too much context. I¡ª

    I am an idiot.

    There was more here. This camp was an organism, and I should be studying it because, unless simmering resentment and fear were a good thing, it wasn¡¯t healthy. My bird¡¯s eye view made that obvious.

    ?ttir, Volki, and Oresiani chatted and ate, but there was a clear hierarchy. Even with the hall filling up, no one had claimed the center table. It was set, but not one Volk, ?ttar, or Oresian dared approach. Weirdly, the Volki gave it more clearance than any ?ttar or Oresian. Or was that strange? Could I apply pack dynamics? A dangerous assumption. Regardless, that table was a point of contention. More than one ?ttar gave it an even darker look than some had given me. No love lost there.

    A soft thud came from my right. It took me a second before I realized how it came about. I had fallen back into a long-forgotten habit¡ªtwirling my spoon between my fingers. I smiled at what that implied while picking up my spoon from the table and placing it back on the tray. I would test how much skill I had regained another time. Instead, I refocused on the room.

    There was something else going on. I went with my gut. I stood up and peered over the edge to get a larger sample size. Not everyone hid their tattoos¡ªMarks¡ªand I saw enough to deduce a pattern.

    High-level people stuck together, and low-level people gave them distance. Another cough, this time more distant, broke through the din. Another reason for not getting healing? I kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier. After all, people literally had parted before them.

    I sat back down, pondering. Just how far did preferential treatment extend? This place sure had cliques¡ªand worse, cliques that didn¡¯t care for one another. I thought I had moved past all that. Caring for the sick and the dying had a unique way of putting things in perspective. Yet here I was, back in high school, but one on steroids: magic, monsters, and a brewing blood feud between seven-foot Adonises and werewolves. How the hell had they kept the peace long enough to build this place? It was a powder keg, and I needed out before it blew.

    This time, I stopped twirling my spoon before it flew from my hand. If a dining room brawl did happen tonight, it would definitely go to the ?ttir. The Volki in here may be swing picks all day, but they sure didn¡¯t look it. They had a slighter build than I did. But they aren¡¯t the true muscle in this place. Not a single Volkski [Guardsmen] ate here. Better food at the barracks?

    I needed allies. Casual friendships weren¡¯t going to cut it. Not that I had much chance of finding those here. At least two of the three races seemed to hate me for just being a Human.

    I shoveled the rest of the food into my mouth. Nothing more to learn here, at least nothing worth the risk of drawing unwanted attention. When the stairs emptied, I stood up leaving my tray on the table. The act grated against every bit of my upbringing, but that¡¯s what everyone else was doing.

    No unnecessary attention, which clearing my table would draw. The waitstaff here may grumble, but far worse jobs existed here¡ªI happened to work one of them.

    I hurried down the stairs. As I hit the bottom of the third flight, the few stragglers in the line parted, blocking the exit.

    Of course, perfect time for another high-level¡ª

    Dorian? Now he arrives? I slowed my pace down the stairs. Could he complicate things more?

    Then he walked into the hall with another man in tow. I did a double-take. If I hadn¡¯t been told that I was the only Human, I would have sworn one had just entered. He sure as hell wasn¡¯t an Oresian, not unless Oresiani came in tall, slender, olive-skinned, and green-haired. They chatted as they walked, not even registering the space everyone gave.

    I shook my head as I continued down the stairs. Another stray? Doubtful, but maybe a joke for later. I hit the last flight and picked up the pace now that the line had contracted.

    ¡°Human.¡°

    The word drifted over the din of the hall, but the deep, familiar voice that said it could only be one ?ttar and only one ?ttar in particular. The Verndari.

    I hesitated, weighing options. The voice sounded far away, though I didn¡¯t dare turn my head to look. I could stay, but if things went south, Dorian would step in, which could set off this powder keg. Also, there¡¯s no need to taint Dorian¡¯s reputation with such a clear association with a Human.

    I gritted my teeth. Sure, running would further mark me as a coward in the ?ttir¡¯s eyes, but I didn¡¯t have a better choice. Nothing good would come from waiting. I hurried, weaving through what remained of the crowd. A few Volki grunted, but I didn¡¯t dare stop. If this was high school, then as a Level-2 Human, I was its newest shrimp.

    <hr>

 29. The Commons - II

    The knock on the barred front door was loud enough to carry all the way back to even the bathroom. It wasn¡¯t pounding, but it had an urgent rhythm.

    I dried my wet face off, leaving a smear of dirt on a towel I had found. I would have to finish my inspection later.

    ¡°Yes?¡± I called to my guest. Though I could hazard a guess who it was after tonight¡¯s call out, better to be safe than sorry,

    ¡°Daniel, it¡¯s me.¡± I guess the call of ¡°Human¡± carried far enough for Dorian to catch it. It had been no more than five or ten minutes since I fled the hall, probably just enough time to excuse himself from his conversation but definitely not enough to get food. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to open the door up?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    His surprise was priceless. Too bad I couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°If I let you in, you are going to want to talk. Then you will miss dinner. I am not sure I want to meet hangry Dorian.¡±

    A guess, but judging by the sigh of resignation, my words rang true. ¡°You¡¯re sure you are okay in there?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I am just going to clean up. Enjoy your meal.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± he huffed, though at least he didn¡¯t stomp off¡­probably. Opening the door to find out would just defeat the purpose of this exercise.

    I slumped into one of the chairs at the table and whispered to myself, ¡°Can I trust you, Dorian?¡±

    He had cared enough to check on me. He had bled for me multiple times, but the Quartermaster had sent me his way. Of course, the world continued to suck and didn¡¯t respond with an answer. I need allies, not just friends. I also couldn¡¯t remain a low-level target. I needed levels, which, if Dorian was correct, meant that I needed patients. Dorian might be my only avenue for some. Unless¡­did I count? I swallowed. That was a painful and dark path. One that I had started down, even if unintentionally. Speaking of that¡­

    I dragged myself to the back and finished washing up. I was a mess. Dirt sloughed off with each splash of cold water on my face. I emptied the water in the basin three times before it stayed clear.

    Now stripped of grime, I pushed back the hair to expose my forehead. Not a scratch despite the battering my face took from the shower of stone shards.

    Those healing potions are a total cheat. They completely eliminate the value of all my training¡­and I need to get one.

    I stripped down. The bathtub had been calling to me, and the cold water in the buckets wasn¡¯t enough of a deterrent after today¡¯s stint in the mine. If I stretched it, I had just enough water left.

    <hr>

    I had barely finished dressing after an unexpectedly warm bath when knuckles rapped on my door. I eyed the pattern embedded in the wood, offering another small thanks. Then I yelled from the back, ¡°Coming.¡±

    I missed the response, the sound muffled as I pulled down the itchy but clean sweater. ¡°Dorian, that you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Now open up.¡±

    What had that been? Thirty minutes? He ate fast. Damn, he really did care.

    ¡°Just a second.¡±

    I lifted the heavy bar and opened the door. Dorian walked in without an invitation. He dropped the pack he was shouldering onto the table, and the items inside let out a dull clunk.

    ¡°Shut the door, then sit. We have to talk.¡±

    He opened the bag and pulled out a small cask, a hunk of cheese, a wooden knife, and two tall wooden mugs.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± It looked obvious, but expectations and reality hadn¡¯t exactly been lining up for me lately.

    ¡°Partly me making amends, and partly me trying to forget.¡±

    ¡°Amends for what?¡±

    ¡°That is what I was telling myself. As I see it, I already paid my debt with the two tongue-lashing I received tonight, but Thalia¡ª¡°

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°The little snot whose cute mouth hides a tongue sharper than a blade.¡± Scowling at my confusion, ¡°Bah. The woman who helped you with your tray of food.¡± He had to mean the young woman working the line, not the boss lady in the back. ¡°She thinks I owe you an apology for not accompanying you to the Commons. Unfortunately, she¡¯s probably right, which means that I will never hear the end of it.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t exactly the friendliest place I have ever eaten.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. The Verndari had three other ?ttir with him when he called you out.¡±

    I swallowed. Three? ¡°You don¡¯t think¡­?¡±

    ¡°He would have done something. I don¡¯t know. Greenskins like him like to test the waters. They are chafing under the rules and life-debts. However, I doubt it. You have some protection.¡±

    He didn¡¯t elaborate further. He cracked open the cask and poured the dark fluid into the mugs. A creamy head rose top, and a bouquet of pine and chocolate exploded outward.

    I glanced the only good thing about this conversation so far.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    He pushed a mug to me. ¡°Take that slow.¡±

    I nodded. My tolerance had waned over the years, but that was before my body lost over ten years. Still, was I naive to alcohol? I didn¡¯t need a repeat of the one too many college nights when I was dragged out of the stacks.

    I cradled the mug between my hands. ¡°Okay. Consider this a fair apology. Now, what are you trying to forget?¡¯

    ¡°Kyria Rhaptis.¡±

    I laughed. ¡°Not ready yet?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Then he grumbled, ¡°With the amount of time she yelled at me, she could have just done the enchantments.¡±

    I laughed harder. ¡°I told you¡ª¡°

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± He took a sip. ¡°Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think it¡¯s you who should be apologizing. ¡±

    ¡°Hey now.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Fine. Fine. Even if you are the root of all this, it isn¡¯t your fault. And it isn¡¯t like I¡¯m really sharing this with you.¡±

    I gave him a quizzical look, and he motioned for me to take a sip. I brought the mug to my mouth and savored the drink.

    Damn, it is good¡ª

    My world swam for a second as the alcohol hit with the force of a freight train.

    Jesus, all that from a single sip?

    ¡°This is¡­strong.¡±

    Dorian just snickered. ¡°Yeah. As I said, I am only ¡®sharing.¡¯ Take it easy. The fermentation concentrates the Aether and the alcohol.¡±

    ¡°Is this what they were serving in the hall?¡± If so, it was an even better move to have skipped grabbing a mug on the way to my table.

    ¡°That swill? Please never again compare that to this. No, this is the good stuff. Oresian ale fermented in Aether-infused stone casks and aged in high-tier wood barrels. The stuff they brew in our local ¡®brewery¡¯ will never compare.¡±

    His tirade ended as fast as it began. I said nothing and continued to nurse my beer. The silence stretched just long enough for it to become awkward before he broke it.

    ¡°You¡¯re not from around here are you.¡±

    ¡°I would think that was pretty obvious.¡°

    ¡°Bah, that isn¡¯t what I meant. The powers that be think you are some stuck-up noble that wanted to gain some levels and prove himself in the Wilds only to lose his team and nearly get himself killed.¡±

    I took a long sip of my beer. It was stupid. I needed to be clear-headed. This was dangerous territory, but¡­

    ¡°And what do you think?¡±

    ¡°You have the soft look and education of nobility, but it is clear you aren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Should I be insulted?¡±

    ¡°As if. Any Human nobility would be whining about even lifting a pick. You actually did hard labor.¡±

    ¡°I could have been raised right.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°You mean wrong. You didn¡¯t bother trying to pay off the debt or claim it didn¡¯t apply.¡±

    ¡°Humans do life debts, and maybe my house is poor.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but unlike most people here, I have been to the nearby Human settlements and met with the houses. You are not their kin. Also, your hair and eye color are wrong.¡±

    Damn. I took another sip to hide my indecision. Friend or ally or a plant? The Quartermaster kitted me out, but she was in bed with the Alfa, which meant I could trust her as far as I could throw her.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡ª¡°

    Dorian cut me off. ¡°Did I tell you how I joined our current crew?¡± I shook my head. ¡°People here don¡¯t want to talk about it, and you shouldn¡¯t either. It will only cause problems. But I am going to tell you because you deserve to know how much support you will get from the leaders of this expedition.

    ¡°The first days of setting up camp in any expedition are always dangerous. Clearing the area, harvesting, and heavy skill usage attract the wrong type of attention. However, this time it was worse than normal. The monsters that attacked were a tier higher than expected. Personally, I think we should have left, but the Alfa believed it was a sign that we had found a high-density Aether mine. The Quartermaster agreed, though she had her own biases. It would have been a huge loss for the clan if we turned back. Even if my opinion had mattered¡ªwhich it didn¡¯t¡ªI couldn¡¯t have argued with them. And time has proven them both right. The risks were worth it. Any Oresian would consider selling their first child to be on an expedition with these yields.¡±

    ¡°But there is always a price.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and you are sitting in it.¡±

    ¡°The previous tenants didn¡¯t make it.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°An entire group. True the group was small and under-leveled, but the Alfa wouldn¡¯t provide them with any extra protection without a stiff cost. And since the Alfa wants his coin, no other groups were permitted to join them, not that anyone besides my company would have helped. Still, the Quartermaster helped enforce the Alfa¡¯s ruling.¡± Staring down into his drink, he shook his head as if trying to wipe away the memory. ¡°They had finished building this longhouse, but the camp needed more lumber. The pay was good because the easy stuff had been cut. They decided to risk it. I warned them¡ª¡°

    He choked up. I let him have his emotions, but it took effort. Holding space for emotions had never come easy. Even after years of practicing the skill, years of dealing with the emotional aftermath of telling a family member their loved one was dying, it still drained me. However, it made me a better doctor and, maybe, a bit less burnt one. His pain was different than what my patients and their families had borne, but the weight was no less heavy, especially for his age.

    In some ways, he needs me as much as I need him. Plus, I also understand this burden well.

    He sniffed. ¡°Sorry. I¡ª¡°

    ¡°They were your first leadership role, right?¡±

    He gave me a sad smile. ¡°Was I that obvious?¡±

    ¡°It is always the decision we make that haunt us the most.¡±

    Yes, Dorian. I had failed people too. I had sent one too many people to an early grave or something worse with a wrong call.

    He didn¡¯t ask me to elaborate, but he let out a rueful chuckle. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t nobility, but somehow, I know that you have led others. Still, I wasn¡¯t exactly the leader. They wouldn¡¯t have stood for it. They were¡ª

    ¡°Humans.¡±

    ¡°You know? You are quite perceptive for a newcomer.¡±

    Pointing at his mug, ¡°might want to slow down on that if you think that. You all but said it.¡± Even if he hadn¡¯t, the clothes, the location of the longhouse, the fact he picks up strays¡­.obvious.

    ¡°Still, I was supposed to be providing guidance. My clan does lots of business with non-Oresian groups. It is a tradition in my family to work outside our clan before returning to take a leadership position. I failed them. Then, because I still needed the experience, the Quartermaster moved me to our current crew as if nothing had happened.¡±

    ¡°An ?ttarsk one?¡±

    ¡°Success isn¡¯t required, but I suspect it was punishment for the choice words we exchanged.¡± He took another long drag of his drink. ¡°I am not sure this story is helping gain your trust.¡± He fished something out of a pocket. ¡°Here.¡±

    I took the sheet of paper he handed me, giving it a quick look. ¡°This is the letter I gave you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Give it a read.¡°

    I unfolded the dirt-stained paper:

    Watch over this Human. He will be part of your crew.

    -LAC

    So little written, but still something unclenched in my stomach. Everything matched my read on him¡ªhis story, his views on life debts, the palpable bitterness when he spoke of the Quartermaster. However, this letter cemented it. He wasn¡¯t some shill.

    I gave the letter back to him when done. He took it, stuffing it back into a pocket. ¡°Now mind you, she knows something is off about you, but that is it.¡±

    ¡°So you are going out of your way to help me was¡­¡±

    ¡°I think me making amends. I let one Human crew down. I won¡¯t do it again. Plus, I was hoping you could help me hit on the ladies.¡±

    I almost spit up my drink. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡±

    He gave me a large smile. ¡°Mostly, but,¡± he used his hands to showcase his golden face and broad chest¡ªboth still rocking a thin film of dust, ¡°I am young and handsome.¡± I cocked an eyebrow, and he waved. ¡°Bah, it¡¯s a joke. Save that annoying twerp in the Commons, there are no other Oresiani near our age here. My attempts on the one eligible ?ttar have gone nowhere.¡±

    He raised a hand to his chin. ¡°Maybe if there were more... Nah, wouldn¡¯t matter. As you know, most greenskins tend to be either too boring or arrogant, and Volki, while hot, are too dumb¡­¡±

    He squinted, as if just now remembering the whole reason for this conversation. ¡°You do know that, right?¡±

    I folded the letter back up. Time to choose.

    I needed allies. He was connected. He also wasn¡¯t a good enough liar to fake all that story. He practically wore his emotion on his sleeve. However, most importantly, I sensed a real friendship brewing.

    I took a deep breath and chose.

 30. Revelations and Negotiations - I

    No, I don¡¯t know that.¡± The decision to bear my secrets and explain things should have been easier, but as they say, once burned. This time, though, the stakes could be life and death. Except, Dorian had only helped. It was the only reason that I spoke the next words. ¡°In fact, I don¡¯t know anything about Oresiani, ?ttir, or Volki.¡±

    ¡°You are joking.¡±

    ¡°No. Where I am from, other races are a thing of myths.¡±

    ¡°How are you here?¡±

    ¡°That is the first question you ask? Not where are you from? Or how is that possible?¡± Then it clicked. In a world of levels, I shouldn¡¯t be here. I should be dead. My personal experience made it hard to argue otherwise. I barely survived 10 minutes in the wilderness, much less trekking multiple days through monster-infected lands. Did teleportation exist here? ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He frowned, and I threw up my hands. ¡°One minute, I was home, and then, in a flash, everything and everyone I knew was gone.¡±

    His eyes softened. ¡°Sorry. It is hard to lose lose people.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± what I meant? But it was true in the general sense, and my heart ached as if it was. I missed my home. This had been as much a hell as anything I could conceive. If I was a religious man¡­ But I wasn¡¯t, and that path led nowhere good. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be here. I am useless. My job has been completely replaced by magic. Since I have been here, I have seen what some would call miracles each day with my own eyes.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait. What exactly do you mean by magic?¡±

    ¡°Anything not involving¡ª¡± How could I describe modern medicine to someone who didn¡¯t know about electricity and microbiology? ¡°Let¡¯s just call it any healing that uses potions and skills.¡±

    ¡°That is all healing.¡±

    ¡°Maybe for you! We didn¡¯t have any of that.¡±

    ¡°None of that? Did you not have skills either?¡±

    ¡°We have skills. We learn and train them over years, but they don¡¯t have the power they do here.¡± It was a close enough truth.

    He rocked back his chair, silent. I swallowed at his look but waited for him to process my bombshells. Finally, he spoke more to the room than to me. ¡°By the gods, I never thought them real, and here I am meeting someone from one. You¡¯re from a null zone¡ª¡°

    ¡°A null zone?¡±

    ¡°¡ªwith an isolated population at that.¡± The pace of his words matched his excitement, which bubbled out of him like a shaken bottle of pop bursting open.

    He eyed me up and down. ¡°You are far less primitive than I would have expected. I know it isn¡¯t unheard of for groups to flee and then get cut off by monsters. But the numbers are always small. The last time a significant pocket was reported was centuries ago. Even then, that was chalked up to rumors. With larger groups, society tends to crumble fast as strength and skills fail in the negligible Aether density. But if what you are saying is true, then your people survived and explored¡­¡°

    He jumped up from his chair. ¡±Your clothes! How long had you been traveling¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter. If there is even a chance, we have to tell her. Of all the people, she could make it work. You may have been wearing an Aether mine without even realizing it.¡±

    He didn¡¯t even wait for me as he rushed to the door. I stared at the empty room and the door, swinging closed after bouncing hard off the wall.

    ¡±That didn¡¯t go as expected,¡± I said to the empty room.

    Then Dorian popped his head back through the doorway, ¡±Are you coming?" When I didn¡¯t move immediately, he made an exaggerated wave. ¡°Come on! What are you waiting for?¡±

    An explanation, but that didn¡¯t seem to be coming any time soon. There were also worse ways for the conversation to have ended.

    I followed him out into the twilight. Glowing blue lights hung from the buildings and walls. Except for rare stragglers stumbling from the Commons to the longhouses, the only other people outside manned the walls. An occasional whistle came the above. I couldn¡¯t help but look up, but the cliff face had long fallen to shadow. Electric lights made it so easy to forget the horrors that could hide in the dark, but here, they hadn¡¯t forgotten.

    For Dorian, it might as well be the middle of the day. His excitement had not even started to wane. He had only increased his speed after he saw that I had exited the building. If not for my longer legs, I would be jogging. ¡°Dorian, where are we going?¡±

    ¡°To Avin¡ªKyria Rhaptis, of course. You may have what we call ¡®null gear.¡¯ Do you understand what that means?

    ¡°Obviously not. Did you not listen to what I said?

    ¡±I did, and that''s why we are rushing. Null materials let you do amazing enchants. It isn¡¯t too hard to find the null metals, but with organics, it is next to impossible.¡±

    ¡°So they are valuable?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he replied as if that word didn¡¯t do it justice.

    ¡°Do you think I can sell it to get rid of my life debt?

    ¡°I doubt it.¡±

    ¡°But didn¡¯t you just say it was valuable?¡±

    ¡°To the right person, it is priceless. Unfortunately for you, the only person who would want it is Kyria Rhaptis. You might finagle some amount to pay down your debt, but she knows you have no other option.¡±

    ¡°Can I save it?¡±

    ¡°No, it will become tainted with time. Who knows how much you have already lost?¡±

    I had a treasure that could free me from debt, but I couldn¡¯t use it because I was in debt. I gritted my teeth. This was too sickeningly close to horror stories I had regarding patients who couldn¡¯t afford their meds, causing them to go to the ED only to rack up more bills. ¡°Would she really¡ª¡°

    ¡°Bend you over a barrel? Yes. I have personally seen her make a grown clan leader cry in negotiations, and I have heard of far worse. Never forget, no matter how she appears, she isn¡¯t nice.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°So I am screwed.¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡± He stopped before the door and, before knocking, added, ¡°It is tempting to try to trade for your debt, but you have a real opportunity. Forget the basic stuff. She enchants for nobility, and now you can demand it.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡±

    ¡°Because she can level.¡±

    Before I could say another word, he pounded on the door. He only gave it seconds without an answer before he pounded again. After the fourth cycle of knocking, a voice dripping with anger finally called from behind the door. "This better be good, or I am going to turn you into ash and bury you so deep no one will find you.¡±

    ¡±It will be."

    ¡°I cannot believe I recognize that voice. Dorian, you have already bothered me once this evening. I don¡¯t care who your mother is. It looks like you will need a more direct lesson on the importance of other people¡¯s time.¡±

    Suddenly, a green light bathed the door and wall of her shop. A wave of heat followed, rising up my legs to my face. The source was not hard to find. On the ground, red cracks had begun to form. I took a step back and sank into the ground as it was the softest of clay.

    ¡°Dorian!¡±

    He ignored me and the fact that he, too, had sunk inches into what used to be solid earth. ¡°Daniel, the Human, might be from a null zone. A null zone!¡±

    The green light disappeared in a bright flash. With it, the heat vanished, and I was thrown or, more aptly, bounced upward. I stumbled as gravity reasserted itself and almost missed the blazing eyes that cast a red pall on the gold-tone face inspecting us from the open doorway. By the time I blinked, a kindly grandmother had replaced the demonic visage.

    Maybe I am in hell.

    She waved Dorian in as if nothing had happened. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me earlier?¡±

    ¡°I just found out.¡±

    ¡°Did he not¡ªof course he wouldn¡¯t.¡± She rushed to the back of her room, tossed a few bags to the side, and found the one with my clothes. "Do you have any others besides this?¡±

    "No, that''s all my clothes from home.¡±

    She pulled out clothes from the back and laid them down on the table: a white coat, a pair of blue scrubs, a white undershirt, black boxers briefs, and a pair of partially chewed athletic socks. They were a mess, though only the white coat and socks were in true disrepair. The rest were heavily soiled by my work.

    She examined as if she was a master craftsman from a movie. At times, she put her face inches away from the fabric. Other times, she dusted off the dirt and lifted them to the light. She punctuated her work with random comments such as ¡°such consistency,¡± ¡°so elastic,¡± or ¡°how did they get the colors without tainting the fabric?¡± There was a reverence in the way she handled my dirty clothes. Though, when she lifted my sock and boxers to her nose to smell them, it did diminish the effect.

    She finally looked up from her bench. ¡°This is almost too late,¡± she admonished. ¡°If it had been anyone else, they would have been useless.¡°

    I frowned, and then Dorian¡¯s previous words echoed in my mind. How much of this was negotiation and how much of this was truth? I wasn¡¯t a negotiator, and my experience in creative wording to get medications and imaging approved by insurance companies would probably be of little use here. But as they said, fake it until you make it.

    ***

    I stared down the demon disguised as a kindly grandmother. ¡°Please. Almost means that they are still useful. And since this gear is related to my allotment, you can charge the Alfa for at least some of the cost of the enchantments?¡°

    She howled. ¡°That is a stretch. They would never allow an enchantment like that. This is way out of an acceptable range. That is, of course, if it will even take a high-level enchantment.¡±

    ¡°I am sure they will. This is organic.¡± If my time here had taught me anything, it was that wood or, as Dorian implied, organics had a special ability to channel Energy. All my stuff was cotton, even my undershirt. On my resident¡¯s salary, the extra cost of athletic wear never seemed worth it. Boring white shirts worked fine. Only my boxer brief¡¯s waistband and my socks should have synthetics.¡±

    ¡°What do you know about fabrics? This is nothing like wool or spider silk.¡±

    I was out of my depth. She was right. I knew nothing about fabrics, and there probably were differences. But when in doubt, bluff. ¡°It may be neither of those, but I know it will work. It¡¯s clearly organic. It¡¯s¡ª¡°

    The hunger in her eyes stopped me long enough for my brain to catch up to my tongue. This shouldn¡¯t be an argument. It was cotton, the most common fabric for clothing¡ªback on Earth. Here, they may not have cotton or the means to produce thread in massive quantities. I wasn¡¯t the only one bluffing.

    ¡°You don¡¯t recognize this fabric.¡±

    She didn¡¯t school her face quickly enough, and Dorian let out a low whistle. ¡°That has to be a first.¡±

    ¡±I can tell you what it is.¡± Thankfully, the labels made that easy, ¡°but you will have to add that info to the tally.¡±

    She scowled but didn¡¯t object. ¡°Fine. Deal.¡±

    ¡°Almost all of this is cotton.¡± The fabric name rolled off my lips without a hint of a translation failure, meaning it did exist here. Pointing to my socks and boxer briefs, ¡°These will have some other fabrics to give elasticity, but they are a small component.¡±

    She dove back to studying the material. She pulled tension on my scrubs and undershirt and then brought them up to the light. ¡°It can¡¯t be. It is so thin and too uniform.¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± I grabbed my scrub pants and found the label. ¡°Cotton: 100%.¡± They couldn¡¯t read it, but it served to drive home the point.

    ¡°Where are you from?¡±

    Shit. In our haste, I had forgotten: the only way for two people to keep a secret is for one of them to be dead.

    Dorian came to my rescue. ¡°Even if he could, you know he shouldn¡¯t answer that.¡±

    She eyed me and Dorian for a long time before nodding slowly. ¡°You can keep that a secret for now. I can see why that knowledge could be dangerous for those involved.¡° She pulled the waistband of my boxer briefs. ¡°This can¡¯t be cotton.¡±

    ¡°No. It isn¡¯t.¡± I checked the tag. ¡°It is spandex.¡±

    How did you explain synthetics to someone who didn¡¯t understand plastics? You don¡¯t.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how it is made.¡± Not a lie, though, as soon as I even thought of chemical reactions, a picture of a page from an organic chemistry book containing a few key elements and reactions entered my mind. It was just one of many.

    [Eidetic Memory] again? Spandex seems like a stretch for the medicine, even if it came from an Orgo book.

    Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she decided not to push further. She reached out a hand for the piece I took and spread it back out on the table. After pondering the selection, she offered, ¡°How about this: I will offer to enchant your coat or both your blue shirt and pants for the rest of the pieces.¡± I snorted in disdain. ¡°What? Without my help, this cloth is worthless. If you don¡¯t want to take it, you can leave.¡±

    Dorian had described her as a master negotiator, but she was displaying less skill than a novice used-car salesman. Then, the answer to why became apparent.

    The room began to hum with Energy. The familiar tingling danced along my skin, and the hairs on my arms rose in response. An oh-so-subtle reminder of who had the power in this room.

    Why negotiate when you can intimidate?

    Except Dorian¡¯s eyes were alight with amusement. It was so at odds with the situation unless¡­.

    I played the one card he gave me. ¡°That won¡¯t work. I know you need this far more than I do. I may not understand why, but you can level from this. I¡¯m guessing a level is worth a lot to you.¡±

    She snapped a vicious look at Dorian. ¡°You told him? ¡±

    He couldn¡¯t quite suppress his smile. ¡°Of course. It is his stuff, and maybe if you hadn¡¯t been so mean earlier this evening, I would¡¯ve been more inclined not to give away a major bargaining chip.¡±

    Rage flashed across her face, and I would have sworn the temperature in the room increased by a few degrees. However, both disappeared in a flash. She swung back towards me and gave me a sweet smile. I¡¯d seen that smile from my grandmother¡­when she lured me closer with a cookie and then pinched my cheeks.

    Enough was enough. I was a doctor, not a merchant. ¡°Can we just skip the negotiation and find a mutually beneficial deal? It is getting late.¡±

    Dorian laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not very often that you get stuck with such a poor hand.¡±

    Kyria Rhaptis screwed up her face, and for a brief second, the room whined, not hummed.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she sighed. The room returned to normal, and I let out a breath I was holding. After this, Dorian and I were going to have a long talk about using me to provoke authority figures. ¡°That little brat took all the fun out of it.¡± She continued, each word seeming to pain her. ¡°It looks like I¡¯m not gonna get the bulk of this, but I am sure we can work something out.¡± She studied the clothing. ¡°First thing first. Which of these articles of clothing have the most significance to you.¡±

    ¡°Significance?¡±

    She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Dorian. ¡°You told him how to undercut my negotiation, but you didn¡¯t tell him about what he was negotiating for?¡±

 31. Revelations and Negotiations - II

    ¡°We were in a hurry. It isn¡¯t exactly a common thing that one happens upon possible null materials.¡±

    ¡°Screw my negotiation and then force me to educate.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Though, better me than you, I suppose. I am sure your description would not do these enchantments justice.¡± She let out another sigh, but as she spoke, she had no anger. Rather, she sounded not unlike lectures given by an Attending completely enraptured by their specialty.

    ¡°Enchanting is a large topic. Do you know anything about it by chance?¡±

    ¡°Only that that they exist.¡±

    ¡°As expected, if you grew up in a null zone.¡± She let her words hang while giving me a questioning look, which I ignored. As much as she wanted to ask more about it, she continued with her lecture. ¡°In its simplest form, they use Aether or Energy to mimic skills.¡±

    ¡°So their power would then scale with the tier of the zone,¡± I interrupted.

    ¡°Yes. Though, as with skills, there is an upper limit of power an enchantment can reach, which is typically based on the materials being used.¡± That remark had implications, but I would have to discuss it with Dorian later. ¡°I want to emphasize that materials are everything to enchantments. They affect potency, but they also determine which skill can be mimicked.¡± She paused as if waiting for a question, and when I nodded, she continued. ¡°Class enchantments bypass many constraints found with typical enchantments. They do this by trading away flexibility for increased potency, increased efficiency, and, if you are lucky, decreased material volume. Even then, many find their restrictions too great to be worth the effects.¡±

    ¡°The limitation on a material¡¯s use makes sense, but you lost me on that last part.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course. I keep forgetting you have no experience. A large number of enchantments use ambient Aether to function. However, some require the infusion of Energy to unleash their effects. While they will never be as good as an equal-tier skill, they can be used by anyone. In fact, Humans tend to be naturally gifted at enchanting. It is what lets them be so successful and allows them to compensate for their lower Potential, especially when they move into higher-tier regions.

    ¡°Class enchantments that require infused Energy prefer the Energy to carry the signature of its class. Without the right signature, the drain on the person becomes exorbitant. As such, you won¡¯t see skills outside that class or classes derived from a common root class.¡±

    My heart thudded. ¡°Does that mean I could heal wounds like a [Healer]?¡±

    ¡°If only it were so easy. There is more to healing than just pouring in Energy. Regardless, you still need to be able to hit the minimum requirement of the skills.¡±

    ¡°Potentials?¡±

    ¡°Yes. They can be mitigated by different materials, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Only to some degree.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too disappointed. You now have a chance that only a few of the highest-born get. All it will take is some sweat and blood.¡±

    ¡°Are we talking about actual sweat and blood?¡±

    When she spoke it, the phrase ¡°sweat and blood¡± had a subtle dissonance similar to when I spoke a word that did not translate, and her widening smile confirmed my intuition regarding the translation failure.

    ¡°Not quite. It is more my labor than your sweat, but it is your blood and a scraping of your Mark.¡± She laughed at my surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. A healing potion will fix things up. You will have to trust me. It will be worth it.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because another important category of enchantments exists. Some consider it a sub-category of class enchantments, which I find ridiculous. Why people can¡¯t look past a quirk in their discovery¡­¡± She waved a hand. ¡°I won¡¯t bore you with details of that controversy. Regardless, this type of enchantment has many names, but most call them essence enchantment.¡±

    ¡°Because they are literally from my blood and Mark, which I bet is synonymous with a person¡¯s essence.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Exactly. I do love it when my student tries to learn.¡± She shot Dorian a scowl. ¡°Something you could learn from.¡± Returning her attention to me, ¡°With these null materials, you have access to them.¡±

    ¡°And that is good because?¡±

    ¡°They have the potential to be extremely powerful. Unlike other enchantments, they grow with the user.¡±

    ¡°Which I am assuming is good.¡±

    Dorian snorted. ¡°You can say that.¡±

    Kyria Rhaptis continued, ¡°They also all act at the same strength as a person¡¯s skills.¡±

    ¡°What is the catch? It isn¡¯t the cost.¡±

    ¡°Actually, it would be. These take skill to make, but it is well within mine to do so. However, materials can be hard to find. Typically, you need to find materials that accept a person¡¯s essence.¡±

    ¡°But because these are null materials, that isn¡¯t an issue.¡±

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s hard to override materials¡¯ natural essence.¡±

    Dorian interjected, ¡°Which is why metals tend to work better.¡±

    ¡°But they are inherently weaker. You can mix in components to combat it, but the heating and shaping tend to weaken their effects. And good luck with trying to do any of that once you inlaid the imparted essence. Also, who wants to be walking around in metal armor? They never conduct Energy as well as organic materials.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her. She¡¯s biased by her trade. Sure, unalloyed metals are nearly useless, but metals can be made to take infusions. Also, powerful runes are easier to inlay and last far longer.

    She scoffed. ¡°Still have to channel Energy to move quickly in that stuff. A waste of Energy if you ask me.¡± Dorian tried to object, but she spoke over him. ¡°That is all beside the point. You have everything that you need here, assuming I am correct.¡±

    ¡°About¡­¡±

    ¡°That some of these clothes resonate with your class.¡±

    ¡°How would that be important? It is just cloth.¡±

    ¡°It is a great mystery, but I like to think that it has to do with how they are made. You are imparting your essence into an item. For example, the [Swordsman] who obtained a piece of gear with an essence enchantment for [Spearman] would find it not only weak but also unable to change with them.¡°

    ¡°And also impossible for him to make since he is a [Swordsman], not a [Spearman],¡± muttered Dorian.

    ¡°What this brat is forgetting is that someone can use another person¡¯s equipment. However, essence enchantments are more unforgiving than class enchantments. Perhaps paradoxically, with the class enchantment, the skill is more important than the classes. Take [Thrust], which is a skill both [Swordswomen] and [Spearwomen] may obtain. Its power will be far less diminished if it is a class enchant than an essence enchant.

    ¡°Let me give you a different analogy that better elucidates the underlying issue. They say clothes make the man, but it is also true that certain men would never deign to wear certain clothing. Show me a noble who would wear peasant garb consistently and still be able to call themselves a noble. The same goes for a [Warrior], [Mage], or [Carpenter]. If they continued to wear it as they leveled, that item would not grow at the same rate¡ªif at all. As your Marks shape your skill, they also shape the enchantment. If you aren¡¯t in tune with your piece of clothing, then the essence imparted in the clothing won¡¯t pick up on your growth. Eventually, you will just replace it with something else, which is a colossal waste of resources, not to mention the time of a skilled craftswoman.¡±

    ¡°All because of belief?¡±

    ¡°Skills and even class evolutions have turned on less.¡±

    I touched my Mark as that sunk in. It didn¡¯t seem out of the question. The placebo effect was a real thing, but the implications were a bit stunning and frightening. Could my unconscious biases be transferred with some blood and a bit of my Mark? Unless blood was the carrying agent¡ªwhich seemed very unlikely, then my Mark was directly tapped into my brain. That shouldn¡¯t be surprising. After all, I had directed my body¡¯s Energy flows with my thoughts. It was just that for all the Marks¡¯ beauty, they still had an alien quality to them. If they could grow and change based on my thoughts and feelings, did that make them alive? How much power did I have over them, and more importantly, they, over me?

    ¡°So, you are saying that our thoughts, whether conscious or subconscious, will affect my Marks and thereby the essence enchantment.¡± She nodded. ¡°Then, do you see vastly different effects or flexibility from essence enchantments from people with the same class but from completely different cultures?¡±

    She gave me a long look, studying me, before she motioned me to continue. ¡°Finish that thought.¡±

    ¡°Our peers shape our beliefs. Going back to your [Warrior] versus [Spearman] example. A society may have a broader view of what constitutes a [Warrior] than another. In one, a [Warrior] can use a spear, but in another, that same ¡®[Warrior]¡¯ would be a [Spearman]. I would then assume an essence enchantment from a warrior in the more flexible society would be able to grow if used by other [Warriors] in that society and, if that same [Warrior] focused on spears, perhaps even by a [Spearman] in more rigid culture as well as the more flexible one.

    ¡°I would also posit that while I would find it hard to argue that a noble wouldn¡¯t wear a peasant¡¯s garb, the quality of clothes a wealthy merchant might wear in one place could rival a noble¡¯s in another. Even if it was merchant garb in one place, nobles in the other may deem it acceptable and thereby be in tune with it enough for it to grow with them. If they shared a similar class¡­¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Dorian, if you only had half this Human¡¯s intelligence.¡±

    He harrumphed. ¡°I make up for it in looks and charm.¡±

    Kyria Rhaptis just shook her head. ¡°And, young Human, it is a yes to both of your guesses. While rare, I have heard of cases in which an essence enchantment can be used by another person with a completely different class. It is just rare because people with the most basic of classes don¡¯t tend to have the resources to get these enchantments in the first place. They are never as powerful, and often, the skills are not as on point. However, they can grow, which is the most important part.

    ¡°I will also say that many urge caution when using another¡¯s essence enchantments. There is a strong belief, which I give credence to, that says essence enchantments can shape you in the same way you can shape them. Again, the accounts are mostly secondhand, but I have heard of people using other¡¯s equipment, which causes them to get skills more inclined to the creator than the user. This effect can wane over time, but it may never go away, especially if the originator¡¯s Potentials dominate the user¡¯s. However, none of that will be an issue for you. So count yourself very lucky.¡±

    She waved her hand over the pile of clothes. ¡°Now, based on this¡­interesting design, I am betting some of these are uniquely related to your class.¡±

    My original clothes had all seen better days, especially my white coat. Beaten up, covered in dust, and a pocket torn, it had borne the brunt of my brutal journey so far. I pointed to it. ¡°That is a white coat. It is one of the hallmarks of my pro¡ªclass. Most of us wore these blue shirts and pants while we were on call¡ªan extended work shift, but they are traditionally worn by surgeons. Which is a class that doesn¡¯t translate.¡± Kyria Rhaptis raised a brow, but I didn¡¯t want to try to explain surgery again. ¡°Historically, they were separate from my classes, but now we start at the same place and branch, or rather evolve, into different classes through years of training.¡±

    Both Kyria Rhaptis gave Dorian a long look, but he maintained a neutral face. What had I said? Had I given something away?

    ¡°Then the white coat should work. And the¡­¡±

    ¡°Scrubs.¡± I cocked my head and tried again. ¡±Scrubs?¡±

    Her hands shot out to grab my scrubs. ¡°You use the clothes to clean things?¡±

    ¡°Not scrubs, but scrubs.¡± I sighed. Lost in translation. ¡°They are only worn in this room that is kept extremely clean. We ¡®scrub¡¯ in. Part of that is scrubbing our hands extremely well and putting on a set of clothes,¡± I gestured to my scrubs, ¡°only worn inside that room.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s up with you and washing your hands?¡± Dorian asked.

    ¡°Contamination,¡± Kyria Rhaptis answered for me. Her lips twitched with mild irritation at my surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t look so surprised, young man. I may not be an [Alchemist], but I have had my fair share of failed work because I fouled my reagents. I am sure it is something similar for you. Back to these¡­scrubs. They might work depending on how you view them. The underclothes are less useful. I could easily make you something similar with [Self-Cleaning], [Self-Mending], and even variation of [Warmth] enhancements with far less valuable materials.¡±

    ¡°Am I hearing the beginnings of a deal?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Perhaps. I will offer you essence enchantment on your white coat and scrubs as well as a set of undergarments that will keep you comfortable inside the mines if you let me have the rest of your clothes. Normally, I would insist that you let me be the one to do the enchantments, but¡­¡± she had no competition here.

    Hard to turn down that deal. It felt quite generous, and Dorian had not given any indication of disapproval. At face value, it appeared a win-win. I could press for more, but I needed allies. She struck me as a person who could be discrete.

 32. Revelations and Negotiations - III

    I should just say yes, but I was the only other Human here. ¡°Is this still a fair deal?¡° Her face darkened with annoyance, and I hurried to explain. ¡°I know enchanting my clothes will likely help you level, but will you find someone else who will fit into my clothes?¡±

    ¡°And here I thought we were having a cut-throat negotiation. It is so sweet of you to be concerned, but the deal is fair. Yes, these clothes won¡¯t fit anyone here, but that doesn¡¯t matter. The value comes from the materials, not the finished product¡ªthe current one that is. I will just harvest the thread from them and use it to make something far more useful. It may take some time, but it will be worth it.¡±

    My eyes flipped between her and my clothes. That would be perfect. As long as she kept quiet, no trace of this ¡°unique¡± fabric would lead back to me. But could she even manage that?

    Then Dorian clapped me on the shoulder and added, ¡°Don¡¯t you worry. They don¡¯t call her Stoneweaver for nothing.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Like manipulating stone is a testament of skill.¡±

    A vivid recollection of that eerie green light and unnatural heat flashed in my mind. Dorian was either a fool or very connected to risk pissing off this woman.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. But the point is that if you can weave earth, unthreading a fabric should be child¡¯s play.¡±

    ¡°I always warn you about underestimating things. Don¡¯t diminish the difficulty of this task. I only earned the requisite skill after quite a few levels, and this thread is quite fine. ¡±

    The way she said it made my heart race. For the first time in days, the lack of the familiar weight on my left wrist was reassuring. These enchantments better be worth it because, without a doubt, I had given away something by showing her my clothes.

    ¡°So, will my white coat and scrubs also get the cleaning and mending enchantments?¡± I asked, trying to get the conversation off my past.

    ¡°How important is ¡®hygiene¡¯ to your class?¡±

    ¡°Some would consider it one of the pillars.¡±

    ¡°Then I can overlay them without too much disruption, though they may take the place of other enhancements that develop.¡±

    That gave me pause. Dorian had implied early skills could be foundational. ¡°Do the enchantments evolve too?¡±

    Kyria Rhaptis gave me a knowing smile. ¡°Now you are finally grasping the possible power of an essence enchantment. These items will need priming before they can take an enchantment. You will have a day to decide. Still, it would be helpful to have a sample of your blood and Mark now.¡°

    ¡°Okay. How do¡ª¡°

    Kyria Rhaptis stretched a hand backward, and a dark object zipped from a table in the back into her hand. She pointed her arm in another direction, and a cup flew through the air into her other hand.

    ¡°Show off,¡± muttered Dorian.

    ¡°Efficiency,¡± Kyria Rhaptis corrected. She raised the first item, a wooden knife. ¡°To answer your questions, we just need to make a few cuts.¡±

    A few cuts? How did we go from negotiations to this?

    She waved me over, not noticing¡ªor not caring¡ªabout my discomfort. I swallowed, mouth dry, unsure which was more concerning: the blatant telekinesis or the possible minor surgery without anesthetic. The blood draw¡ªor rather, bloodletting¡ªseemed reasonable with a healing potion on hand.

    ¡°What are you dawdling for? This will be quick. A quick slash on the wrist is all you need. I will even let you use my healing potion.¡±

    I presented my wrist to her. She grabbed my wrist, and she lifted a dark, ebony blade. Like a metal knife, the blade tapered into a fine point, but the wooden one had numerous patterns etched along the blade and hilt. When they caught the light, they shimmered with an iridescent purple and green. My skin tingled as a familiar red coated the edge. However, the runes took on a vibrant violet.

    She moved the blade across my wrist. I waited for the fiery aftermath, but the only thing that came was a line of red. Dark, venous blood oozed up from the cut, spilling onto my wrist, which she turned over to let drip into the cup.

    Where was the pain? I wiggled my fingers just to be sure. It stretched the skin at my wrist, eliciting a bit of welcomed discomfort deep within. It hadn¡¯t cut the nerves. It had just deadened the sensation. A knife with built-in anesthesia.

    ¡°Fascinating.¡± And strange. They had this but not the concept of surgery?

    She scoffed. ¡°Were you expecting that to hurt? We aren¡¯t barbarians.¡± I just nodded. ¡°There are limits. I can¡¯t promise taking a bit of your Mark will be painless.¡±

    ¡°How long does it last?¡°

    ¡°No more than a few minutes. You can reapply it with diminishing returns. To maintain it, you need a [Healer], but it suffices for my purposes.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Is a knife like that expensive?¡±

    ¡°These runes are, though that is likely artificial. The method and materials needed to inlay these runes are guarded by [Healers]. I only have one because of a favor. I am not sure about the knives themselves, but Dorian would likely know better.¡±

    ¡°They can vary. However,¡± Dorian nodded to the knife on the table, ¡°that is darkwood. It channels exceptionally well. In fact, darkwood is a complete waste for her purposes, especially since I doubt you use that knife more than once or twice a month.¡±

    ¡°Try once or twice a year.¡±

    ¡°Darkwood takes runes well, meaning they need far less focus and Energy to activate the runes. This matters the most if you are using the blade frequently or if you need to power a high-tier enchantment. The efficiency reduces fatigue with repeated use and reduces the Energy needed to power an enchantment. Neither situation applies to her. She won¡¯t be using it enough to notice a drain from a less efficient material, and this enchantment doesn¡¯t look complex. I bet that she could power up ten of these blades at the same time without any difficulty. So, there would be no issues replicating this blade with any grade of heartwood or even sapwood. Hence, whoever gifted you this blade did it as a sign of gratitude or a joke.¡±

    Kyria Rhaptis snorted. ¡°Probably both.¡±

    I leaned in to get a better look at the knife. ¡°Is inlaying a rune hard?¡± Its runes also had fractal patterns, but they were large and without significant detail.

    ¡°Like everything, it depends. With some training, the basic ones aren¡¯t.¡±

    I shook my head. It was bad enough that life-saving drugs cost a small fortune at home. I could understand some of it¡ªprices often scaled with the degree of purification required, and the complexity of the biologicals was at least an order of magnitude greater than small molecules compounds. Add in drug companies needing to make a profit to fund research¡­ But how much profit was enough?

    There was a line and many of them crossed it even if you excluded the most egregious examples such as consolidating the supply of generic drugs and then charging exorbitant prices. Yet this place found a way to make those unscrupulous acts seem benign. Except, maybe they hadn¡¯t.

    I had to stop applying my biases to this world. How often did [Healers] resort to surgery? It couldn¡¯t be much if ¡°surgery¡± didn¡¯t even translate. Was this smothering a competing profession in its infancy or just ignorance of what a knife able to cut without causing pain could do? Either way, I could use a set and the plethora of options they would provide.

    ¡°If I ever wanted a knife like this, do you think I could make one?¡±

    Dorian nodded. ¡°Most likely. Honing a blade is easy, and this rune isn¡¯t too complicated. As long as the knife didn¡¯t need special priming, it shouldn¡¯t take much work to inlay the rune. However, runes often come down to the materials. Some ingredients for the runes are finicky to work with. I would have to ask around to get more info. Assuming they are not,¡± he shrugged, ¡°you probably could make a passable copy.¡±

    One more thing for later.

    Kyria Rhaptis turned my wrist over. ¡°I think you are done.¡±

    As promised, she pulled out a potion from a waist pouch and popped off its top. She went to pour.

    ¡°Could I?¡±

    She stopped, and I took a small dab.

    ¡°Is that enough?¡±

    ¡°I have a skill,¡± and given the size of the wound, even the drop on my finger would be overkill. I ran my finger along the wound, the potion mixing with the blood. The wound healed up quickly and without a mark.

    ¡°So you do. Impressive.¡± She handed me my scrub top. ¡°Use this to clean up the blood. This piece will require the least conditioning, and waste not want not.¡±

    When I moved my wrist to wipe off what remained, the sizable amount of my blood that had collected in the small bowl became apparent. At least a pint.

    ¡°Do healing potions regenerate blood as well as tissue?¡± At their blank looks, I added, ¡°Does consuming a healing potion let someone donate more blood?¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t something I have tried. I don¡¯t make a habit of this. Most of my enchantments do not require quite this much blood,¡± the older woman responded.

    I wasn¡¯t lightheaded now, but I could probably test it unofficially with a bit of exercise.

    She moved the bowl to another table. Then she placed her hand on the wood. A complex pattern of vivid blues and green burst to life on the surface. They faded over seconds, leaving only a small circle blazing with iridescent light.

    She returned to the table, leaving the bowl uncovered. ¡°That settles that. Now let¡¯s get a piece of your Mark.¡± She motioned to a chair, an offer I promptly accepted. With the quality of her needlework, she may have hands fit for surgery, but this still was my face we were talking about.

    ¡°How do you want me to position my head?¡±

    ¡°Your head? You don¡¯t have another location? Have you not hit even your first threshold?¡±

    Dorian answered for me, ¡°No. He is still working his way to level 5.¡±

    ¡°I knew that you were low when you visited, but this is unconscionable.¡± Abruptly, she spun to face Dorian. ¡°They sent him to the mines at his level?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. He had Aether toxicity the first day. He is tolerating it better now.¡±

    ¡°Life debts,¡± she sneered. ¡°I will make sure to bill the lower-level enchantments to the Alfa.¡± She turned back to me. ¡°This does complicate things a little. I could harvest it now, but that might leave a scar and, more importantly, impede your growth. But don¡¯t worry, we can work around it. You will just need to visit a [Healer] for a salve.¡± She tapped her lip with a finger. ¡°It will likely need to be one of the ?ttarsk [Healers]. Their skill with this thing far outstrips your other options.¡± She pulled out a small wooden chit from her belt pouch. It flared with light before fading back to its warm mahogany. She handed it to me.

    The wood appeared insignificant. The small rectangular piece was smooth, showing a fine grain and otherwise indistinct save a symbol carved into the surface and a small hole on one side that presumably allowed it to be threaded for safer keeping. Of course, that belied the truth. Held between my fingers, I could detect a faint but characteristic tingle emanating from the chit.

    ¡°I assume this will act as some type of payment if I take this to either the V¨ªsir or Es¡ªher apprentice.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow at the slip of my tongue but ultimately only nodded in response. ¡°It will be too late tonight, but go there first thing and apply the salve. Return here the following evening, and we will finish up here.¡± Then, as if realizing just how long we had spent here, she added, ¡°Now shoo. You have interrupted my evening¡¯s work enough.¡±

    Dorian snorted. ¡°Let¡¯s leave the master to her work.¡±

    It earned him another glare. I chose a safer tact. ¡°Thank you again. I will do as instructed.¡±

    ¡°See that you do.¡±

    And with that, I made my exit.

 33. The Fel Wind - I

    Rather, I tried to make an exit.  However, as soon as I unlatched the door, it swung open.  My face had done little to slow down whatever force had propelled the door, and I stumbled backward.  It continued to swing on its wood hinges, slamming into the wall with a bang. A howl filled the room, and a dark cloud carried by a fierce wind followed on its heels.  Dust devils formed along the edges of the doorway, ready to advance on the pristine cloth.

    Dorian moved before I arrested my backward momentum.  He raced forward as if the wind was nothing, grabbing the rebounding door and slamming it shut.  The whirling dust fell from the air like rain, leaving perfect concentric circles still whirling on the floor.

    Kyria Rhaptis tsk-tsked.  Dorian flipped the door¡¯s latch closed and spun, snapping, ¡°Did you put a sound suppression enchant on the place on here?¡±

    ¡±What? It¡¯s noisy.¡±

    ¡±It¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    ¡°For whom?¡±

    He glared but didn¡¯t correct her.  Again, just how powerful was this lady?

    ¡°What was that?¡±  I grimaced, regretting my question immediately.  A throb had spread from the bridge of my nose, and a warm sensation rolled down the surfaces of my nasal passages.  I squeezed my nostrils thigh and sniffed until only the ache remained.  I examined my hands.  No blood.  Then, I gave my nose a slight tweak. It throbbed, but that was it.  Not broken.

    ¡°That was the Fel Wind.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t give it a label,¡± Kyria Rhaptis corrected without looking up from the work she had just started.  ¡°There is nothing demonic about it.  It is just a windstorm.¡±

    ¡°Tell that to the guards tomorrow,¡± Dorian muttered.

    ¡°Should we wait?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No.  Because someone used an enchantment that clearly goes against protocol, we don¡¯t know when it started.  It could easily go on for another hour, and I doubt our host will be okay with entertaining us that long.¡±

    ¡°People do interfere with my work.  I am now even more behind now that I will have to add cleaning to my list of nightly tasks.¡±

    They are worse than an old married couple.

    With the back of my hand, I flicked the mixture of brown and yellow off of my sleeve.  It fell in a smooth arc, making a pile to add to her chores.  She glared at me, but I still asked, ¡°Do any of you have any spare cloth we can use as a mask?¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t need it.¡±

    ¡°I am pretty sure breathing that won¡¯t be good for us.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right. I can take care of it with [Dust Suppression]. Also, using any of the cloth here would be like wiping your ass with spider silk.¡±  I frowned at Dorian¡¯s comparison, trying not to remember what options I had available to me in that department.

    Dorian stepped up to the door and put his hand on the latch.  There was not a hint of sound beyond the door.

    ¡°Do you think it is still going on?¡°

    ¡°Definitely.  Now get ready.  The wind will still have a fierce kick even with my skill.¡±

    ¡°Have fun, boys.  I will see you both tomorrow.  Now get out of here so that I can work!¡±

    Over his shoulder, Dorian gave Kyria Rhaptis a fitting goodbye, to which she just cackled.  He braced and pulled the latch. As he let the door open, the wind howled as it ripped through the growing gap.  Dust tried to come in, but anything that crossed the door¡¯s threshold fell to the floor in the small space between the door frame and the door¡¯s edge.

    Outside, the camp had become obscured by a wall of dust. Then, that wall of dust bowed.  It started as a small indention at first, but as red flared along Dorian¡¯s back, the radius expanded.  Flexing his skill, he split the wind from its contents as if applying a perfect filter.

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t need those enchantments, I would leave this door open just to spite her,¡± Dorian grumbled.

    Now wasn¡¯t the time for a lecture on the value of respect.  I slid past, bracing for strong gusts.  With a quick tug, Dorian closed the door.  He held it until a quiet thud sounded.  Then we walked into the storm.

    I had expected to be buffeted, but even as the wind howled, the intensity was markedly diminished as if the friction against the falling dust slowed down the wind. I still missed a step a few times, but only because I struggled to tear my eyes away from the phenomenon occurring around us.

    His skill was clearly in play, but its effects went against my expectations.  The grains of dirt and debris did not just fall straight down.  They streaked in a downward arc, keeping some of their forward momentum while being acted on by a new force¡ªwhether gravity or another method of attraction¡ªthat drove them into the ground at an accelerated pace.

    The skill also left a telltale mark on each particle.  I had not noticed it in the mines, but Dorian¡¯s skill imparted a subtle halo to a dust particle. With the particulate density here, the halos combined to create a glowing waterfall of sand and dirt that sprung from the middle of the air and ended where motes hit the ground.  The glow died the instant the dirt contacted the earth, but his power left a legacy.  On the windward side, a small pile of dirt in the shape of half a crescent began to form¡­and quickly grow in height quickly.

    ¡°Dorian, you going to be okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± though the strain in his voice belied his reassurance.  ¡°This is a bad one, but I can make it to your longhouse.  It is easier now that I have calibrated the flow; maintenance is far less taxing than initiation. The guards will have their work cut out for them tomorrow.  Now let¡¯s go.¡±

    He didn¡¯t elaborate, and I didn¡¯t ask as I followed him into the howling dust storm.  This was not the time for conversation.  The wind, though lessened by his skill, still produced bursts at gale-force strength.  I stumbled more than once from gusts¡¯ impacts, but even when I wasn¡¯t fighting the wind, I still found myself struggling more than I had expected.  Our short hike was hard work, but it was nothing compared to mining.  Yet, my muscles responded more slowly and burned with each step.  I was sucking down air when I shouldn¡¯t have.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    This wasn¡¯t concrete evidence¡ªno N-of-1 study backed subjective data could be¡ªbut our walk raised serious doubts about a healing potion¡¯s ability to correct blood loss, at least in the short term. Maybe they enhanced red blood cell production, but if they did, that effect took time to kick in.  It sounded like a devastating negative, but if potions healed instantly, blood loss should be minimal.  Amazing and annoying. But it did suggest limits, which left me with mixed emotions.  Did that mean [Healers] have the same limitations?  Would this be one more way for the world to spite my class choice?

    My mind started to devise all sorts of ways to test it¡ªuntil I tripped and stumbled into Dorian.   A spray of sand and dirt scoured my face before it stopped half a second later.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I got out between coughs.   He only grunted in response.

    Focus.  This is not the time to get lost in thoughts.  Though it had been quite helpful in the labs when teasing apart problems with experiments, it had morphed into a bad habit when socializing. Apparently, it was an even worse habit walking through hurricane-force winds.

    We eventually made it to my house, the return lasting three times longer than our walk to the [Tailor]¡¯s.  The doorway was on the leeward side of the wind, so I pulled it open without issue.  I waved Dorian inside, and he went straight to the chair he had last occupied.

    I pulled and barred the door shut before following his lead.  The room had never been so inviting. It had even retained more heat than I would have anticipated by its construction.  I settled into the chair I had occupied before our unexpected departure.  Our bottle of ale sat unfinished.

    I raised the bottle towards him.  ¡°More?¡±  He held out his mug, and I filled it to the top.  I eyed the door.  ¡°How much longer will that last?¡¯

    ¡°Hard to know.  Typically, it would be over already, but this is a bad one.  It also looks like we might have caught it right at the onset.  Normally, the storms make themselves known, but if you can¡¯t hear what¡¯s happening outside¡­¡±  He finished with a shrug.

    ¡°I take it her little house isn¡¯t like the others.¡±

    ¡°It started out like the others, but she has upgraded it a bit more.  She has clearly skirted the rules on a few of her improvements.¡±

    ¡°She as powerful as she suggested?¡±

    ¡°That and then some.  She was already a legend before she merged two or, depending on who you talk to, three of her classes.¡±  He took a sip and eyed my empty mug.  ¡°Be sure to talk to me when you hit level 10.  I might not know about your class, but it is always helpful to talk it out.¡±

    ¡°I will do that.¡±  I poured myself some ale, finishing the bottle.  I had no worries about it lasting.  With my tolerance, I would have ¡±savor¡± it.

    ¡°Power is always hard to quantify, but I would strongly recommend not getting on her bad side.¡±

    ¡°But you¡ª¡°

    ¡°My circumstances are¡­special.  I get away with more than most.¡±  He took another heavy drag.  ¡°You did well tonight.  I think she likes you.¡±

    ¡°Well, a positive first impression would be a first for this place.¡±

    ¡°Ahem.¡±

    ¡°Fine. A second, but that is still depressing.¡±

    ¡°You are Human.¡±

    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t matter.¡±

    The look I received was akin to ¡°where are you from?¡± It promptly disappeared behind a mug of beer.  He recovered quickly.  ¡°I wish it wasn¡¯t, but I have never seen it another way, at least not between Humans and ?ttir and Volki.¡±

    ¡°It has been a bit of an adjustment.¡±  The panel sealing the window rattled with a fierce gust.  ¡°You are more than welcome to stay here if you need to. I have more than a few beds available.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, mine was that one over there.¡±

    ¡°Right.  Sorry.¡± He tried to hide it, but the hurt was plain as day on his face.  The set of drawers next to the bed that he had pointed at had been the only ones without clothes in it.  I hadn¡¯t given it much thought at the time, but in hindsight¡­  Looks like he wouldn¡¯t be the only one putting a foot in a mouth.  I took my turn at hiding my shame with a long sip.  ¡°The offer still stands if it isn¡¯t too painful or won¡¯t cause you grief from associating with a Human.¡±  I tried not to spit out the last words and failed.

    He sighed.  ¡°You weren¡¯t dealt an easy hand here.  It won¡¯t be a problem for me to stay here, and I may take you up on it if this wind doesn¡¯t die down.¡± The wind wailed as if to protest that thought.

    ¡°What did you mean by it being bad tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Beast and monster attacks.  They will try to breach the walls.  Even monsters have some sense of self-preservation, but after the storm, they act as if rabid.  Speaking of which, if I do leave, you shouldn¡¯t open the door until I come get you the next morning.  I don¡¯t care the reason.  Just wait.¡±

    I gave him a questioning look.  ¡°What if someone needs help?

    ¡±You will be a liability.  Sorry, but it is true. You can help, but only if you are protected.  There will be far more monster activity tomorrow, and it will start even before the wind dies down.  We are lucky.  We can ride this out in our rooms.  I can¡¯t say that for the guards manning the walls right now.  They will try their best, but if something is going to slip by them, it will be tonight.¡±

    ¡°And that would be bad?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, especially for you.¡±

    I took another sip, the powerful brew already having an effect despite my limited intake.  ¡°I can do that, though I am running low on water.  I have enough water for the night, but it will be tight.  Can you show me where to get some tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yeah. I forgot about that.  They had set up the bathrooms nicely, but they hadn¡¯t set up a cistern.  No mage.¡± I nodded as if that made sense.  Probably some magic that let them pull water up from the earth or some B.S. like that.  ¡°There are a few wells.  We can go early, but you will probably need to draw it in the afternoon if you want to see the V¨ªsir before the shift starts.¡±

    ¡°I think she hates me.¡±

    ¡°You think?  She most definitely does.¡±

    ¡°You are supposed to disagree with me.¡± I thrust my cup toward in mock anger and proceeded to slosh a bit of ale over the rim. ¡°Crap.¡±  He tsk-tsked me, and my face grew hot.  ¡°I can¡¯t be getting drunk already?¡±

    ¡°Looks like it.¡± He took my mug from my hands.  ¡°More for me.¡±

    I didn¡¯t fight him.  Any more, and the room might start spinning.  I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I had gotten this buzzed.  ¡°In my defense, I am pretty sure that healing potions did not correct blood loss.¡±

    ¡°Whatever makes you feel better.  Though, I think you are right about the blood loss from some of the stories I¡¯ve heard.¡± He downed the rest of the mug before pounding it on the table.  ¡°Ah, that was good stuff.  With that, I think I am good to go.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±  In response, he raised a finger to his ear.  Only then did I notice the silence outside.  ¡°It¡¯s done?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  Comes quick and then stops just as fast.  Almost unnatural.¡± He eyed the issued metal blade that remained untouched in its scabbard on the chest of drawers before pointing at the wooden cheese knife. ¡°Can I borrow that?¡±

    The cheese knife was half the knife¡¯s length, but it was wood.  Now the Quartermaster¡¯s comment about upgrading made sense.  ¡°Sure. It is yours after all¡­¡±

    He picked it up by the wooden blade.  ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t like leaving you unarmed.  Still, it¡¯s best not to go out completely unprepared.  And you shouldn¡¯t need it since you won¡¯t be leaving this place unaccompanied.¡±  He eyed me, waiting for a response.

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±  Even if I was at an appropriate level, I was not nearly sober enough to be facing danger.

    ¡°Good.¡±  He grabbed his things head for the door.

    I waved.  ¡°See ya.¡±  However, he didn¡¯t leave.  I belatedly realized what he wanted.  These doors didn¡¯t lock automatically.  I stood up and almost face-planted as the world rotated.  I caught myself.  Dorian had the decency not to laugh too hard.  ¡°Okay, bye now for reals.¡±

    He let out another quiet laugh as he exited.  True to his words, the wind had died down.  The air had an almost impossible stillness.  Eerie.

    I slid the bar shut after he walked out and leaned back against the board, eyeing my bed.  The lumpy straw mattress and woolen blanket had never looked so inviting.  Its draw rivaled that of my bed the morning after a thirty-hour call night.  I didn¡¯t even get my clothes off before the sleep overtook me.

    <hr>

 34. The Fel Wind - II

    I was awake before Dorian knocked on the door. I never slept well when I drank, and last night was no different. Frequent arousals had plagued my sleep, and each time, I had awoken with a characteristic dry mouth and mild throbbing in my head, hinting at something more. It was the price I paid for indulgence, though I had managed to wake up not a complete wreck the following morning. On the third excursion of staggering to the bathroom that night, I had exhausted what I had left of my water. Still, while Dorian¡¯s pounding on my door didn¡¯t cause my head to pulse, an unpleasant ache had taken residence inside my skull.

    ¡°Rough night?¡± Dorian grinned when I opened the door.

    ¡°Harsh.¡± I was dressed, ready to go, and had opened the door before he had called my name a second time. ¡°Honestly, I thought it would¡¯ve been worse. If that ale¡¯s quality had been lower, I am sure it would have.¡±

    ¡°You do look better than I would¡¯ve guessed.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t that bad.¡±

    "Sure.¡± Then he pulled something from his pack. ¡°Then you don¡¯t want this.¡±

    ¡°Gimme.¡± He laughed as he tossed me a waterskin. ¡°Oh, god, thank you." I unscrewed the cap and gulped down the cool, refreshing water.

    ¡°As I was saying, I¡¯ve seen Oresian children hold their ale better than you.¡±

    "I tell you, it was from the blood loss."

    He laughed. ¡°I am sure we will have another opportunity to find out, but I think honey wine may be more your speed.¡±

    I would argue, but he was probably right. Instead, I chose to smile and appreciate the offer of another night of drinks together. I was a stranger in a strange land, but I could now say that I was making a new friend. I smiled. ¡°Having another option might not be a bad idea.¡±

    He laughed even more but then waved me to follow. I shut the door and jogged to catch up. ¡°Let me show you the well. It isn¡¯t that far away, but it will be a trek with full buckets. I doubt you will have time to fill a pair this morning if you are going to the [Healers].¡±

    ¡°I am completely out.¡±

    ¡°I can get some water and supplies while you head up to that way.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Dorian.¡±

    We swung around the edge of the longhouses to a well-worn path that headed to the left of the mine¡¯s opening. The path looked to disappear in the dark rock of the cliff wall; however, we passed more than a few ?ttir and Volki walking back with pails of water. As we neared the cliff face, the cause of the path¡¯s disappearance became apparent: an optical illusion. As with the mine¡¯s entrance, the cliff wall hid another alcove. People with empty buckets were lined up before a large stone circle.

    ¡°Is there a different well for Oresiani?¡± They had been conspicuously absent so far.

    ¡±No. We sank our own wells.¡±

    ¡°Was that hard?¡±

    ¡°Not when you have our favorite [Tailor] with you, but even without her, we have other [Mages] who could have done it.¡±

    ¡°And the other groups don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°In a way. It wasn¡¯t deemed a worthwhile use of their time, not when those same [Mages] could be used for mining.¡±

    ¡°So none of the ?ttir or Volki have running water in their homes?¡± He answered my question with a shake of his head. ¡°Not even the Alfa?¡±

    ¡°He and his soldiers had a setup fit for his and their station.¡± He spoke in a manner far too formal.

    ¡°That¡ª¡± my voice faltered as I caught sight of almost every Volki in line having turned their heads our way. We hadn¡¯t even spoken that loudly. ¡°Seems very fitting.¡±

    Most turned their heads back to the well, though a few lingered on us. Dorian didn¡¯t head closer. ¡°When you come for water, you¡¯ll need to wait your turn. The water is clean, though most of the pails used here have an enchant to help ensure that as well."

    I hadn¡¯t spent much time examining the pails in the longhouse, but I had noticed the markings on them that I had come to equate with enhancements.

    ¡°So I just bring a few of the pails from the longhouse here when I draw the water?"

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He turned back, and I followed. Something itched on the back of my neck, and I looked backward before passing behind the cliff wall hiding the alcove. At least two Volki had continued to watch us as had left. Their gaze never wavered, their yellow eyes tracking me until I passed behind the ridge of the cliff face and out of sight.

    ***

    Dorian and I parted not far from the fork leading back toward my home and the entrance to the mine. However, before he did, he pointed to a cluster of buildings that I had not yet visited. It was another cluster of buildings on a small hill closer to the gate. "Don''t go that direction. You will not be welcomed. The Volki have a hierarchy and a very liberal policy about how they can teach it to other people ¡±

    ¡°Because I am Human?¡±

    ¡°If only. They have an inborn need to prove dominance. Even we give them room out of ¡®respect.¡¯ Honestly, it is easier than having to fight. It is tolerable here because the Alfa has set down expectations. Still, at the end of the day, only the Alfa¡¯s will and those who enforce it keep this place from devolving into chaos. If we could have found a different guard force, I would have preferred it, but the risk is too high for most mercenary companies.¡± He sighed. ¡°Not that it matters. Though I am loath to admit it, no company has the Alfa¡¯s strength. Given what we have faced here, this encampment would be crawling with monsters with anything less than the power the Alfa and his troops can bring to bear. It is fair to say that this expedition not only exists but also only survives because of them.¡±

    ¡°Another necessary evil.¡±

    ¡°You know my opinions on that. But now that we are out here¡­¡± he shrugged, ¡°it¡¯s best to let them do their job.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Speaking of that, was last night bad?¡± For all the concern he expressed last night, he had made no show of it this morning.

    ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse.¡± He stared off towards the walls. ¡°Much worse.¡± He shook away whatever he was thinking before reminding me, ¡°You better hurry and see the V¨ªsir. I will take care of the supplies for the day.¡±

    <hr>

    The walk to the healer¡¯s lodge afforded me a chance to examine the Alfa¡¯s and his soldiers¡¯ quarters¡ªat least from a distance. The location made sense. They were nearly equidistance from both sides of the wall. Getting water would be a pain, but of course, they didn¡¯t need it. While the homes had the same barracks-style layout as the general quarters housing most of the ?ttir and the rest of the Volki, the size of the soldiers¡¯ homes exceeded the others despite needing to house fewer people. Even from this distance, I could make a good guess on which house was the Alfa¡¯s. Only one two-story house stood inside that cluster. It also happened to sit right in the center.

    I shook my head at the typical trappings of power. Wasting space to prove that he could, just like that table in the Commons.

    When I arrived at the healer¡¯s lodge, the door was closed, but muffled voices still slipped past the door. I knocked, and the voices stopped. A small thump announced the removal of the bar, locking the door. I continued to wait as the door creaked open, revealing only the V¨ªsir, who promptly gave me a severe scowl.

    ¡°Do you not learn? I sense no illness or injury about you. Go before I decide that I do have time to teach you a lesson.¡±

    The door was open enough that I could see most of the room. Despite the chatter that I had heard, I did not see anyone else in the poorly lit room. I either had misheard or whomever she had been talking to had stepped into the other room. As much as I wanted to know, my curiosity wasn¡¯t something the V¨ªsir would indulge.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to get a salve recommended by Kyria Rhaptis.¡±

    I fished out the wooden chip and held it before her, barely hiding my smile at her look of surprise.

    ¡°How?¡± Her familiar scowl found a new level, eyes narrowing so much that it seemed impossible that she could still see me. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. What do you need it for?¡±

    ¡°A biops¡ª¡± I cut the word off as soon as the familiar twist took over my tongue. Another word lost in translation. At least I could use it to break my bad habit of always using medical jargon. ¡°She needs a piece of my Mark, but she said it was too immature.¡±

    She barely glanced at my Mark. ¡°Of course, it is. At least, she had the good sense to come to me rather than those Oresiani playing at being a [Healer].¡±

    The sheer arrogance contained in her words exceeded anything I had heard before, and I had worked with a lot of neurosurgeons. Still, I plastered on my most obsequious smile. ¡°Can you do it this morning? She needed my Mark ready by tonight.¡±

    As if it pained her to agree, ¡°Yes, though I don¡¯t know what you did to get her help. Wait here.¡±

    She shut the door in my face, leaving me staring at the wooden planks and shivering in the crisp morning air when a small breeze swept past. The top of the ridge shone with the light of the sun, but it would be some time before this hut escaped the ridge¡¯s long shadow.

    Time ticked by, and I checked my wrist out of reflex, even though my watch remained tucked away in a drawer in my longhouse. She had to be making me wait on purpose, but even so, I could do nothing but stand here shivering. I tried to distract myself by watching people stream into the mine. In different circumstances, the clusters of log cabins backed by towering trees wreathed in greens and purples would have a rustic charm. Of course, forced labor diminished a place¡¯s wonder. Boredom, impatience, and a thick layer of dirt were nails in the coffin.

    I traced a finger along the wall. The wood was coarse, but my swipe left a fine sheen of yellowish dirt on my finger. I brought it to my nose but then thought better of it. This particulate matter wasn¡¯t dirt, or if it was, the source came from a very different type of soil than any I had seen around here. I rubbed my fingers together, studying the fine dust.

    From last night?

    It had the same yellow-green tint of pine pollen. I had never actually studied pollen before, but I had lived near a pine forest. I couldn¡¯t forget the color, not after having to wash my caked car countless times. I scanned the tree line visible from above the wall. Their shape had always suggested evergreens¡ªthough, can a tree with purple-tinged needles be an evergreen? I would go with conifers, but I would need to get closer to confirm.

    Is it even pollination season? Better question: what season is it?

    I hadn¡¯t paid attention to it earlier, but even if the cliff face blocked most of the direct sunlight, the days were long, suggesting summer¡ªlikely at a high latitude. The temperate climate went with that, though that could be from being at elevation. The list of things I needed to figure out kept growing longer.

    ¡°They may lack honor, but those fleabags know how to defend the walls.¡± I jumped at the voice coming from behind me and spun to come face-to-face with the V¨ªsir and her smug satisfaction at catching me off guard. ¡°At least, they carry their own weight, unlike some people. Now, if you are done staring at the walls, come here so that I may apply the salve.¡±

    This woman grated my last nerve, but the lines to the mine had already begun to thin. I didn¡¯t need to give the Verndari more ammunition. So instead, I turned my cheek, figuratively and literally.

    She applied a thick slave to a portion of my Mark that was above my hairline. The characteristic tingle that I was rapidly learning to associate with Energy spread through my Mark. Then it stopped as a sharp pulse ripped from my temple down to my toes.

    I winced and pulled away from her touch. ¡°What was that?¡± The pain had passed, but now only a small portion of my Mark still tingled.

    ¡°I would recommend against limiting your Energy use. Normally, it wouldn¡¯t be a problem. In fact, it would be required, but because of your exposure to the density of Aether in the mine, your Mark will convert enough Energy to provide the required growth without any intervention. I would recommend limiting Energy. Too much, and the growth might be excessive.¡±

    ¡±That would have been helpful knowledge before you applied it.¡± [Healers] here seem to have a nasty habit of not informing patients of any of the risks.

    ¡°[Archmage] Rhaptis needed it done, and that was the only way for me to guarantee that. I shall not disappoint her.¡±

    And if you left me with a hideous growth, that is just a bonus¡­

    ¡°Is it safe to touch?¡±

    She nodded, and I walked my fingers along my Mark. The skin around the part that had tingled had none of its normal feeling. It was as dead as skin after an injection of novocaine, though I couldn¡¯t make out any obvious swelling. ¡°How does this work?¡±

    She paused as if surprised by my interest. ¡°It is complicated, but if you must know, most simplistically, it accelerates the maturation of a Mark by increasing its receptivity to Energy. Foolish people use it to access skills they have not yet earned. They risk stunting their growth for quick gains. You need not worry about that. I limited its effects to a small fragment of your Mark. That part will mature out of step with the rest of the Mark. I also constrained its direction of growth to make it an ideal size for harvesting and prevent contaminating the rest of your Mark.¡±

    I took a second to process that. ¡°So, essentially, you made it so that a small part of my Mark will grow outward rapidly.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    That was frighteningly close to a tumor. I would need to keep my Energy usage to a minimum. ¡°Is there anything I need to do after she harvests my Mark?¡±

    ¡°No. She will be able to shave off growth without any damage to your Mark. A healing potion is permissible to close the wound, and if she needs a proper tool, she can come to me. Depending on why she needs the Mark, I may have a few she can borrow.¡±

    ¡°I will let her know,¡± which, of course, I wouldn¡¯t. I knew the Kyria Rhaptis had what she needed, and if I happened to leave the V¨ªsir wondering, that would be fair payment for her wonderful bedside manner. I turned to walk away but stopped. ¡°Is your apprentice available?¡± I had not imagined hearing a conversation, and that other voice had to be Esper¡¯s. ¡°I wanted to talk with her quickly.¡± It would make me late, but some things needed to be done as soon as possible.

    She stared at me far longer than when I had inquired about how the salve functioned. ¡°No,¡± and she stepped back and shut the door in my face.

    It took me a few seconds to close my jaw. That woman was a piece of work; however, I didn¡¯t have time to beat on the door and make a scene¡ªnot that it would do any good. The stream of people entering the mine had turned into a trickle. For the second time this morning, I wished I had my watch. I sighed. I would have to try speaking with Esper when I had more time.

 35. Mining Redux

    Dorian was right to hurry me.  The Verndari didn¡¯t have a clock, but he had some way to keep track of when our shift should start.  His glower deepened when I entered our section.

    ¡°Being on time makes you late, Human.¡±

    However, he didn¡¯t add anything else, and I kept my mouth shut and hurried to grab my pick and mining gear.  Unsurprisingly, my pick, with its damage at the junction, was the last one left.  I grabbed it and then headed for the tunnel that Dorian and I had started carving out.

    ¡°Where do you think you are going?¡±  The Verndari¡¯s bellow caught me off guard, and I stumbled back at the imposing green frame that appeared out of nowhere when I rounded the corner.

    ¡°I am going to help Dorian.¡±  I managed to keep the tremble out of my voice.  Anger at his look of satisfaction at my response and years of experience made that easy.  This ?ttar was nothing more than a bully.

    A mean smile spread across his dark green lips.  ¡°He isn¡¯t there.  His skills were needed by another mining group, and I decided to loan him out.¡±

    ¡°I can continue to work on the shaft.¡±

    ¡°No.  I have a better use for you.  We are opening up a small pocket.  Join the rest of the men there while I inspect what you two have done.¡±

    If he expected push-back, he didn¡¯t get it.  However, anything coming from this interaction had to be a bonus for him.  It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out he wanted a repeat of my last exposure to high-density Aether.  A new pocket in this cavern would be rich with Aether and a density high enough to induce toxicity for most at my level.

    I took it as a win when I entered the other cavern and received as many looks of surprise as scowls.  Let him deal with the strife that came with me earning my cut.  Of course, he would find that less of a challenge if I never collected.  After all, dead men struggled to collect their shares. However, the joke would be on him.  I had figured out how to manage excess Aether.  I shook my head.  His surprise at the end of the day would be cold comfort.  For the foreseeable future, a sadistic bastard who wanted me dead had me completely under his thumb.

    I walked towards one of the miners who didn¡¯t instantly seem to dislike me.  ¡°The Verndari sent me here.  Where do you want me?¡±

    ¡°You will need to ask one of the h?rlie.¡±  He motioned to a tall ?ttar overseeing a group of miners.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    I headed in the direction he pointed.  The cave¡¯s walls, once lit in the eerie blues and greens cast by the radiant gems, now blended with the shadows, their details lost.  The only light came from light stones.   In a few short days, the crew had stripped the glittering cave.  Assuming Dorian hadn¡¯t oversold the risk of explosive chain reaction, it spoke to the ?ttarsk ability to handle hard and precise work.

    I headed toward a single ?ttar who stood out among the rest.  He had a broad frame lined with lean muscles.  As I approached, I could make out strands of grey in his long, dark green hair.  His tattered tunic hid much of his Marks but not the scars lining his arms.  Even compared to many of his brethren, he sported a significant number.  A grizzled veteran.

    My footsteps on the gravel strewn across the floor from the excavation were loud enough to attract attention.  He turned to see who approached.  If he was surprised, he didn¡¯t show it. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    I halted at a respectful distance.  I paused to come up with a way to address him.  Not a single ?ttar had offered his name.  So, I went with the term the other ?ttar had used.  ¡°H?rlie, the Verndari told me to work in this part of the mining operation.  I was then told to speak with you.¡±

    He examined me for a few seconds before glancing towards the entrance, probably calculating if risking the Verndari¡¯s wrath was worth the potentially smaller cut they would receive with me being here.  I would have given it to him if I could have escaped to my tunnel.  Even if Aether toxicity wasn¡¯t an issue, dealing with them without Dorian was not worth the increased take.

    ¡°You have been cutting another tunnel with that Oresian?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°We have expanded an opening to allow better access to another part of this cavern.  One of my Skjaldveggr is working alone to extend it further.  He could use another to give him a break.¡±

    I nodded and headed in the direction he indicated.  I walked past a low overhang studded with crystals.  The Aether rolled over me, my body practically thrumming from its density.  Of course, an area with more crystal left to harvest would have higher Aether concentrations, but it still exceeded my expectations. It took me a second to gain control of the Aether¡¯s malignant effects.  The only upside was this density wouldn¡¯t last long.   The h?rlie had this place filled with as many ?ttir as possible.  They worked to remove anything valuable.  My new partner must have started expanding the cavern as soon as they had cleared a section of the wall.

    I walked down a short tunnel, and at its end, a single ?ttar toiled away at the stone.  He slammed the pickaxe into the stone with practiced ease.  He turned towards me before I was even ten feet away.  His youth caught me off guard.  Even compared to other ?ttir, he was big.  The tunnel barely had the height to allow him to stand.  However, his size belied his youth.  His face still hadn¡¯t shed the last vestiges of childhood, a stark contrast to the lean, hard look of the rest of the company.  However, he did sport quite a few scars, more than I would have expected for his age. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    A rough upbringing? Or was this within the norm for a martial culture?

    ¡°I was sent here to give you a break,¡± I said, forestalling any questions.  He only grunted, but he stepped away from the wall.  ¡°I am Daniel.¡±

    He only nodded, not providing a reciprocal greeting.  He pointed to my pickaxe.  ¡°You able to use that?¡±

    It dawned on me that most would consider it useless.  ¡°I make it work.  I am good to keep lengthening the tunnel.  I can take over if you want a break.  You want me to keep the tunnel this size?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Then he walked away to grab something to eat and drink.

    I took my wordless dismissal as permission to start.  I broke stone.  Today¡¯s work was similar to yesterday¡¯s, except that the tunnel was larger.  I had also, once again, broken a promise to myself: using raw Aether to power my blows.  The salve had done a number on my Mark.  Using it to convert Aether to Energy to empower a normal strike sent a wave of pain through my head. I could bypass that limit by drawing raw Aether through my lungs.  It took concentration to force the conversion, worsening the already low efficiency I could manage without my Mark.  However, I didn¡¯t have a choice.  I needed to make a good impression, which meant using raw Aether.  I could feel the toxicity building, but I could manage the effects¡ªat least for one day.  It was still risky, and once I could use my Mark freely, I would return to avoiding this method of generating Energy.

    However, even with all of that, I found a rhythm.  It was liberating. I was never one to meditate, but with Energy flowing through my body, I found a strange peace.

    ¡°That is dangerous, you know.¡±

    The deep voice of my partner pulled me out of my flow.   ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°Drawing on Aether like that.¡±

    A caring ?ttar?  It is a day full of surprises.

    ¡°Thanks for your concern. It should be, but I have had some experience with it now.  I have it under control,¡± but because he was right, I hurried to add, ¡°For today only, it is a necessary risk.¡±

    He eyed as if weighing the truth of that statement.  If positions were reversed, I would have done the same.  In fact, during my short career, I had questioned the veracity of many a person¡¯s statements.  People lied, especially when they needed something, even if it was to the detriment of something as important as their health.  ¡°If you say so.  I am going to get a cart.  You are making better progress than I expected.  We can switch off after I clear this load.¡±

    I went back to work.  Despite limiting my Mark¡¯s use, the environment was having an effect¡ªthe constant dull ache in my right temple was all the proof I needed.  However, I could work through it.  What other choice did I have?

    What proved harder was resisting the perverse urge to check on my Mark.  Smooth skin had turned into a slight bump.  Its growth rate was nightmare fuel.  Call it what you will, but I had a tumor developing at warp speed on my face.

    At least being stuck in a mine without any mirrors made it easier to avoid checking on its growth, not that it had any bearing on my current situation.  I was stuck here regardless of what was happening on my face.  So, with forced denial in effect, I hunkered down and focused on breaking rock.

    The only thing that interrupted my digging was an intermittent hacking cough.  The cough did highlight another major difference with working in this tunnel: dust.  My impacts were akin to detonating micro-explosive in the rock, and without Dorian¡¯s skill, my strikes created a fine cloud that lingered in the tunnel. I could have lessened them. In fact, I tried, but I only ended up with slightly less dust and a much slower pace. The tradeoff wasn¡¯t worth it.  What we needed was better ventilation.

    I took a break after a particularly long fit of coughing by the ?ttar.  ¡°Have you had the [Healers] look at that?¡±

    ¡°Look at what?¡±

    ¡°Your cough.¡±

    ¡°It is not something they would be interested in.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound good.¡±

    ¡°It is nothing.¡±

    ¡°It sure doesn¡¯t sound like nothing.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.  It isn¡¯t enough.  I would not dare tax them with something so trivial.¡±

    ¡°Do potions work?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes.¡±

    His answer was far from reassuring. ¡°Well, you at least use a rag to cover your nose and mouth when mining. This dust isn¡¯t good for your lungs.¡±

    ¡°This will clear.  It always has before.¡±

    Optimism was all well and good until it wasn¡¯t.  However, he wasn¡¯t ready to be pushed further.  I, on the other hand, needed to find a cloth in case the Verndari sent Dorian to another company tomorrow as well.

    ***

    I paused my shoveling when the ?ttar rested the head of his pickaxe on the ground.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong,¡± I asked.

    ¡°Nothing.  This is a good place to stop for the day.¡±

    ¡°You think?  We could go further.¡±

    ¡°The wall will be here tomorrow.  We¡¯ll shovel the rest of this debris and then meet up with the rest of our team. We did good work today.¡±

    We had carved out quite a distance, but nothing compared to what I did with Dorian.  Dorian and I cleared twice this distance in the same amount of time, and the difference wasn¡¯t just because of Dorian.  To my surprise, I had much more endurance with a pickaxe than the ?ttar.  He could channel far more power in a burst, but keeping that pace up drained him too fast.

    It persisted even when trading pickaxes.  Turned out, the broken pick wasn¡¯t so bad.  It was more efficient if it was connected properly.  Of course, the connection shifted with each strike. Sometimes, just a little.  Sometimes, a lot.  I could sort it out with a bit of focus.  It had become a game of sorts.  However, the ?ttar couldn¡¯t manage it.

    Did that make me special?

    Hard to know when he also couldn¡¯t even detect the most efficient paths to channel Energy through his pick.  Of course, that didn¡¯t matter when he could just slam a ton of energy through it at once.  Just like with water, apply enough pressure and it will find a way through a membrane.  Still, he did have some control.  He could focus and direct the Energy he released.  Before I took over as primary excavator, he had generated pressure waves that cracked solid rock for feet on end.  It was amazing but limited in utility, especially near a cluster of crystals.  Here, slow and steady won the race, and he just couldn¡¯t keep that up.  With his inability to find channels and lack of control, a small burst of energy generated too much ¡±friction,¡± tiring him out far quicker.

    ¡°Alright then.¡±  If he wanted to stop, I wasn¡¯t going to object too strenuously.

    A cry of alarm came from the other room. My mining partner, pick in hand, was on his way out of the tunnel before I could even take a step toward my pickaxe.   Still, I grabbed it from its resting spot against the tunnel¡¯s wall and followed him.  After all, the sound could mean only one thing: a monster attack.

 36. Hidden Threats and Their Rewards - I

    When I arrived at the cavern, the battle had already started even if it hadn¡¯t yet spilled into the main cavern. A crew must have found a sizable, new deposit in one of the two other new tunnels extending from this cavern.

    A cry for help preceded a dust-smeared ?ttar exiting the tunnel¡¯s mouth and dragging another ?ttar by his armpits. Those two weren¡¯t alone. A fight still raged down the corridor. Judging by the inhuman screams, someone was holding back monsters. Two ?ttir ran forward to grab the wounded ?ttar. They dragged him backward while calling to whomever remained. The impromptu line of green parted to allow the wounded through before snapping shut, reestablishing the wall. On this world, safety was an illusion, but as I was learning, a line of seven-foot, muscled giants wielding weapons that could cut through stone converted the illusory into a near-reality.

    Still, that was for the lowly Tier I Human hiding behind that line. Someone still had to shoulder the risk, and the consequences lay before me. The wounded ?ttar needed help. His chest wasn¡¯t moving and dark red soaked his tunic. I grabbed my belt pouch. I had one potion left. It would have to do. Except, they had already poured a potion down his throat before I had taken more than a step in his direction.

    He jerked, coughed, and then sat up as if nothing had happened, even though the lacerated tissue along his chest and torso remained open, exposing rapidly knitting muscle fibers.He must have lost a decent amount of blood before they got him the potion.If my assumption about potions were correct, it wouldn¡¯t help with blood loss, but he showed no overt signs of hypovolemia.Over the din of battle, I couldn¡¯t make out what the ?ttir said to each other, but after a brief exchange, the ?ttir who had carried him to safety grabbed him by the wrists and pulled the wounded giant to his feet.The rapidly healing man gave a nod in thanks before stretching out an open hand.Without a word, another of their number tossed him a pick.The once severely wounded ?ttar grabbed it out of the air, not showing the slightest signs of injury, before rejoining the wall of ?ttir.

    I couldn¡¯t decide if I should be infuriated or impressed. That ?ttar had rejoined the line with an astonishing number of untreated wounds. Maybe he passed them off as superficial, but something was telling me that he sported more significant injuries. Even before coming to this world, I hadn¡¯t ignored my gut instincts, and now¡­well, I would never have released a patient with wounds like his for active duty. Even adjusting to this world¡¯s standard, I would''ve held him back long enough to allow the potion to do more work. Yet, I had no power to call him back.

    ¡°Incoming. At least fifty terrorvoles.¡±

    The owner of the warning came sprinting out of the tunnel. The tall ?ttar was built like a truck. His Marks, covering his entire torso, blazed with deep crimson as he charged the line. He didn¡¯t slow. ¡°Going over,¡± he yelled before he jumped. The warning didn¡¯t matter. The ?ttir in front of the line had expected his move and ducked. The whole maneuver shouldn¡¯t have worked. The cave¡¯s height wasn¡¯t enough for him to just leap over them even with them ducking. Yet, somehow, he contorted his body to pull off a horizontal roll in midair. He cleared the line with inches to spare before he landed on his feet, facing the incoming monsters. His Mark flared again as he skidded to a stop in a crouch position. He inspected the line, eyes lingering on the same ?ttar that had my attention. He made no move to relieve him; instead, he moved to cover a gap.

    I¡¯m going to need to adjust my views on acceptable injuries. They are goddamn superheroes. How did they lose to the Volki?

    ¡°Ready,¡± yelled an ?ttar at the center. The Verndari. I had missed his arrival. Say what you will about him, but he did lead from the front.

    I should have been in the back helping the wounded. I had neither the strength nor the inclination to be on the front line. However, save for that one injury, people seemed to manage the horde with minimal need for healing support. Instead, I braced for battle as I stood behind my mining partner.

    The terrorvoles came as a long shadow devouring whatever light lit the tunnel. Their black fur melted into the blackness. Only their bright red eyes gave any indication of their number. They were frightening in my first encounter, but this cave fell more in line with their natural habitat¡ªdark, small, and cramped. Whether by intelligence or sheer numbers, they streamed from every part of the opening¡ªthe ground, the walls, and even the ceiling. Their long claws gripped the stone walls with ease and allowed them to scale the vertical edges, defying gravity. However, their wave shuddered as the cave pulsed with red light. The Verndari and the wall of ?ttir channeled Energy and released it in a deadly concert of crimson light. The lead terrorvoles fell to the ground, dead or dying, but the wave didn¡¯t slow. They crushed their dead as they continued forward to assault the line.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    My mining partner had positioned himself, and thereby me, on the edge. That location, traditionally safer, had little advantage when your enemy could run along walls. The first terrorvole that tried our defenses ended up skewered by a burning red pick. However, the terrorvoles had enough intelligence to attack those distracted. Another sprang from the wall at an opening an ?ttar made with his swing. Yet, his body and pick blurred as he spun to catch the leaping terrorvole with his backswing. The red Energy winked out as the sharp head split the dark-furred beast in two. The front half of the body fell in front of me. Not realizing that it should be dead, it twitched and dragged its body toward me. I drove my pick through it to finish the job.

    The din of battle had already begun to die. The estimate of fifty of the monsters looked short of reality, but even then, the horde had not come close to fracturing the staggered line. The wave had broken against their wall in a gory mess, leaving only the stragglers to mop up.

    I pulled my pick out of the dead beast when something rippled along the wall. I blinked, and there was nothing. Except¡­

    Something was messing with the Aether on that wall. My guts roiled, and some part of my primitive brain screamed danger. I didn¡¯t hesitate. I swung my pick at the abnormality, but fear fractured my control. My eyes went wide as I sucked in Aether. I forcibly converted it to Energy, which combined with what I had drawn from Mark. I couldn¡¯t stop the surge. My pick blazed with red light, but some of that Energy infused the muscles in my arm. The pickaxe accelerated to blur, and I almost lost grip of its handle. Still, I managed to hold on and hit the area near the Aether anomaly.

    My pick struck the wall with an explosive force. I recoiled first from the rebound caused by the strength of the blow and the hail of sharp stone fragments that followed and then from the resounding shriek that drowned out all other sounds. I stumbled backward, barely getting out of the way of a skittering, spider-like shape that tumbled out of the cloud of dust, erupting from the wall.

    What the hell is that?

    I took in the abomination as it rolled across the ground in front of me. My mind struggled with the juxtaposition of the beauty of its iridescent carapace, not unlike the wings of a butterfly, and the fact that it looked to be a spider larger than a dog. Fear won out when its legs pierced the stone in an attempt to right itself. I had blown a small crater into the wall, yet the thing could still, albeit with some effort, move on its spindly legs.

    Camouflage gone, a crystalline spider tried to limp towards back the cloud of dust. As it moved, the Aether density around it began to diminish. Before my eyes, the crystalline carapace lost its iridescence and became more translucent, however, before it managed to fade away, another pick, glowing red, pierced its body and pinned it to the ground. Somehow, it survived that blow. Its screeches reverberated through the cavern. In part pain and part defiance, it extended its pointed legs at my partner and stabbed them into the stone floor. That futile gesture came to an abrupt end.

    Energy surged through the pick. When its course intersected with the impaled spider, it compressed the monster¡¯s body into the ground. The angular shell of the creature vibrated as if trying to contain pressure. It failed in a spectacular fountain of dark fluid and ichor. The Energy continued through the body, slamming into the ground and causing cracks to spread out radially. Vibrations followed, traveling up my legs. Had I not braced, I would have stumbled from their strength.

    My mining partner, sure of the monster¡¯s death, turned to look at me. ¡°How?¡±

    I didn¡¯t get to answer him. ¡°Brother, nice kill,¡± the Verndari called out before returning to barking out orders.

    They had put down the infestation, and now it was time to collect the rewards. Yet, the young ?ttar didn¡¯t move in the direction of his leader. He pulled out his pickaxe, cleaned it with a flick, and stood waiting, not saying another word. More than a few ?ttir kept tossing glances in our direction.

    What was going on?

    I didn¡¯t have to wait long. A few ?ttir gathered behind the Verndari as he walked toward us. I couldn¡¯t miss the looks of admiration in those ?ttar¡¯s eyes when they caught sight of the dead monster. They were a stark difference from the Verndari¡¯s shock and annoyance when he caught sight of me standing near the kill. Still, what did we kill to have made such an impression and to earn a personal congratulation from the company¡¯s head?

    The Verndari stood over the remains. ¡°Could have left a bit more to salvage, but better it be dead. It looks like this Human didn¡¯t hold you back.¡±

    My partner nodded. ¡°He served.¡± He said nothing about my role in the kill or my work in the tunnel, but even those words brought a flicker of scowl.

    ¡°When you recover, join the excavation. We will be working late.¡± He studied me, perhaps looking for signs of Aether toxicity. Then his gaze flicked to the tunnel to the new deposit. Even from here, I could pick up the low thrum of concentrated Aether coming from its direction. ¡°Human, gather the remains and bring them for processing.¡±

    I suppressed a smile. Greed won out. I wouldn¡¯t need to test the limits of my Aether tolerance today.

 37. Hidden Threats and Their Rewards - II

    The final count of monsters exceeded the fifty terrorvoles. I knew this because I picked up all seventy-four of the carcasses. Not a single ?ttir had even tried to talk to me while I tossed terrorvole body after body onto a cart. That almost changed when I grabbed the spider-like creature. No one told me its name, but it had some importance. The ?ttir kept stealing glances at it before I hid it under a layer of terrorvoles. Their attention only further encouraged me to hide it. A pile of corpses this large meant only one thing: hitting a lode. But if I added this creature on top of that...? I had no desire to draw even more attention by showcasing the monster when I hauled the cart out of the mine.

    My hopes of running into Dorian didn¡¯t pan out. He would have explained everything. But he was still working, or we had missed each other when I dragged the cart to the [Harvesters].

    I parked the cart at the back of the building and stared at the structure for a moment. Where should I leave it? Dorian had managed it all before, but I didn¡¯t trust just leaving it here. I circled to the front as Dorian had done and found a closed door. I knocked.

    A voice called out, ¡°One second.¡±

    I didn¡¯t wait long before the door opened, revealing the man¡ªor maybe elf?¡ªthat Dorian had been conversing with back in the Commons. The lithe man was no Oresian. He was the most ¡°Human¡± person that I had seen since arriving. His dark olive skin would look at home in any number of sun-soaked Latin American, Mediterranean, or Middle Eastern countries¡ªif you ignored the pointy ears and vibrant green hair and eyes.

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± His eyebrows were raised in question, but I would have sworn there was amusement as well.

    I shook away my shock. ¡°I have monsters that need processing.¡±

    ¡°Then you came to almost the right place. Bring your cart over here, and I¡¯ll show you where to go.¡±

    So, valet service is only for Dorian. Still, it is hard to complain about the best service I have experienced so far.

    I went back and pulled the cart around. The craftsman was waiting, and I followed closely behind as he rounded his shop. We entered a quadrangle made of four rectangular buildings, each with large barn-style doors that opened toward the center.

    Skirting a center filled with multiple pits, we headed toward the only building that had light spilling from its opening. Most pits were untended, but a couple had workers with long poles slowly stirring a liquid with large lumps floating on their dark surfaces. The hides obscured the bottom, but occasionally, the worker would move the pole in such a way that an eerie, blue glow would escape to the surface. The color felt familiar, but I couldn''t place it.

    Some of those hides looked quite large¡ªat least larger than the terrorvoles in my cart. A morbid curiosity took hold, and I craned my neck in their direction.

    ¡°Careful,¡± to which my guide added a not-so-subtle pull on the cart to recover the inches my cart had drifted with my look. ¡°You will come off the path. The ground can be unforgiving, and I don¡¯t want to stay late trying to fix your cart.¡± I straightened my gaze, trying to ignore the subtle warmth in my cheeks. He cut my burgeoning disappointment short. ¡°Not many have interest in this type of work. I can give you a tour of the tannery at another time if you want.¡±

    ¡°This is a tannery?¡°

    ¡°What else did you expect?¡±

    ¡°I...¡±

    I had no clue. How is leather even made? I had some vague recollections of it being a foul process¡ªmaybe with urine involved at some point in its history?

    ¡°I am not sure. Maybe more smell? Dorian had mentioned that you had skills to suppress the smell, but this is almost unbelievable.¡± At most, I could detect a faint hint of an earthy musk.

    ¡°I appreciate the compliment even if it isn¡¯t normally this good. We are lucky to have a higher Aether density and a grade of crystals that can substitute for some of the less desirable compounds needed to tan the hides. And of course, we are only processing a fraction of our max capacity.¡± He paused in front of the barn door. ¡°Now that you know that the smell will get worse, do you still want that tour? I would understand if this is just a passing curiosity.¡±

    Why not? It seemed interesting, and I would get to chat with another person who didn¡¯t instantly hate me. ¡°I would appreciate that.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Let¡¯s find a time in the future.¡± He knocked on the door before shouting, ¡°We¡¯ve got a delivery.¡± His warning got a few chairs moving inside the building. He turned back to me. ¡°You can start making a pile on the ground here. Is it all terrorvoles?¡±

    ¡°Almost.¡± I started tossing them onto the ground. ¡°There are seventy-four terrorvoles in various conditions. I also have one other monster. It¡¯s¡­sorry, I don¡¯t actually know its name.¡± I uncovered the spider-like creature. Even in the dim light, its chitin took on an opalescent sheen.

    ¡°A crystalline assassin spider?¡± He rushed forward to examine it as if not believing it was real. ¡°How many men did you lose?¡±

    ¡°None?¡±

    ¡°No way,¡± came a voice from behind me. I turned to find a man in standing in the doorway. He was the spitting image of my guide if you knocked off a couple of decades and ignored the hair and the extra muscle.

    I couldn¡¯t determine if his disbelief stemmed from seeing the creature or the battle¡¯s outcome. An Oresian who looked a few years older than Dorian followed right after him. The three men crowded around the cart, though the two additions stood behind my guide with a clear deference. Given their relative positioning, I placed good odds that my guide was the head of this place and, if I remembered correctly, Auren L?dermak?r.

    I gave them all space as they examined the body.

    ¡°It is a shame the body is so damaged,¡± the Oresian chimed as the head [Leatherworker] lifted it up by the legs.

    ¡°Better it than the crew,¡± he scolded. ¡°You will have to forgive my apprentices. It is not often we find a specimen like this, and it is even more uncommon that we get one without significant losses. More than once, I have had the displeasure of harvesting the body of one of these creatures that had ended a small group of unprepared [Miners]. If no one died, a little damage is a worthwhile tradeoff.¡±

    I tended to agree. ¡°So it is worth something?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Oh, yes. Speaking of which, let us take this and get it measured and documented. My apprentices will finish unloading the rest.¡±

    They almost stifled a groan when he pulled the spider from the pile and headed into the lit building. I sympathized but said nothing. I had done my fair share of scut work as a medical student. Every job worth doing required putting in your dues.

    We entered a building arrayed with large worktables covered with raw hides, slaughtered monsters, and quite a few tools. Even more wickedly curved or pointed tools hung from the walls. And stuff that I rather not think about, even after taking Gross Anatomy, covered the floor.

    He put the spider on a clear workbench, lifting each leg and inspecting the body in detail. ¡°Even if my apprentices can¡¯t watch their mouths, they were right. The damage does reduce its value." I frowned, but he waved it away. ¡°Not that much, mind you. Its chitin carries the majority of the value. However, the organs and venom sac would have been nice if they weren¡¯t liquified. What killed it?¡±

    ¡°I am not sure the name of the technique the ?ttar used, but it seems like some sort of blast wave. I have seen him pulverize rock to a depth of almost 3 feet with a single blow.¡±

    ¡°If he was an ?ttar, it was probably [Concussive Strike] or a variant.¡±

    ¡°He used it inside the spider.¡±

    "That would do it. These monsters are quite resilient. Often, you need to fully dismember it to stop it. They can put up a significant fight with just half their legs. With even fewer legs, they can slink away into the darkness and regrow what was lost. You were very lucky not to lose a single person to one. I also imagine that your lode will be far richer than you would expect with having to fight only seventy-five terrorvoles.¡±

    He continued his inspection, making a few measurements before pushing it aside. ¡°We will take care of the processing. You are with Dorian¡¯s group, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes. He spoke to you about me?¡±

    He gave me a knowing smile. ¡°Only in passing, but even if he hadn¡¯t, it¡¯s become common knowledge among certain circles that an unaffiliated Human is around.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Was that a good thing?

    He tapped the table. ¡°Now, do you know how this kill will be split?¡±

    Dorian¡¯s past complaint returned. ¡°I don¡¯t know. The Verndari didn¡¯t give me any specific directions.¡±

    ¡°Then it probably has been prearranged. Were you present in the battle?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Only Dorian wasn¡¯t.¡±

    He wiped off his hands with a towel. ¡°Give me a minute. I will check.¡± He walked to the back with a desk full of books muttering, ¡°Complications of life debts.¡± He took out a large book and opened it on the desk. At this distance, I could barely make out a series of lines and numbers as he flipped pages. Ledgers? He shook his head before he returned. ¡°I got it sorted. Things aren¡¯t typical, but that isn¡¯t unexpected with a group composition like yours.¡±

    Which of course meant that Dorian probably would lose out on this. First, the Verndari tries to poison me, then he screws Dorian out of his cut. And I could do¡­nothing. I would not take it out on the messenger.

    ¡°Thanks for your help. So, is that it? Do I need to do anything else?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I got the information I needed. And no, we will take care of the rest. Just tell my apprentices that they can join me if they are done.¡± I nodded in confirmation. ¡°Now if you will excuse me, I have some work to do.¡±

    I left him to his work, but something stopped me at the door. I took in the intensity he brought to studying the monster¡¯s body. His gaze was that of a master excited about a new project, not at all unlike Kyria Rhaptis with the null materials. Then it clicked. I should have noticed it right off the bat. Or rather, I should have noticed what was lacking. In a world where levels meant power, what did it mean when every bit of his skin was covered save the part of his face not hidden by his hair?

    The air took on a stillness as he continued staring at the monster¡¯s corpse. Then the Aether density shifted dramatically. I swallowed. Whatever his level, it was high enough that I didn¡¯t need to overstay my welcome. I fled the place, only pausing to pass along his last instructions to his apprentices. I had a date with the [Tailor] regarding my Marks. I just had one other stop I needed to make first.

 38. Callus Formation

    By the time I left the tannery, the sun had set behind the tree line, casting a shadow over the camp. Judging by the line¡¯s length, plenty of people had already filed into the dining hall for dinner, but food would have to wait. Enough light persisted to keep the camp from falling into complete darkness, but it wouldn¡¯t last long. I needed water, and dragging heavy buckets in the dark was a recipe for disaster.

    I grabbed buckets from my longhouse, purposely avoiding the mirror. My head¡¯s throbbing had steadily increased since the afternoon. I had made the mistake of touching my temple after the battle. I didn¡¯t do it again. Let¡¯s just say that denial was a powerful thing and, apparently, stronger than morbid curiosity.

    After a short walk to the well, I arrived, finding no one in line. I put a bucket on a small platform that jutted out of the edge of the well, though ¡°well¡± was a misnomer. While it was a circular structure containing water, the water level was less than a foot from the top of the stone wall. They had more encased a natural spring than dug a hole.

    I grabbed the draw pail and studied the well. In the fading light, I couldn¡¯t make out the depth or the clarity of the dark pool of water.

    It was clean, right?

    I took a deep breath and pushed back my thoughts about what microbes living in untreated water could do.

    If the first batch didn¡¯t make me sick why would this one?

    I dipped the draw pail into the pool of water and poured its contents into the bucket from my longhouse. I leaned into my denial, purposely not thinking about how I failed to sanitize either bucket. I kept transferring the water, pausing only once when the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly rose. I looked over my shoulders, seeing nothing but in the deepening darkness.

    I needed to relax. Most of the camp drank the water from here, and people drank from communal wells all the time in the past. They also got cholera with an unsurprising degree of reg¡ª

    I took a long deep breath, letting it out.

    I will be fine!

    I repeated the words in my head as I continued to transfer water into my second bucket. I leaned down to fill up the last pail needed to top off the bucket when something spun me around with enough force to rip the draw pail from my hands.

    A blow to my stomach silenced any words of question. It¡ªrather a fist, judging by the dark shape in front of me¡ªhit like a truck. I folded over as the blow lifted me into the air. Then, gravity reasserted itself. No one tried to slow my descent, and I hit the ground with a hard thud.

    I tried to look up at my assailant, but a hand pressed my face into the mud around the well. ¡°Oops. Did you spill your water, Human?¡± I couldn¡¯t speak. I could only gasp for air. ¡°You should be more careful. It is quite muddy. It is so easy to slip.¡±

    The crack of my ribs breaking from the kick was audible. My world spun again, and I landed on my back. The cold mud instantly leached the warmth from my body, but it did little to dampen the spikes of fire that even the slightest intake of air sent through my body. I blinked away the tears, trying to make sense of what was happening. Everything hurt.

    My assailant grabbed my mouth, forcing me to look into his eyes. His amber eyes and lupin features held only scorn. ¡°You better make sure you have some healing potions available in case you get hurt especially since you will need to get your water outside the walls. After all, we can¡¯t have you tainting our water supply with your Human filth.¡±

    His vise-like grip tightened on my cheeks. ¡°Do you not have a potion?¡± He shook my head back and forth. ¡°No? That is fine. You don¡¯t have to ask me for one. I am happy to help you. Consider it part of teaching about our water supply.¡±

    He pulled a potion out of a belt pouch and poured it into my mouth. I couldn¡¯t stop my shuddering wheezes, and I choked on the cool liquid as it slid down my throat. Somehow through hacking coughs that turned my vision white, I managed to get it down. It wasn¡¯t much. Likely my attacker had given me just enough to make sure I didn¡¯t die.

    I assessed the potion inside me. Some of it had already been absorbed in my mouth, though most passed through to my stomach. Though still new at this, the amount sitting in there had no chance of repairing enough damage for me to walk home without significant pain. He had broken bones and probably also caused internal bleeding. He probably wanted me to lie in the mud writhing in pain, except, he didn¡¯t know about my skill. While not the manner I had imagined for practicing it, I no longer had a choice. I activated [Enhance Medicinal].

    Pain lanced through my left ribs. My breath caught, and I let out an involuntary moan. Though I had never ingested potion, my response to it didn¡¯t seem right. If I didn¡¯t do something, I would pass out from the pain.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The potion could¡ªno, needed¡ªto work better than a blunt instrument. I used the skill to clamp down on the potion¡¯s healing energy to prevent its activation and spread. That alone was a challenge. The bioavailability was ridiculous. I could already sense most of the stuff flowing through my bloodstream. I managed to contain it, but drawing the Energy for that action caused the throbbing in my head to rival my chest for a second. Thankfully it diminished to a dull throb, allowing me to do what I should have done to start: an exam.

    It took a single touch and less than a second of looking inward to complete the physical, and the truth both horrified and fascinated me. Even with my skill active, the fractured ribs had continued to regenerate. Micro-fractures closed over milliseconds. I gave a small thanks that the larger breaks remained unfused because the bone¡¯s alignment did not conform to the proper anatomical structure.

    I had to confirm my exam findings. I took a breath, clenching my teeth as the fiery pain lashed through me. As I did so, a section of my ribs sucked inward as my chest expanded.

    A flail chest from a single kick?

    He had shattered enough bones that part of my chest moved opposite to the rest of my chest wall with inhaling. If I hadn¡¯t restrained the potion, it would have given me, at best, a permanent chest deformity or, at worst, a permanent decrease in lung capacity and life-long pain. Ironically, the speed of the potion regeneration was actually a downside because of the high risk of improper healing. For most people, rib fractures just require conservative management with pain control, though¡ªan image of an algorithm popped into my head confirming my suspicions¡ªfor a flail chest, surgical fixation did shorten ventilator and ICU times.

    I did what shouldn¡¯t have been possible at home. I exhaled completely and gritted my teeth as I pressed the floating piece down to match the rest of my ribs. My vision started to go black, but I managed to coax the potion toward my desired outcome. The pain melted away from my chest only to flow into my head. With each beat of my heart, a hammer rained down on my skull. However, it was over in seconds.

    I let my new sense seep inward once more. With the potion¡¯s healing factor consumed, I had lost resolution, but I could still pick out the injuries with some focus. My ribs had healed as well as the lung contusion I had also. I blinked away tears and took in the two thin silhouettes walking away from my crumpled form. They didn¡¯t even bother to look back, but then again, they didn¡¯t need to. They made their message clear: I wasn¡¯t wanted here.

    But where could I go?

    I lay in the cold morass for minutes after they turned the corner. It leeched the warmth from my bruised body, but I welcomed it. It took the edge off the lingering pain. The potion had worked miracles, but it had only healed the major injuries. I would feel this tomorrow.

    Should I give up?

    I sighed. It would be so easy to just close my eyes and fall asleep. I had no real allies, and it appeared that two of the three groups here hated me. Those feral eyes and features made it clear who attacked me. Even without the amber eyes, their voice had none of the depth that I had heard in every ?ttar I had met. Their builds were far too tall and lithe for an Oresian. Which left the Volki¡­

    Lovely. It appears that both ?ttir and Volki hate Humans.

    The throbbing in my head increased. I had not followed the V¨ªsir¡¯s instructions regarding my Energy usage, but I didn¡¯t have it in me to resist my morbid curiosity. I brought a finger to my temple. They danced over a two-centimeter-wide mass with a dimple in the center. I didn¡¯t need a mirror to know its shape, not when something similar had burned itself into my memory.

    Unbidden, it flashed before my eyes. I was there again in front of the hospital bed with a young girl lying in it. Despite the nurses¡¯ best attempts, her gown had kept getting soiled by weeping, deep-red cylindrical lesions that covered her abdomen. I had watched her day by day as she cried in pain until she slipped into longer and longer stretches of restless, narcotic-induced sleep. She had been dying from metastatic melanoma, and her lesions matched the exact same shape as the mass on my face.

    Fresh tears fell from my eyes. Had the V¨ªsir poisoned me? The earth¡¯s cold seeped further into flesh and bones. There were worse ways to go. I had seen enough of them.

    The memory played on. I had leaned over her to do a perfunctory exam when she whispered, ¡°Can you help me?¡±

    I almost missed it. It didn¡¯t seem possible. Despite taking agonal breaths just minutes, she had managed to get out a full sentence, even if barely audible. As a fresh intern, I stood frozen, unable to find the words. I couldn¡¯t heal her. I couldn¡¯t stop what had ravaged her body. I couldn¡¯t even provide relief. That was beyond my level. My resident¡¯s too. In the end, she needed an attending trained in palliative sedation to make her final moments peaceful.

    When I didn¡¯t answer, she closed her eyes and slipped back to sleep. Her breathing returned to its ragged state. It was as if I had imagined it all, except I knew that I hadn¡¯t. Regardless, she¡ªNo, I could say her name¡ªElena had died not long after, with her parents, holding hands, standing in vigil. She had just turned eighteen.

    I clenched my fist. My throat burned. It always did when I thought of her, of my failures. Life had always been unfair, and this world had no veneer of civilization to hide it. However, it did have something Earth didn¡¯t: magic. I had given up on medicine at home, but could I do so here? With a sip of liquid, I could go from needing weeks in the ICU to standing. Even if I couldn¡¯t wield magic to heal, I could manipulate substances that did nearly the same thing.

    I would not let this place break me. I had a duty, and I would fulfill it with whatever tools I had available.

    I dragged my body to my knees and then to my feet. The mud squelched with each movement. I reached down and picked up my buckets, tipped over next to the imprint of my sprawled form, the only evidence of what happened here. I filled them up. I had to get this thing off my face, but I couldn¡¯t see Kyria Rhaptis like this. I eyed the buckets. I would need every drop to clean myself off before meeting with the old woman, but I couldn¡¯t risk coming back here. I picked up a bucket and poured it over my head, clenching my teeth as the cold water hit me. Two more buckets did the job. I filled the buckets once more before heading home to change.

    <hr>

 39. Chairside Procedure - I

    ¡°That was more than I needed,¡± Kyria Rhaptis said while standing in the door and staring up at the mass the salve had spawned on my Mark.

    ¡°As long as you can remove it.¡±

    The mirror in my home had done nothing to disprove my worst fears.  Denial was a powerful thing, but even it had limits.  At home, I would have jumped to study the impressive specimen with its mixture of iridescent veins and angry red tissue. However, with it attached to my face, I was now the interesting case¡ªa thing you never wanted to be.

    ¡°I can, but it will hurt.  You will also definitely need a potion.¡±  She stepped back to let me in.  ¡°I will get a cloth and my tools.  Have a seat over there.¡±

    I paused in front of the chair near the corner.  The straps on the arms and back raised a few concerns.  I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this device¡¯s primary purpose was sinister, and it would not surprise me to see the chair in a museum exhibit about medieval torture devices.

    The old [Tailor] saw my troubled look.  ¡°Necessary precautions.  Now sit.¡±

    I didn¡¯t miss the command in her tone.  I sat down in the chair, though I didn¡¯t put my arms in the straps. That was a step too far.  Though the pain had improved, the events of the last hour remained fresh in my mind.  Everything in this camp continued to push my skeptical nature into one favoring paranoia and distrust.  It wasn¡¯t healthy, but neither was getting beaten senseless.  However, lack of trust was not the only reason I failed to place my arms on the black straps.  While the straps weren¡¯t leather, they still had a menacing air to them.  I could pick up strange energies emanating from the patterns woven into the dark fabric.  Though I couldn¡¯t tell what they did, I couldn¡¯t deny the feeling that putting my hand in there would be no different than placing them in a steel trap. I would be completely at her mercy.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t used to pain, are you?¡±

    The amusement in her eyes was infuriating, but I didn¡¯t try to deny the truth.  ¡°No. I think most here would say I have lived a soft life.¡±

    ¡°Then you will need this more than most.¡±  She grabbed my wrist with a strength that belied her size and age and strapped my arms to the chair.  I barely caught the subtle shift in the Aether before the straps suddenly cinched down and my awareness dimmed.

    I tried to move my wrists, but I couldn¡¯t even wiggle it.  ¡°A bit tight.¡±  My hands had already started to go white from lack of blood flow.

    She grabbed my arm at the elbow, pushing and pulling it before tsk-tsking.  She raised a hand, and another piece of long dark cloth that she had lying on the table flew into her palm.  In my amazement, I almost missed her next words. ¡°You mean not tight enough.  I forget you Humans have slightly longer limbs.¡±

    She looped the cloth behind the chair and around my chest and upper arms.  The Aether rippled, and the dark fabric layered on top of each other, the ends no longer visible. She pulled the last strap over my head and tightened it.  The patterns on the cloth pulled in Aether, and as it did so, my ability to perceive Aether and Energy diminished.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°You noticed?  You know, for someone who grew up in a null zone, you have quite the keen senses.  Your Perception must be quite high.  These straps suppress everything¡ªskill, Energy usage, Potentials; I can¡¯t have you trying to activate your Marks by accident.¡±  She held up a wood dowel.  ¡°You will want to bite on this.¡±

    ¡°Can I change my mind?¡±

    She laughed at that, and the tinge of sadness in it did little to reassure me.  ¡°No.  Even if you didn¡¯t realize what you were getting yourself into, we made a deal.  I want my level.  Plus, you need it.  You won¡¯t always be able to rely on the good nature of others to stay safe.  Now bite down.¡± Given little other choice, I did so.  ¡°Good. That should protect your tongue.¡±

    She stepped back.  ¡°Try to move.¡±  I could barely breathe much less wiggle. ¡°Good.  That should be sufficient, especially with your strength.¡±  Her hands roved over a few knives on the table.  She lingered over the darkwood knife before shaking her head.  She grabbed a metal one.  She moved to my right side and examined my Mark.   ¡°I just want to remind you that this will be worth it, though I think you will find that little comfort in the short run.  Some say this experience feels like a piece of their soul is being shorn off, and that is with a smaller piece.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked¡ªor tried to. The wood in my mouth garbled my words.

    Even through the suppression, I could detect the ripple in the Aether.  It was the only warning I had.  I squeezed my eyes shut as the edge of the blade touched my scalp.  Brief lances of pain radiated down my face into my jaw and cheek.

    This was no worse than a dental cleaning.  I could¡ª

    ¡±I would bite down now. I am going to cut now.¡±

    I didn¡¯t need her suggestion.  My jaw and body spasmed, and my vision turned white.  She was right.  Those straps had not been tight enough. It was as if she was reaching into my brain and trying to pull it out through the small hole she had cut.  Time seemed to slow.  Every millimeter that the blade cut stretched out over years instead of seconds.  Before that endless agony turned to blissful nothingness, I made a vow: I would invent anesthesia.

    ***

    ¡°You finally back with us?¡±

    I blinked as I returned to consciousness.  Was I?  A low-grade throbbing implied as much.  At least it wasn¡¯t worse than earlier this morning and a definite improvement from the soul-rending pain from earlier.  Still, I had undergone surgery without any form of anesthesia.  What the hell had I been thinking?  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    I am done, right?

    ¡°Are we done?¡±  It was more a croak than actual words.  I smacked my lips.  A dry film coated them and my tongue.  ¡°How long have I been out?¡±

    ¡°Probably close to half an hour.  It hit your body harder than I anticipated.¡±

    I tried to stand up, but the straps held me down, probably for the best.  Just that subtle movement had made my world spin.  Still...

    ¡°A little help here?¡±

    ¡°Just a second.  I am at an important part.¡±

    Well, if I couldn¡¯t move, at least my seat afforded a perfect view of her work.  A tall glass cup filled with liquid stood on the table.  Two large Aether crystals, one red and the other green, rested on the bottom.  The liquid looked like water, but water didn¡¯t have a vivid blue tinge.  She clasped her hands around the glass cup, and her Mark flashed.  When she removed her hands, a bright light emanated from the center of the two crystals.  The light escalated in intensity before peaking and starting to dim. As the internal light faded, a vivid halo of the eerie, blue light formed around each crystal.  Bit by bit, the crystals melted away, and the halos grew in size.  Eventually, the crystal and the light they contained vanished.

    She leaned back, lifting the glass with a glowing, neon-blue liquid and admiring her work.  ¡°I am about to add your Mark.  If you think you won¡¯t faint and ruin my work, I can let you have a seat by the table.¡±

    After that display, my current distance from the action didn¡¯t cut it.  ¡°I will be careful.¡±

    She reached out her hand, and every strap suddenly went slack and slipped to the floor.

    ¡°Neat trick. Can you do that with any fabric?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t commented on it before with my not-so-incorrect worries about being tortured, but it had potential surgical applications.  Of course, did they even need surgery with healing potions?

    ¡°Not easily.  These have been enchanted.¡±

    I moved slowly, which was a good idea.  As I lifted myself out of the chair, the throbbing increased dramatically.  I sat back down and touched the source of the pain.  The skin was now smooth; the tumor excised.  However, I would need a mirror.  I couldn¡¯t detect any abrasion, but the Mark hadn¡¯t completely recovered.  The pain made that clear.

    ¡°I used a potion on your Mark.  It didn¡¯t scar.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.  I might just scoot up a chair.¡±

    She snorted, and for good measure, she took hold of the glass container.  I dragged the chair to the table, which was its own mistake.  The sound of the chair dragging across the floor was a dagger to my ears.

    I should have just enjoyed the view from afar.

    As if reading my mind, she said, ¡°It will be worth it.¡±

    Using a pair of crude, metal forceps, she took the piece of my Mark off a small metal plate.  My Mark was small, less than my thumb in size, and yet it had caused me so much pain.

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°Essentially, I will dissolve your Mark creating a solution containing your essence.  I will then bathe your null materials in it until they have absorbed them.  Of course, you will need to come and provide blood to sustain the process. After a week, you will have essence-enchanted gear.¡°

    ¡°That seems pretty easy. You¡¯ll get a level for this?¡°

    She snorted. ¡°I simplified it.  The potential for things to go wrong is endless.  The solution takes careful nurturing. The clothing needs to absorb the solution in a consistent manner else the variance in Aether densities will cause the fabric to degrade quickly.¡±

    ¡°So, complex even if it doesn¡¯t sound like it.¡°

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I smiled. She was still holding stuff back.  It was obvious by the way she spoke.  I had done the same countless times in order to explain medical conditions without overwhelming my patients or their family members.  Before me sat an expert who could regale me with enough esoteric information to leave me befuddled.  Except she didn¡¯t, which earned my respect.  It was late.  My head still hurt.  My body ached.  In short, I was a mess.  However, she explained things at the level I needed, not needing to prove her superiority.  I just gave her a very small nod while making a promise to myself that I would return to pick her brain when I felt better.

    She held my Mark over the water, eyeing me as if waiting for a question.  I didn¡¯t have one until, of course, one popped into my head right as she was about to drop it.  ¡°Why metal forceps?  And a plate for that matter?¡±  There were so few metal items in this camp.

    ¡°You noticed.  Why do you think?¡±

    It took a second, but then the answer was obvious.  ¡°Metal is inherently inert.¡±

    She grinned, pleased with my response.  I now had little doubt that this woman had taught in the past.  ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like much, but you have to remember that Marks are the heart of your power.  Even a small sliver contains everything we need.  We just need to amplify it.  Of course, that can also magnify impurities if we aren¡¯t careful.  In a perfect world, we would work on the Mark while it is still attached to the person, but all our methods have the unfortunate downside of killing most living things.  That isn¡¯t an issue when we remove a piece, but the chance of contamination increases.  Non-inert tools just make that more likely.  Even I will admit that the chance of that is low, but why take the risk?¡±

    Her comment made me take note of something I had missed.  I cocked my head as I tried to gauge it better, but that motion sent bolts exploding from my temple.  I squeezed my eyes shut, letting it pass.

    ¡°Did you have something to say, sweetie?¡±

    Though aborted, I had still picked up on the anomaly.  ¡°Are you suppressing the Aether?¡±

    The whole room was devoid of it.  Had she damaged my Mark?  Except, I could pick up something from the vial.

    ¡°My, my, my.  So soon after all you went through.  Here I thought your Perception was high, but it really must be something impressive.  To answer your questions, not exactly.  It would be more appropriate to say that I am blocking it.  How else would I be able to ensure no contamination?  We can¡¯t actually replicate null zones.  Too many items here are laced with Aether, but with the proper formations and enough power, we can prevent much of the world¡¯s Aether from entering.¡±  My eyes followed the direction that she gestured with her head, and I found her bare feet standing on top of glowing lines etched into the floor.  ¡°It is a drain to push my Energy through them, but,¡± she let out a mock sigh, ¡°I will manage. Now enough let¡¯s get this done.¡±

    With that, she dropped my Mark into the blue liquid.  For all the talk of being careful, some of the solution splashed over the edge.  I gave her a look, but she just shrugged.

    ¡°There¡¯s plenty extra.¡±

    She took a metal rod and stirred the solution. Whatever it was, it quickly worked on the piece of my Mark. The solution dissolved the mass without fanfare.   It just sank to the bottom without a bit of sizzling or foaming.  Anti-climactic really¡ªat least until small, then larger chunks broke off the central mass.  Each piece left bright, vibrant strands floating in the liquid.  As if in reverse of the solution¡¯s preparation, the liquid began losing its blue glow.  As it did so, the brilliant strands thickened.  As they grew, they flickered red, green, orange¡ªall the colors of the rainbow.  It was more than a trick of the light.  They were the sources of the different wavelengths of light.  Then, the strands started to move.

 40. Chairside Procedure - II

    In the water, the strands floated, twirling around each other and releasing bursts of light in a hypnotic dance. They moved so organically. Perhaps if bubbles filled the glasses, I could have attributed the movement to the effervescence, but even in still water, the strands danced like worms.

    Could the Marks be alive?

    I quickly chided myself; I didn¡¯t know anything about the fluid. Fluid mechanics alone could explain the phenomenon. If not that, then the strands¡¯ growth could cause unequal tension, leading to twists and turns. However, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder. If so, the implications¡­I had enough on my plate as it was.

    Instead, I sat, eyes glued to the sample as the hypnotic dance wound down and the lights intensified.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°Your Mark exhibits more colors than most. Curious. Most Marks have a preference. I have only seen such a broad spectrum after harvesting a young child¡¯s Mark. Maybe it¡¯s your level?¡± She tapped her lips with a finger. ¡°That might explain it. Either way, you are lucky to see this¡ªit is quite rare.¡±

    ¡°Preference?¡±

    ¡°I am sure that you¡¯ve noticed that when people use certain skills, they emit light from their Marks. While every Mark absorbs Aether, how the Aether is converted into Energy and channeled through a body differs. Certain colors tend to suggest different effects. While I would like to tell you that there¡¯s a hard and fast rule, there isn¡¯t. However, the general rule of thumb is that physical skills emit red and mental skills emit blue. However, as you just saw, there are other options there.¡±

    ¡°Does anyone know why?¡±

    ¡°It is debated. Without a doubt, some of it is familial. Certain shades run in families and are more common in certain people than others. However, the same skill can emit different light even within a family. Much of that is probably related to the different techniques used to learn or trigger a skill. Childhood or, possibly, the early levels are a key time for this. Once set, preferences tend to propagate.¡±

    ¡°So basically nature versus nurture.¡± As frustrating as it was, at least some things seemed constant between the two worlds. Rarely did a single gene cause a trait or a disease. Most diseases need environmental factors interacting with multiple genes¡ªoverwhelmingly frustrating if you were trying to prognosticate or reassure a person with a family history of cancer or Alzheimer¡¯s. However, on the flip side, if you had said genes, it was potentially reassuring.

    Unfortunately, my flippant remark earned me an appraising look. ¡°That is a rather succinct way of putting it.¡±

    She waited for me to expound further, which I promptly declined. Of course, nature versus nurture was not a common framework here. They probably knew nothing about genetics, and I didn¡¯t dare give the slightest introduction to the topic. Someone of her intellect might glean far too much.

    She frowned but continued. ¡°As far as we can tell, nature, as you called it, has little impact on the actual skills¡ªat least, not at an individual level. Some postulate that we all¡ªOresiani, ?ttir, Volki, and Humans¡ªhave been shaped by the land much like the simpler creatures.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, and she continued. ¡°It is very clear that markings found in animals and plants are more representative of the Aether around them than their abilities.¡±

    ¡°Just how different can the Aether be?¡±

    ¡°Quite. Have you not noticed the difference between the mine and here?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Only the strength.¡± With everything going on, I had not put too much thought into the differences.

    ¡°Given what you have been going through, I am not too surprised. Aether comes in different types. And when you focus on it, you can sense the differences. Some register it as a taste; others, as a sensation. However, most describe the different types as flavors since everyone agrees that an ingredient¡¯s markings affect its taste.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°Give it time. I am sure your,¡± she winked, ¡°heritage hasn¡¯t helped.¡±

    I tried not to stiffen at the subtle reminder of how much she suspected. ¡°How about with monsters?¡±

    ¡°Oh, such an interesting topic. There are no rules with those abominations.¡± She waggled a finger at me. ¡°And if someone hasn¡¯t told you this, be very careful with what parts of a monster you consume. I would not recommend anything unless you have a skilled [Chef] preparing it. The risks are too great.¡±

    ¡°So all those terrorvoles we kill in the mine, their meat is wasted?¡±

    She let out an amused, melodic chuckle that belied her age. ¡°Oh, foolish boy. We don¡¯t waste anything. Just because most can¡¯t tolerate it doesn¡¯t mean we all can¡¯t.¡± She gave me a devilish grin. ¡°Some of us find the meat quite delicious.¡°

    Thank you, scary grandma, for reminding me¡ªagain¡ªof just how powerful you are.

    ¡°So¡­because I have all these colors, I have a lot of options for skills?¡±

    ¡°Possibly, but most classes don¡¯t have this range. Given your tier, your Mark could just be immature. It isn¡¯t common for your age, but neither is your level. It is likely some combination of the two, though,¡± she drummed her fingers on the table, ¡°your class could be a root class, which just means many classes can branch off it.¡±

    ¡°Something like a [Warrior] or [Healer].¡±

    ¡°Exactly. However, even then, this is more than I would have expected. Maybe your unique background...null zone and Human? You are really lucky with this. A Mark this versatile will make your new equipment quite open to growth. Would you be open to providing more for study?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    When I shuddered at the thought, she just laughed. However, I had no doubt that she would not hesitate if I took her up on the offer.

    Our conversation drifted into peaceful silence as we sat back and watched the remainder of the light show. The blue water faded to clear. Then, not long after, those strands lost their iridescence and started to dissolve, returning to a translucent blue¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll definitely have a mental focus.¡±

    ¡°Because it ended blue?¡°

    ¡°Yes, which is also not surprising given your Mark¡¯s location.¡°

    ¡°So all that talk about a diversity of skills?¡±

    ¡°Still applies.¡± She picked up the glass and carried it to a table in the corner. ¡°With this, we are done. At least for tonight. You¡¯ll need to come back every few nights over the next week so that I can draw your blood.¡°

    ¡°How much do you need?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t know until I start.¡±

    I just nodded. Not that I had any other choice. ¡°If I¡¯m done, then I am going to see if there¡¯s anything left for me to eat.¡°

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have anything before you came?¡°

    ¡°No.¡° Without meaning to, I let some of my anger at my assault slip out.

    She gave me a sad smile. ¡°It has to be hard being the only Human here.¡°

    ¡°Yes,¡° I managed, taking a moment to choke back my tears. ¡°It¡¯s¡­been an adjustment.¡± I had never been bullied, much less almost beaten to death.

    ¡°You should know that despite how valuable this opportunity is to me, I still would not have done it if not for Dorian. He has clearly found another¡­project.¡± My eyes narrowed, but she continued undeterred. ¡°One that I think will bear unexpected fruit. Still, you do not know what you ask by just existing here. Dorian is loyal to his friends, even if he makes them too easily. He also underestimates potential risks. His position here is strong yet tenuous. While you are clearly shouldering a heavy burden, it would be best if you shoulder it alone.¡°

    Her words carried a hard edge. I stared at her, teeth clenched. Even if she didn¡¯t know the exact details, she had a strong inkling of what I had experienced. The pain from my procedure had allowed me to forget the ache that still filled my body, but I would feel it tomorrow. I wanted to get angry, but in her eyes, I caught a subtle plea. Though she tried to hide it, a kind grandma lingered behind her hard facade¡ªat least when it came to Dorian.

    ¡°Thanks for letting me know.¡± I stood up, debated, and then spoke my mind. ¡°You know what? You could have just asked instead of threatening me. But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll watch out for him. He has been the only one here to actually give a damn about someone outside their clan or tribe. That alone is something worth protecting.¡±

    I took it as a win that the pressure in the room didn¡¯t increase as I turned around and walked through the door.

    ***

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Dorian asked after I landed a heavy and awkward blow. Here at least, mining was about endurance and precision, and I had let my anger ruin my concentration.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just tired.¡± Of course, that was only partly true. Last night, I developed bouts of a hacking cough. A side effect of my ¡°surgery?¡± Who knew?

    However, even if the truth hovered on the tip of my tongue, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to discuss it. Kyria Rhaptis¡¯s words echoed in my head. He had done a lot¡ªtoo much¡ªalready. When I got home after finishing with the [Tailor], a tray of food had been waiting for me. Only one person would have done that. As much as I appreciated it, he needed to stop before he got caught up in the politics. He was already on thin ice with the Verndari.

    I went back to swinging. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t get into a rhythm. The frustrations of yesterday kept distracting me, so I tried another tack: venting my pent-up bitterness and rage via the point of my pick. It worked until it didn¡¯t.

    I mistimed and overpowered a strike, and the tunnel wall exploded in a shower of stone. While I did manage to leave a large circle of cracks radiating out from the impact point, it came with a spray of shrapnel.

    ¡°Crap,¡± I muttered. Pinpricks of fire dotted my face and neck. What had I been thinking? Worse, I couldn¡¯t pass it off as a valid mining technique. Unlike my ?ttarsk partner, I didn¡¯t have the skill to channel the force. Instead, I just wasted Energy and made a mess.

    Dorian put his shovel down and dusted off a few pebbles. ¡°You really okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡­.¡± What was I to say? Even a stranger would have known I was lying through my teeth.

    Thankfully, he gave me an out. ¡°Was it backlash for the essence enchantment? I have heard they hurt.¡±

    I let out a long exhale. That excuse would do. ¡°They do. A lot. I had nightmares about it. I think it weakened my imm¡ªit just weakened me. I caught a pretty nasty cough, and that isn¡¯t helping.¡±

    He didn¡¯t notice that I failed to answer his question. Instead, he apologized, ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t feel like I pushed into it. I promise you, it will be worth it. Her work is unrivaled. Have you tried a healing potion?¡±

    I had. If anything, it made it worse, but that could have been a coincidence more than anything. It was late, and I¡¯d been tired when I tried it. In a new place and with no natural immunity, I was ripe for illness. ¡°Just a small amount. I might try again later.¡± I put my pickaxe down on the ground. ¡±I do appreciate all you have done. It is just so different from home. It is¡­hard.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine. Just let me know if I can help.¡±

    More than you have done? That earnest smile was heartbreaking. Even if I looked it, I wasn¡¯t young. I had seen firsthand how the world could chew up and spit out people like Dorian. Too many of my medical school friends had chosen high-paying specialties they hated to pay off the $300,000-plus loans they carried only to be burnt out by the job¡ªnot that it took loans to do that. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t lose that cheer. Plenty didn¡¯t, even if I wasn¡¯t one of them.

    ¡°I will,¡± I lied. He shook his head, but he let the topic drop. Before he returned to work, I asked, ¡°Actually, can we take lunch?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I am not at full strength, and I shouldn¡¯t act like it. I should take a break.¡±

    ¡±Okay then.¡±

    ¡°How about eating in the main cave?¡±

    He arched an eyebrow in question. ?ttir started early and ate early. We typically missed each other during our lunch breaks, which worked well for Dorian. It had taken me a long time to realize that he avoided interactions with ?ttir as much as possible. However, I had something to check, and his opinion on it would be valuable.

    He followed my lead and took a seat at the tunnel¡¯s edge. From here, we had a decent view of our company. I settled in, pulled out my hard tack, and took a bite. Nothing was redeeming about the texture or taste, but it did provide the calories we needed. It also gave me an excuse to confirm what I had noticed when I arrived this morning: most of our company hadn¡¯t used their potions after yesterday¡¯s fight.

    I whispered my suspicions to Dorian.

    He nodded. ¡°They are likely conserving them.¡± That might be an understatement. Even from just this morning, many of the ?ttir sported fresh bandages. I could even age the injuries because, for whatever reason, they didn¡¯t change their bandages even when they became soiled. ¡°At least it is for a good reason. It looks like they hit another load.¡± So he had noticed the new injuries as well. ¡°They are far too aggressive.¡±

    While new to mining, with the increasing number of injured ?ttir, I couldn¡¯t disagree. Life-debt or not, this rate of injuries seemed unsustainable. ¡°How long before they get another resupply?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t be too much longer. They will be on the top of the list with the hauls they are bringing in.¡±

    ¡±But¡­¡±

    ¡°Brewing them takes time and resources. I have heard that we are running low on the reagents. The Alfa should be due back soon, but until then, it will be hard to resupply an entire company.¡±

    ¡°So, I could help them.¡±

    ¡±You could, but it would be a waste of your time.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    ¡°Those greenskins would rather die than owe a debt.¡±

    I let those words sink in. They would rather die?

    For some reason, they hadn¡¯t gone to a [Healer]. ¡°With this many wounds, they¡¯ll have to start using potion. They can¡¯t keep this up¡ªI give them a day, tops.¡±

    Dorian just snorted.

    ***

 41. An Offer Accepted - I

    Dorian¡¯s skepticism was well-founded.  On the following day, more, not fewer, ?ttir sported wounds.  They had conserved potions despite facing new battles, but I couldn¡¯t see how this pace could persist.  Yet, somehow, it did.  The Verndari continued to push the company to excavate more despite the consequences.  More and more ?ttir walked around with visible injuries, but he got results.  Based on the number of carts full of terrorvole bodies I had cleared, they had struck at least one sizable lode.

    By the third day, I couldn¡¯t take it anymore.  I shook my head and muttered, ¡°I can¡¯t call myself a [Physician] if I don¡¯t even try.¡±  I had sworn an oath, and this went too far.

    Dorian stopped mid-bite at my muttering.  ¡°You sure about that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  I can''t sit back and watch this anymore."  They weren¡¯t doing any wound care.  The oldest bandage had visible brown and red stains.  Not all of that had come from dirt.

    ¡°Do you want me to go with you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I wouldn¡¯t say it, but diplomacy was not his strong suit.

    I walked over to the group that included my one-time mining partner.  Their conversation stopped immediately as I approached.  The h?rlie gave me a hard look before asking, ¡±What do you want, Human?¡±

    An auspicious start.  Every step toward these giants had made my stomach tighten, and the hostile reception roiled it even more.  From afar, they almost appeared normal, albeit jacked and with green skin.  However, up close, I couldn¡¯t ignore the sheer insanity of their physiques.  Muscles on muscles.  Even without magic¡ªEnergy¡ªthey could snap me like a twig.

    ¡°I want to offer my services. I have a skill that can make your potion more effect¡ª¡°

    "We don''t need your help, Human."  He intentionally drew out my heritage to emphasize the point.

    However, I wouldn¡¯t leave this situation without giving it a reasonable try.  ¡°I¡¯ve been watching.  Your wounds are stacking up, which only increases the chance of a more serious injury.  I am part of the team, and I can help everyone be more productive.¡±

    I paused.  No one showed any hints of interest.  Just how far does the distrust?

    I brought up the elephant in the room. ¡°I may be Human, but I am not from this area. I don¡¯t¡ª¡°

    He stood up, emphasizing the difference in our sizes.  ?ttar put most Olympians to shame, and he was bigger than most. ¡°Do I need to repeat myself, or does your brain struggle with understanding Common?¡±

    My jaw tightened, but I let the insult slide off my back.  Retorting would get me nowhere, and by this point, I had dealt with much worse.  However, while he had made his view clear, none of the others had spoken.  They had all paused to listen, but they could give poker players a run for their money.  I addressed my audience, making sure to meet the gaze of each of the ?ttir seated with him. I repeated my offer, keeping any heat out of my voice.  ¡°Fine, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.¡± The others didn¡¯t have to suffer because of their boss¡¯s prejudices.

    He just snorted, and I barely refrained from stomping back to Dorian, who handed me what remained of my food.

    ¡°Told you: honored-bound idiots.¡± He muttered, almost to himself, ¡°Only reason this place works.¡±

    That didn''t make it any better.

    ***

    I slammed my pickaxe against the rock face. ¡°Their pride is unbelievable,¡± I muttered.

    Two more days had passed since I first offered my skill to enhance the potions.  In that time, injuries had compounded as my teammates abstained from using a potion.  However, they kept rejecting my repeated offers at lunch.  Dorian claimed honor was at the heart of their culture, but this behavior was far beyond normal.  It was pathological.  They were literally willing to risk infection and death instead of trusting a Human to help.

    What were they going to do when things got worse?  Rush to a [Healer] for them to fix everything?  My face twisted into a sneer.  Actually, the [Healers] probably could.  But, I had yet to see one come down.  Having a [Healer] gave them a false sense of security.  They would get themselves killed.

    My vision reddened.  My pick slammed into the wall, which exploded into shards of stone.  ¡°Crap,¡± I yelled, spinning away.  Fire scoured my face.  ¡°Again?¡±

    I knew better.  Drawing in Aether impacted me.  Sure, I had a temper, but I had never been this volatile.  And yet, I continued to be idiotic, and, as I fumbled with the pouch at my waist and pulled out a corked bottle, a hypocrite.  So easy to fall into the trap of recklessness when one could eliminate the consequences with a single dab or sip of a potion.  With three quick swipes, all evidence of losing control over my anger vanished.

    Magical potions aside, I still needed to blink the dust out of my eye.  Dorian still hadn¡¯t returned from scouting out a new tunnel.  Without his [Dust Suppression], every strong strike sent up a huge cloud of dust, filling the tunnel with an earthy musk that lingered.  I hadn¡¯t quite managed to get the grit out of my eyes when a deep voice echoed in the dim tunnel.  ¡°Human.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    I jumped back at the word, pickaxe raised for a strike.  I took it as a point of pride that it was humming with Energy and I didn¡¯t tremble¡­too much.

    Even with my vision blurred by tears, I made out the speaker.  A beast of an ?ttar.  An inch taller and he¡¯d have needed to duck to advance in the stone shaft.  He stood in the center of the tunnel no more than six feet away from me, and I hadn¡¯t heard a thing when he had approached.

    People that big shouldn¡¯t be able to walk so quietly.

    I relaxed as I registered the familiar voice.  I rubbed my eyes clear of the tears and dust and confirmed my suspicion.  My one-time mining partner had sought me out.  There weren¡¯t that many ?ttir on the team with his build, and even fewer with his tier.  Even without seeing his face or hearing his voice, I would have recognized his Marks.  An intricate pattern similar to tribal-style tattoos from home covered most of the skin on his arms.  With their iridescent red sheen, they looked awesome¡ªat least by Earth-standards.  Here they lacked the complexity of many of the other Marks.  They had none of the subtle fractal patterns found in high-level people.  I put him somewhere in the third tier.  That put his status not much higher than mine¡­if we disregarded the whole me being Human.

    ¡°I have a name.  I told you mine, not that you told me yours.¡±

    A slight smirk on his green face faded so quickly that I wasn¡¯t sure I had seen it.  ¡°This is for you.¡° He held out a bag.  ¡°Put some of your ore in here. They¡¯ll need to be tested now that you are getting closer to the vein.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. Thanks.¡±

    I grabbed it, trying to hide my annoyance.  Bringing a bag was considerate, but it was also completely unnecessary.  I had a bag for this reason already.  It was also too early.  We still had left hours in the day.  I wasn¡¯t Dorian, but I still enough left in me to make more progress on this tunnel. Not to mention, taking the ore for testing made no sense.  Dorian had a skill that let him gauge the grade, and he would return before the end of the shift.  Bringing me the bag made no sense at all¡­which explained why he remained standing with an indecisive look on his battle-scarred face even after giving me the bag.

    I sighed.  ¡°Just ask me.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t believe you, but I saw what you just did to the wounds on your face.¡±

    ¡°How long¡ª¡°  While creepy, it didn¡¯t matter.  ¡°I can enhance healing potions. Do you need something?¡± He nodded despite the lack of obvious wounds.  ¡°Then show me.¡±

    He grabbed the bottom of the tunic and lifted it. I barely suppressed my gasp.  His midsection supported a large bandage that had been wrapped around his torso multiple times.  Even then, dark brown patches in a long line spotted his right lateral abdomen.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±  Stupid question.  He couldn¡¯t be, yet he stood as if he had a small scratch.

    ¡°This wound refuses to heal. I¡¯ve tried potions, but it had limited the effect.  I can¡¯t afford to use more.¡±

    I grimaced.  It wasn¡¯t fair really, but as I had come to learn, he wasn¡¯t high enough level to warrant an early resupply like some of his teammates.  He could use what he had, but then he would have nothing for an emergency.  At their rate of excavation, they would hit another monster nest soon.  In the last few days, Dorian had put down four terrorvoles and a juvenile crystalline assassin spider.  The master [Leatherworker] did not lie about their danger.  Even with an advanced warning from a skill, it had injured both of us.

    ¡°Have you gone to the [Healer]?¡±

    ¡°I cannot burden them.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡°

    ¡°I cannot burden them.  Not with something so trivial.¡±  Trivial?  Even without seeing it, that laceration would qualify as life-threatening. ¡°If you cannot help that¡¯s fine. It would be¡­expected¡±

    I bit back a retort. He came here despite his pride¡ªexcuse me¡ªhonor. ¡°I can¡¯t promise that I can help, but I will look at it.¡±  He nodded.  With that, a familiar switch flipped in my mind.  I was no longer a miner.  I fell into a routine that I had long ago burnt into my mind: history, physical, and assessment and plan.  Questions rattled off my tongue in rapid fire.

    ¡°You obtained this when we opened the last vein?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°How did you get it?¡±

    ¡°I was holding the front line.  When the terrorvoles rushed us, the horde pushed us back.  One must have slipped between my legs.  When the line gave ground, I tripped and fell backward. Another of the beasts went for the kill, jumping onto my chest and going for my throat.  I pulled it off me, but it had already sunk its claws in.¡±

    Okay.  Gruesome but straightforward.  One of those claws would be sharp enough to make the injury especially if he had added his strength to the rodent¡¯s rake.

    ¡°Do you think you were bit?¡±

    He shook his head.  Good. Less risk of some brewing infection.

    ¡°How much of your healing potion did you use?¡±

    ¡°About three-quarters.¡±

    Which explained how he didn¡¯t have a new opening to his abdominal cavity.

    ¡°Any other minor wounds left?¡±

    ¡°No, but all but this one healed up.¡±

    That explained why he still sported a significant wound.  The potion didn¡¯t prioritize.

    ¡°When did you last clean the wound?¡±

    ¡°Cleaned?¡±  His tone was puzzled, as if the concept were foreign. ¡°No, it¡¯s been bandaged since I was injured.¡±

    I grimaced.  ¡°Have you looked at the wound to see if it is getting better?¡± He shook his head.  My jaw clenched.  ¡°Have you ever replaced the bandage?¡±

    This time, I couldn¡¯t hold back my scowl at his incredulous look.  Four days.  Four freaking days since we had found that vein.  It was long enough for an infection to set in, and¡­he knew that.

    For the first time, he let his stoic visage crack, and I caught the fear on his face.  I paused, kicking myself.  Two weeks. That¡¯s all it took for me to forget about using bedside manners.  For the first time, I took a moment to see my patient.  He was huge and scarred, but he was young.  The fear made him look even younger.  I stopped myself from applying my priors.  Even if he wasn¡¯t a grizzled veteran, he had seen battle.  He had probably had friends die on him.  Except now he might have an enemy that a sword couldn¡¯t kill.

    I put on a reassuring face.  ¡°It probably isn¡¯t so bad if you have been this functional.  I will be able to tell you more when I can see it.¡± He nodded, and the fear disappeared with it.  ¡°Can you unwrap it on your own?  I need to get some supplies.¡±

    Without a word, he started unwrapping the soiled bandage, and I took that as my cue to grab my improvised medical pack.  Sadly, it contained nothing more than freshwater, some bandages, and a small vial filled with some of my healing potion.  Not much, but it would have to do.  When I returned, he had uncovered his torso, giving me my first look at his wound.

 42. An Offer Accepted - II

    Holy¡­ How was he walking much less, working?

    He should be in bed hooked up to an IV with antibiotics flowing. I schooled my face and gave away none of my concerns.

    Don¡¯t take away hope.Especially not when magic exists in this world.

    I turned him to face the light and crouched down to get a better view.The long laceration had jagged edges. Dried blood, scabs, and far too much dirt clung to the edges.Someone should have washed all that off, but wound care appeared to be a low priority here.Despite that, I could make out signs of healing.The wound had far more granulation tissue than expected given the time frame¡ªthe healing potion at work.However, the edges hadn¡¯t even come close to approximating.The nature of the injury and his constant mining likely contributed to that, but unless I could get the edges together, it wouldn¡¯t heal and would scar, though given the number he sported, he might care little about the latter.

    The swollen redness along the edges of the laceration raised the most concern.The dark green of his skin hid it, but he had induration.I would have to confirm the swelling and inflammation with an exam, but I now operated on the premise that he had an infection until proven otherwise.At least it didn¡¯t reek, and he had no visible pus.I had seen worse, though those patients were non-ambulatory with a wound vac to help with healing.I didn¡¯t even have the tools to properly irrigate and debride the wound.

    I set my pack down and pulled out my freshwater.Next, I should have pulled out two packs of sterile gloves, but I didn¡¯t have alcohol or even soap.So, bare hands and water would have to suffice for sterile prep.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to examine it now. I am going to press on the edges.It may hurt some.¡°

    He said nothing as I worked my way along the wound, but his abdomen tensed regardless.He was guarding.So even if he didn¡¯t say it, it hurt.I took care as I finished my exam.Warm and swollen, the tissue was indurated, but I found no fluctuance, which made an underlying abscess unlikely.

    Lucky with the way he cared for the wound.

    I needed more information on how healing potions functioned.They obviously accelerated the regeneration of whatever injured tissue they encountered, but were their limits on what they could affect¡ªwith microbes being my key concern?His wound was technically a superficial laceration, but for all I knew, it could have gone deeper.I couldn¡¯t know if a claw had penetrated his abdominal cavity, not with the potion¡¯s ability to erase any evidence of that.However, if the potion accelerated all types of growth, and the rodent¡¯s claw seeded his abdomen with pathogens¡­?

    I suppressed a shudder.He didn¡¯t appear septic.Nothing felt ¡°off¡± about him. Still, better to confirm the best I could.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t had any fevers or chills, correct?¡°I pressed on his abdomen.It yielded as much as a stone wall.He really should be lying down for this.¡±Can you please relax your stomach?¡± It gave way to my pressure.I finished palpating the rest of his abdomen.It was reasonably soft.¡°No significant pain?¡±

    ¡°Not with what you are doing.There is some discomfort at the wound when I bend, but that is it.¡±

    ¡°Only discomfort?¡±I couldn¡¯t keep the skepticism out of my voice.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    My eyes narrowed, but he didn¡¯t correct himself.That didn¡¯t seem possible.He should be in a bed, incapacitated and writhing in agony.I gave the wound one last pass, pressing on inflamed edges.It really was filthy.How could he stand¡ª

    ¡°Do you have a pain reduction skill?¡±His whole body became rigid.

    What?I hadn¡¯t been pressed that hard¡ªAw, crap.That was probably sensitive information here.

    Way to build rapport, Daniel.

    ¡°Don¡¯t answer that,¡± I hurried.¡°And I apologize for asking.It was inappropriate.¡±I waited, and he relaxed a bit, though not to the degree as before my question.

    So, forgiven but not forgotten.

    I needed to set expectations.¡°I don¡¯t know how things work with your [Healers], but where I am from, my class takes an oath.As part of it, I will keep whatever you tell me regarding your health confidential.¡±I raised a hand to forestall a response.¡°You are not obligated to tell me anything now or in the future.I will treat you regardless.I always will.That is part of my job¡ªclass.Also, I am new to this area and have much to learn about your people.If I ever overstep, please tell me.¡± I pulled out a potion from my pouch.¡°Now, let¡¯s take care of the issue that brought you here.

    ¡°I have one,¡± he replied.

    His potion was only a quarter full, and I would be damned before I took away his only backup.

    ¡°Sure, but I have more, and the most dangerous thing I am facing is self-inflicted wounds.¡±Still, he hesitated.¡°Look, this wound is old.I don¡¯t know how much I can help.Let me test it with mine, if it works, we can use yours. Does that seem acceptable?¡±

    He nodded reluctantly.

    ¡°Good.Now lie down and try to relax your stomach. Then we can get started.¡±

    He did as I asked, and I prepared my supplies.His expression at washing my hands again was amusing if disheartening.Such an easy and basic hygiene method¡­

    I leaned in and found a spot to test.I put a single fingertip on the surface of the potion. The characteristic tingling spread along my skin.

    Did the intensity of the sensation mark its potency?Another question for another time.Focus on the job, Daniel.

    ¡°I am going to apply a drop. This may burn or hurt.¡±

    A single drop clung to my finger.This would be the smallest amount I had ever used.I held my finger inches from the edge of his wound.Would it be enough?You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    I funneled Energy into [Enhance Medicinal] to compensate.As I increased the Energy, the drop vibrated until it fell from my fingertip.As the distance increased, so did the strain from using my skill.I almost lost the connection, but I managed to lower my finger to his skin in time to avoid losing the connection.The healing effects immediately tried to work on everything at once, but I managed to corral it.

    The wound started to heal, and I couldn¡¯t help but frown.The healing differed from a fresh wound.The redness along the wound¡¯s edge had worsened.I slid my finger over the length of the wound to get a better handle on the potion¡¯s effect on the surrounding area.Some of the tissue had regenerated, but a generalized increase in swelling had accompanied that.Heat radiated from under the skin.By healing the wound, I had worsened the surrounding erythema. Worse, I picked up a ¡°wrongness¡± that I could only describe as an acrid tang on the back of my tongue.

    A wonderful scale you¡¯re creating, Daniel.I bet it would totally fly through peer review.

    I wanted to laugh, but I¡ªand I would bet all my colleagues¡ªwould have the same ultimate concern: the swelling could signify an accelerating infection, not just healing.

    ¡°¡ªso little.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I stopped staring at the wound and paid attention to my patient.

    ¡°I said that it seems to have worked despite how little you used.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I worry that I am causing an infection.¡±I sighed, the word clearly translating.¡°If I do more, I might cause the wound to fester.See the redness. It¡¯s worse.¡±

    ¡°That is normal.It happens from time to time.It never is an issue.¡±

    ¡°How about in wounds this old?¡±

    ¡°I do not know.Most have seen a [Healer] before this point.¡±

    ¡°Which you cannot do?¡±I looked up in askance but got nothing. ¡°Okay.I¡¯m willing to try again, but as long as you understand that this wound may fester¡ª¡°

    ¡°What choice do I have?¡±

    A very clear one.

    ¡°I won¡¯t pretend to understand the complexities of your culture and your decision, but if this does fester, you may still need to go to the [Healer].¡±

    ¡°But you think you can heal the wound completely?¡±

    ¡°Yes.I can enhance the potion.It isn¡¯t that deep, but I will need to clean the wound.¡±¡ªSomething that I should have done from the start¡ª¡°That will likely burn.¡±

    ¡°Do what you must.¡±

    I nodded.I grabbed the clean bandages from my bag and started to clean the wound. The wet bandages removed the dirt and old blood caked in the wound. I picked away at the scab, getting underneath and exposing the raw flesh. It took the rest of my water to wash out the wound.It wasn¡¯t saline, but it did the job.The tissue lost its peppered coat.

    Half my bandages later, I sat back on my heels.¡°You bore that well.¡±It should have caused agony to someone back at home.He had flinched once.¡°If you are ready, I¡¯m going to try this again.¡°

    I took another drop and tried it on the wound. The wrongness was there, but it was far less, so much less, that I could, with effort, restrict the potion from working on it.I tried to smile, but my mind always found a way to tarnish any success.

    Why didn¡¯t I clean this wound in the first place?

    I had let the idea of magical healing seduce me into taking an easy solution, but potions had limits.

    Basics, Daniel.Basics. You can¡¯t forget them, especially when you have nothing else.

    I could save self-recrimination for another time.For now, he deserved my full attention.

    I tested another drop, and the tissue regenerated, filling swaths of the cavity without any complications.

    Much better. I can do this.

    I studied the wound.It had come a long way from the swollen, angry, red slash across his torso.It still needed some work, but I had made dramatic progress with just a few dabs of the potion.

    Switch to his, or one more drop?Easy answer: the more I can save him, the better.

    ¡°This is going to hurt.¡±He grunted but didn¡¯t contract his abdominal muscles as I pinched both sides of the wound to approximate the edges. I took a heavy, two-finger dab of the sparkling, crimson liquid.I placed my fingers on the top corner of the wound.Pulled by gravity, the tiny rivulets cascaded through the valley of torn flesh.However, like water on parched earth, the potion threatened damage instead of rejuvenation.

    I traced the jagged course of the wound, calling forth the mysterious power [Enhance Medicinal] granted me over the iridescent, red liquid.The skill made manipulating the potion laughably easy¡ªunlike times before.Amazingly, it allowed me to affect the potion as it trickled deeper into the wound and further from my finger.The liquid acted as a conduit, letting me project my will over a distance that surpassed my limits when illuminating a light stone.Thank goodness, because the potion needed significant direction.

    As the potion infused the depths of the wound, the acrid taste grew in the back of my mouth. Forcing the potion to avoid the ¡°wrongness¡± and only work on the ?ttarsk tissue took another level of concentration.With each passing second, the dull ache behind my eyes grew into a throb.However, the wound was healing.The wrongness¡ªno, it had to be bacteria multiplying¡ªincreased, but at a rate far too slow to concern me.As I became more familiar with the process, excluding the bacteria became easier.

    In seconds, the redness faded to the natural dark green color of his skin.I released the Energy and admired my work.

    Not bad if I do say so myself.

    I walked my fingers along the edge. Again, no fluctuance.Not even a hint of erythema.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you will avoid scarring, probably because of the age of the wound, but it looks like it will be small.¡±Even a plastic surgeon couldn¡¯t beat that, and I had only used a large dab.

    He looked down in disbelief.Even touching the healed skin didn¡¯t fully dispel it. ¡°How? You didn¡¯t even use my potion.¡±

    I showed him the bottle. ¡°I barely used any of mine.¡±

    ¡°But you said you would.¡±

    Too much anger underpinned those words.He needed the potion more than I did.I did him a favor.

    Is this because I¡¯m Human?No. Jumping there is presumptive.

    I forced myself to unclench my jaw.I replayed our discussion about the potion in my mind.He had shown reluctance to use my potion, and I had ignored the subtle signs.I had screwed up, stepping on a cultural landmine because of inattention.

    ¡°Have I offended you?¡±

    ¡°No. Worse¡ªyou put me in your debt.¡±

    No good deed goes unpunished.No, Daniel.It¡¯s your job to provide culturally appropriate care, even if it¡¯s a challenge.

    Still, they were a proud people. Too proud.This honor would grow old quickly, even if, as Dorian implied, it was the only thing that kept this camp from devolving into conflict.

    How the hell do I salvage this?

    ¡°I¡¯m so¡ª¡±

    Wait a second.Despite what he thought, this hadn¡¯t been a one-way interaction.If my negotiation with Kyria Rhaptis meant anything, experience mattered¡ªa lot.

    ¡°I think you have misunderstood the situation.¡± I raised a hand. ¡°And before you object, let me explain.I pointed to the thin, dark, green line. ¡°This was not guaranteed to occur. I am quite certain now that potions increase the risk of infe¡ªfestering.¡± I started counting off fingers.¡°First, that was new knowledge for me.Second, healing you let me learn how to combat this.And third, I think this will push me significantly closer towards a level.¡±

    He didn¡¯t appear convinced.

    ¡°Please believe me when I say this: the more I think about it, I should be asking you for forgiveness.You bore more risk than you think.While I got your consent initially, the risk changed midway.I didn¡¯t even ask for your permission to proceed.¡±

    ¡°As was your right as a [Healer]¡±

    ¡°That is not how the [Healers] where I¡¯m from work.I did you a disservice, one I¡¯m hoping you will forgive.¡±

    He studied me for a long time.I sat on my toes waiting, stilling any urge to fidget.¡°You have a strange sense of honor, but I can agree to that.¡±He stood up, his concerns apparently mollified.

    ¡°If there are any more wounds, please let me know.¡±

    He nodded.¡°I may take you up on that offer, but we will use my potion from the start.¡±

    I nodded.¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°It was an honor, Daniel.¡±He paused as if trying to come to a decision. ¡°And my name is R?gnor ?terj?rt.¡±

    With that, he walked away, leaving me with a pile of bloody bandages, an empty flask of water, and something I hadn¡¯t felt in far too long.Purpose.

 43. Another Customeréˆ¥æ“¡r, Patient

    ¡°You okay?¡± asked Dorian.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±  This short, terse response to Dorian¡¯s first question of the day had become my standard answer¡ªone that had become more and more unbelievable because of my deteriorating state on many recent mornings.  I could no longer hide all the bruises I had accrued.  They numbered more than anyone could justify from mining.

    At least I could obtain water unscathed.  That saved a trip and dirty clothes.  No, getting water was the easy part.  Instead, I struggled with avoiding their retribution.  Somehow, they always knew when I went to the well, and they would find me later and make me pay the price. It was as if they had eyes on the location 24/7, which knowing them, they probably did.  They may be [Miners], but a few likely had friends in the guard.

    Dorian had become more and more concerned, and rightfully so, since I could no longer hide my injuries.  None of the beatings rivaled the first, though I could not tell if that was because they had to keep them quick or they didn¡¯t want me to die.  I had tried to limit my time alone, but with my longhouse so far from the others, they had ample opportunities to jump me as long as they kept it quick.  The injuries I sustained never exceeded what a potion could heal.  However, the assaults had occurred enough times that I couldn¡¯t afford to keep using a potion to erase all my injuries¡ªnot that I would.  Waltzing around like I had greater ¡°access¡± to more healing potions than they did pissed them off royally.  Of course, I didn¡¯t have a secret stockpile, but my skill made it seem that way. Unfortunately, it had taken me twice to learn that lesson.  So now I focus on healing the visible injuries just enough to appease them and not raise Dorian¡¯s suspicion too much.

    ¡°Dorian, I''m fine.  Really.  The blood draws are taking a toll.¡±  Again, not a lie, but definitely not the whole truth.

    He grunted but didn''t say anything.  I debated speaking up, but then Kyria Rhaptis¡¯s words ran through my mind.  I wouldn''t drag him into this, not yet.  I still had another play: getting an Oresian [Mage] to dig me a well or do whatever magic they used to create water.

    I picked up my pick and gestured to the end of the tunnel.  ¡°I got this. You can check out the new expansions.¡±

    ¡°Alright then.¡±

    He turned and left.  I waited another few minutes before finally letting out the cough that I had been holding back.  It was deep and wet and developed a rattle when I got going.  I didn¡¯t need an x-ray to know it wasn¡¯t good.

    Damn lack of immunity.  Though, I can¡¯t believe it took me this long to catch something.

    Unfortunately, that is where my stroke of luck ended.  I had no good options to treat my illness.  Previously, the potions had only slightly alleviated my cough.  They healed the injured lungs, but they didn¡¯t seem to affect the infection.  Rather, they would have worsened it if not for my skill.

    If I had caught things earlier, would the potions have treated it?

    As if to laugh at my plight, another cough overtook me.

    A deep voice spoke from behind me.  ¡°You sure he is capable?¡±

    I jumped at the sound and turned to face the speaker.  Two ?ttir¡ªone I recognized, stood six feet from me.  R?gnor had brought a friend, who, based on his stiff posture and crossed arms, had come reluctantly.

    Another coughing fit overtook me, but they waited as I got myself under control.  In a break in a long coughing streak, I found a chance to respond. ¡°I am.¡±  ?ttir didn¡¯t make social calls.  They could only be here for one thing, and I needed to remove my potential patient¡¯s doubts.  ¡°I had to conserve my potions.¡±

    R?gnor¡¯s eyes narrowed.  ¡°You have not reported any major encounters with monsters.¡±

    ¡°Monsters aren¡¯t the only danger in this camp for a Human.¡±  His frown deepened, but I didn¡¯t have the time nor the inclination to explain.  While he was at least a step above most of the other ?ttir, most of his brethren weren¡¯t much better than the Volki.  Sure, their disdain showed through mostly by ignoring me, but the leader of our company did try to kill via Aether toxicity.  ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.  You are here for healing, and I can enhance your potion.¡±

    The other ?ttar hesitated, and R?gnor huffed, ¡°You may doubt his honor, but do not doubt mine.  He has helped¡ªat least hear him out.¡±

    The ?ttar¡¯s frown deepened, but he relented.  ¡°How does this work?¡±

    ¡°I will take a bit of your potion and apply it to your wound.  I have a skill, [Enhance Medicinal], that allows me to amplify its potency.¡±

    ¡°How much will this cost me?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±  That earned me a scowl.  ¡°It is fair.  You are providing the potion.  It doesn¡¯t take me that much work.¡±

    ¡°Much is not nothing.  Why are you doing this?¡±

    ¡°Because it is the right thing to do?¡±  I let out a sigh and threw up my hands.  What made them hate Humans so much?  ¡°Do you need a selfish answer?  Then here¡¯s one.  It will help me level.  If you need an even more selfish answer, I need to build a reputation as someone who has a valuable service.¡±

    He nodded as if that was the most reasonable explanation he had ever heard.  It took everything I had not to scream out in frustration.  I would need to learn more about their concept of honor if I was going to interact with them and stay sane.

    ¡°Now show me the wound.¡±

    He lifted his shirt revealing a large bandage that wrapped around his chest, and it, like every other bandage in this place, was soiled.

    "Can I take this off?"

    He grunted in affirmation.  I undid the knot and carefully removed the bandage.  Unlike R?gnor¡¯s wound, this one was on his back.  The lacerations also weren¡¯t as deep, but it was much more inflamed.  The entire skin radiated warmth without touching it.

    ¡°I am going to press on it.¡±  My exam confirmed my worries.  While there weren¡¯t clear signs of an abscess, it wouldn¡¯t be much longer if it wasn¡¯t cleaned.  ¡°This is beginning to fester.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Then we are done here.¡±

    ¡°What?  No. I can still do it.  I just need to wash it out and use a bit more of your potion.¡±  I¡¯d also need to use a lot more Energy, though he didn¡¯t need to know that.  It would have killed the deal in an instant.

    At my response, he and R?gnor dropped into a quick conversation.  They spoke in a different language than Common.  The languages shared a few words, but those I caught suggested an argument about continuing our deal.

    ¡°Let me try. I know potions can increase festering, but I will use a minuscule amount.  I will have complete control of its action with my skill.  Also, if you don¡¯t do something, this will get worse, and you will need a [Healer].¡±

    My argument blatantly exploited their pathological avoidance of utilizing their [Healers], but sometimes you needed to play dirty to do right by your patient.  And it worked.  He agreed to a trial.

    I grabbed a clean cloth I had tucked away for wound care and a waterskin.  ¡°If you have any pain suppression skills, I would use one now.¡±

    I poured the cold water onto the wound.  He flinched, though probably more from the shock of the temperature than the pain because he didn¡¯t let out even the tiniest of sounds when I cleaned out the wound, which, like R?gnor¡¯s, was filthy.  I threw the dirty piece of cloth¡ªa strip from a bedsheet once used by a former occupant of my longhouse¡ªonto the ground and grabbed another one.

    A waste, but without something to boil them in, I didn¡¯t dare reuse them.

    I worked the next wet rag deep into the wound. It was definitely the beginning of an abscess.  Cleaning the dirt from the wound released an unpleasant but familiar stench.  I didn¡¯t dare focus my perception on it.  Just standing near it, I could pick up on the ¡°wrongness¡± pouring out of his wound.

    I can¡¯t believe I am doing this again.

    I had gained plenty of practice at cleaning out wounds during my surgical intern year.  Of all the things that I missed when I left that specialty, wound care was not one of them.  Still, he needed this.  Without cleaning, the dirty wound would need more potion and, more importantly, Energy to work.  I couldn¡¯t afford that extra mental drain.  I debrided the wound, picking at the large chunks with my makeshift bandage and washing away the filth with water.

    Finished, I tossed another filthy rag onto the floor.  ¡°Alright, it¡¯s clean,¡± or as clean as I could make it when lacking sterile saline and gauze.

    I took a deep breath, studying the wound once more.  Even when cleaned, the ¡°wrongness¡± lingered.  I didn¡¯t have to try to detect it.  Just focusing on it nearly made me gag as a sudden foul taste surged in the back of my mouth.  When I did focus on it, I could almost make out a dark, haze coming from it.

    Am I developing a type of synesthesia?  Or is my mind playing tricks on me?

    I needed more data, and I had a way to get more in front of me.

    Does this cross any ethical lines?  Do I need to tell him about my possible hallucinations?

    I couldn¡¯t see a negative impact, and as it was, I had a tenuous rapport with my patient.  I reached out a hand.  ¡°Let¡¯s start.¡°

    R?gnor placed the potion in my palm.  I took it, popping the top.  I brought all my mental energies to bear as I applied a drop to the wound. Even with starting as far from the infection as I could, the potion accelerated the infection.  The reek that I had eliminated with cleaning the wound returned. Though just a sliver of its original potency, it joined with the bitter taste in the back of my mouth.  Even though I was prepared, the combination roiled my stomach, and I had to fight to keep my last meal down.

    I blinked once, then twice.  Yep, that dark aura around the wound had intensified.

    So, probably not a hallucination.  Not that it matters right now.

    My course of action didn¡¯t change. I funneled more Energy to suppress the potion¡¯s effect on the bacteria.  My head and then arm tingled in an increasingly familiar manner as the Energy draw increased.  I applied another dab.  This time, the potion¡¯s regeneration rate slowed.  The wound began to knit, though far more slowly than with R?gnor.  Corralling its effect to the ?ttarsk tissue consumed too much of my mental bandwidth.  I couldn¡¯t empower the potion to speed healing while still suppressing bacterial growth and ensuring proper wound healing.

    The mental drain, however, paled in comparison to the profound sense of satisfaction from healing him.  I savored this degree of improvement.  It didn¡¯t come often enough¡ªor ever.  I couldn¡¯t remember the last time it had.

    I spent most of my waking hours in the hospital.  Most people that I managed needed weeks, sometimes months, to recover.  Of course, I had discharged them long before that.  Hospitals had become places for acute illness, not recovery.  Acute rehab hospitals and skilled nursing filled that role if they couldn¡¯t go home.

    I shipped¡ªdischarged¡ªso many people to one of those facilities, especially as a neurology resident.  Neurologists rarely got the glory.  Sometimes we got lucky with tPA or a course of steroids¡­sometimes.  But we didn¡¯t get the big wins like I had during my surgical internship and even my internal medicine residency.

    It shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise.  I knew that neurologists don¡¯t tend to fix things¡ªat least not the serious illnesses.  Still, you didn¡¯t know how much you¡¯d miss something until it was gone.  Maybe my attendings doing outpatient neurology had a different view.  Their interactions with patients as snapshots over weeks-to-months, not hours-to-days.  However, stuck in the hospital, I patched them up enough so that I could get them out the door¡ªwhether a lower level of care or home.  Dispo was king, and nothing made residents and admins grumpier than a patient stuck on the floor with no disposition.  So, as I literally cured¡ªcured!¡ªa severe wound over minutes instead of inching the dial toward full recovery, I couldn¡¯t help but hold on tight to a feeling I had long forgotten.

    I didn¡¯t even need that much potion.  The amount I had used, though without a doubt generous, had healed the majority of the wound.  However, it did leave me in a slight bind.  I circled around to address the ?ttar.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you an option here. It¡¯s not fully healed, but a single dab would probably be overkill. You can leave it this way, or I can heal it. I don¡¯t know how valuable your potion is to you at this time, but it won¡¯t take much.¡°

    He twisted and flexed his back. He moved as if he still didn¡¯t have an open wound. ¡°This will do.¡°

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    He grunted.  ¡°Barring any surprises, I¡¯ll be back to normal by the end of the day.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow.  Enhanced regeneration?  Either way, I would need to develop a better way to judge the doses.  ¡°If you say so.  But you have to promise me you¡¯ll change the bandages each day. Only reuse them if you boil them.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Germ theory was beyond them, but a basic understanding of wound care?  Was that an unreasonable expectation?  Even ancient Egyptians had used methods to reduce infection.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t keep them clean, they¡¯ll fester.  All wounds should be cleaned with at least water and bandaged with only clean bandages.¡±

    R?gnor picked up on my annoyance. ¡°What you recommend is new to us.  The Mother has graced our people with enough [Healers] to take cure of injuries and create potions and other remedies.¡±  He almost spit out the next words. ¡°To go this long with such limited access to [Healers] is¡­rare.  However, it seems to be something that you have much experience with.¡±

    Is something overwhelming the [Healers]?  If so, what?

    My patient snarled, ¡°Brother, you speak too much.¡± He glanced at me, lips pressed flat. ¡°Despite the help, he is not kin.¡±

    Since he likely had multiple levels on R?gnor, the conversation went the only direction it could.  R?gnor fell silent, and I didn¡¯t push.  My patient studied me in the dim light of the tunnel before nodding.  ¡°I will remember your care.¡±

    ¡°Of course.  Again, keep those bandages clean.  I can get new ones if you don¡¯t have any.  And wash out any dirt that accumulates in the wound.¡±

    Neither responded as they walked away. I let them go before letting out the cough that had been brewing. It wrecked me when it came.  A firestorm in my lungs.  With a hand on a wall, I steadied myself as I hacked up a lung.

    Unfortunately, there was truth in that euphemism.  Red tinged my spittle and sputum.  Beaten, drained, and with a searing pain in my lungs, I was a mess.  Still, none of that managed to diminish the wide smile on my face.  I had healed another person!

    I coughed again before taking another sip of potion. Now I just needed to figure out how to heal myself.  If not that, I would need to make inroads fast to get the V¨ªsir to cure me before I died from a stupid infection.

 44. The Cost of Living

    I walked back from the Commons to my house as quickly as I could. I tried to keep my mood up, but my previous successes with the ?ttir a few days ago no longer tasted as sweet. I had underestimated the toll from amplifying potions, mining, frequent blood draws, and a brewing infection. Brewing. I laughed to myself. This was beyond brewing. It was full-blown pneumonia¡ªconsolidated to one lobe, but still a pneumonia. I was functioning only because it was a walking pneumonia¡ªan atypical microbe. Ha! Like that classification system still held. What microbe wasn¡¯t atypical in this brave new world?

    That brought another laugh. Then a cough. My body couldn¡¯t handle rushing, and I didn¡¯t really need to. While meeting with Kyria Rhaptis limited my time this evening, I didn¡¯t need to get more water tonight. If I conserved, I had a stock of water to last the next few days. I also had a plan: try to convince an Oresian [Mage] to create a well. I could wait, but could I guarantee that a [Mage] would help me? How could I plan ahead when the world was against me and the end always felt near?

    Life was resilient but also fragile. I had seen that in the hospital wards countless times. Yet, here life felt downright cheap¡­and precarious. One wrong move or piss off the wrong person, and you were done. If I waited for the perfect opportunity, I would never find it. Hell, even waiting for a good one would push my luck, especially since it had become open season on harassing the Human.

    The Volki had collectively decided to make my life miserable. While the beatings remained limited to when I took water, I received random pushes and body checks when walking or waiting in line. Those acts probably weren¡¯t even coordinated, just the norm after a few Volki started the trend. Fortunately, the ?ttir never did anything so overt, though intentional or not, they had boxed me out of the Commons by their bulk more than once. The only respite came when an Oresian was around, but that semblance of civility was always short-lived. It was literally killing me not sticking to Dorian like glue, but what choices did I have? I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that crossing Kyria Rhaptis would have far worse consequences.

    Of course, with safety just steps out of reach, a familiar, guttural voice called out, ¡°You haven¡¯t figured it out yet, have you, Human?¡°

    I stopped, my longhouse only two hundred yards away. From the corner of my eye, I could make out the people streaming toward the grand hall, but it didn¡¯t matter. My tormentors knew better than to risk possible witnesses. If they moved now, no one around would care enough about my plight to do something. While I could run, I would never make it to my cabin before they caught me, and the ¡°punishment¡± would only be worse.

    I turned around. ¡°You know I need water. I don¡¯t have another option.¡°

    Backed by another three Volki, their leader smiled. The low light gave his sharp features even more menace. ¡°I doubt that¡ªnot with the way you suck up to the Oresiani. I am sure you could ask your little pretty boy for some help. ¡±

    I ignored the crude gesture he had made with his hands. ¡°I¡¯d rather not owe anybody.¡±

    ¡°Well you owe us.¡° He advanced, cracking his knuckles.

    It was clear what was coming next. This wasn¡¯t my first rodeo. I stood there as he pulled back his fist, and for the first time, I paid attention to his Marks. I now had more practice reading them, and this guy had not cracked the third tier. In this place, people would consider him the dredges of the Volkski group, and here he was with his even lower-leveled friends picking on Tier-I Human.

    How big and important they must feel. Bullies. Weak, but acting tough. How utterly Human. But what options did I have? If I run, I get beaten. If I beg, I get beaten. If I sit here, I get beaten. If I fight¡­?

    A cool rush flowed back from my eyes and down my spine. I blinked¡ªor tried to. The fist, once a blur, had slowed to a crawl. If I didn¡¯t move, it would still hit me. Instinct flickered. I tilted my head back¡ªor tried to.

    Then the world snapped back to normal.

    My head tilted back, and the punch flew past my face. Time slowed again, though this time without the cool rush marking the use of Energy. It was the slow motion that occurred when watching a plate slip from your hand to fall towards the floor or a car not slowing fast enough to avoid the one in front of it that had just slammed its brakes. Surprise covered the leader¡¯s face as his momentum carried him off balance. Where the head goes, the body follows. Unfortunately, mine was going backward. My feet did not get the memo about the sudden dodge. I lost balance as I tipped backward, but one of my feet managed to slip between my assailant¡¯s legs as he stepped forward in his follow-through.

    He went down. Somehow I didn¡¯t.

    The three goons stared at their boss face down in the muddy grass before looking back up at me. Nobody moved, not even the leader of this gang, from the shock of the scene.

    ¡°Crap,¡± I whispered. I was gonna pay for this one¡­if they caught me.

    I ran.

    They caught me.

    Claws bit deep, hooking under my right clavicle. My pursuer stopped me with ease. He spun me around.

    I came face to face with the gang¡¯s leader. His smile widened revealing his far too pointy teeth. Mud covered his face and sharp nose.

    ¡°Finally some spine. I should thank you. The thrill of a hunt makes things so much more fun. Of course, it also makes it harder to control our aggression.¡°

    He cocked his arm back. A cool rush cut through the throb in my skull. The world slowed again, but I had no chance of dodging now. I had no strength, no leverage. I tried to block, but whether a miner or [Miner], he was used to moving heavy loads. His fist hit like a hammer. It shattered my guard, and I was out.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ***

    I couldn¡¯t remember what came next. I didn¡¯t want to. I had been on the other side of this before¡ªnot a beating like this but rather its aftermath. The memory of my report to the surgery fellow came back to me. A twenty-three-year-old male with no past medical history presenting with severe traumatic brain injury, multiple rib fractures, lung and liver contusions, a ruptured spleen¡­ There was more. It was a messy course. I never found out why or how he found himself on the wrong side of a bat, not that it mattered. He didn¡¯t make it. Neither would I¡ª

    Something opened my mouth and jammed a bottle in it. I didn¡¯t resist. I knew what would follow. Not my first rodeo.

    I swallowed the tangy mixture, trying not to choke. When a second vial pushed against my lips, I drank its contents, too. As soon as it hit my mouth, the regenerative liquid had an immediate effect, clearing much of the haze from my mind. It let me judge in my current state. Based on the Energy radiating out from my stomach, I had consumed close to three-quarters of a whole potion. My bottle had less than half in it. He used somewhere from a quarter to half of his or one of his underlings¡¯ potion on me. He wanted me alive. Almost flattering in a sadistic sort of way. My continued torment was worth up to half a potion.

    Why not just end me? Were they afraid of the Alfa¡¯s wrath? Or was I just entertainment? A convenient outlet for their pathetic frustrations?

    They laughed as they walked away, leaving me lying in the dirt. They may have wanted to prolong their fun, but this potion was doing the opposite. Seconds after swallowing it, the infection in my lungs had begun lapping up the potion from my blood, spreading to other lobes and, more concerning, my blood. I didn¡¯t need the feeling of ¡°wrongness¡± that now pervaded my body to know this was bad.

    My heart found another gear. Thank goodness for all the practice with those two ?ttir. I had one shot at this, and though the trauma added a new element, I flexed my dwindling reserves to shunt all the healing to the places I needed it. With the infection spreading, I wouldn¡¯t be able to block its metabolizing the potion. I had to take another tack: resource denial. I need to use the potion before it, or I could become septic.

    The effort taxed my strained mind and body. A chill deeper than the cold from the mud I rested in blossomed in my chest. Hammers struck the inside of my skull. Yet, bones knit. Internal bleeding stopped. My breaths deepened. My burgeoning fever broke.

    When I had ensured all traces of infection remained localized to my lung, I dragged myself to my knees, then my feet. I wheezed, then coughed. The pain in my ribs almost brought me back to the ground. They may no longer contain fractures, but aching ribs would plague me for some time.

    The price for preventing a raging infection.

    I staggered a few feet towards my longhouse before I noticed that I was not alone. R?gnor stood in the distance, watching me stumble toward my home. He shook his head before he turned and walked away.

    A heat built inside my chest making the pain fade. Emotionless as the ?ttir were, the disgust on his face was plain as day. Disgust! Over what? A Human too weak to defend himself? Had he watched the whole thing or just the aftermath? Either way, he had done nothing¡ªwhich also had to be what he thought of me.

    I hate this world.

    Every indulgence cost me. I paid the price today because I had gone on an extra water run so that I could take a bath a few days ago. And why? I had gone less than a week without a bath. Everyone here was filthy. Except, it was just too much. Too much for my civilized tendencies.

    Stupid.

    I had left all pretense of civilization behind when I went through that portal. I need to learn that, or I would get myself killed¡ªand not just from more beatings. This world wasn¡¯t safe. I needed to hoard every resource and grow eyes in the back of my head. Yet I struggled to forgo the simple luxury of a bath.

    As soon as I entered my house, I kicked off my boots and barred the door. I headed straight to the back. I eyed my dwindling stores of water. Worse, tonight had done more than injure me. It guaranteed that I would be getting water sooner because I needed to see Kyria Rhaptis, and I could not appear before her with mud-caked clothes and hair. Or could I? She wouldn¡¯t care too much, but if Dorian found out¡­

    I should save this. I should. But I couldn¡¯t¡ªI needed this, even if I paid for it later. I would just have to expedite finding an Oresian [Mage].

    I poured water over my head to wash off the dirt. I stifled a groan as the cold water hit my skin. Goosebumps sprouted all over my skin, and my body shivered. With the majority of the grime gone, I moved as quickly as I could to pour water into the tub until the runes caved into the wood glowed. They would heat the water over time, and I willed them to go faster.

    I dropped in and let my body soak up the heat. It really was a waste, but it was a delightful one. It also afforded me the chance to see the toll I paid for this luxury.

    Brown, green, and purple spots speckled my chest. The healing had left the multiple contusions at different stages of resolution. They provided a good example of how the potions worked. The potions just accelerated the healing process. The bruises went through the typical transformation of colors as the blood products broke down. It was fun and quite informative to watch the process. The research applications of accelerated tissue growth and recovery¡­

    I let out a sigh and leaned back. Out of reflex more than need, I pushed on my ribs. They hurt, but they weren¡¯t broken. I knew that for a fact. I could perceive everything about my body. I had a literal map of my body in my mind.

    When did this happen? I could now rotate my entire body¡ªor parts of it¡ªalong each axis, zoom in or out, or page through slice by slice. It was as if I was looking at images from CT or MRI, though far, far better.

    It was as amazing as it was unnerving.

    I touched my temple. Had my Mark grown? It had to make all of this possible. Images of the sliver of my Mark dancing in the solution Kyria Rhaptis created flashed through my mind. It grew. It changed. It responded to my thoughts...my thoughts!

    Just how deeply connected were we?

    When I pushed my limits, my brain hurt. It didn¡¯t matter if I was manipulating the images from an internal scan or enhancing potions. When I overdid it, it let me know. It also seemed to adapt. Something had happened with the first punch in that fight, but what? The world slowing down wasn¡¯t natural, yet it happened at just the right time. Something inside me had acted. I wasn¡¯t controlling it, but could I?

    I needed a specimen to study. I snorted. That¡¯s not happening anytime soon. I sighed. I would just have to figure out how to scan someone else¡¯s body. Imaging was one of the keystones of modern medicine. If I could reproduce it¡­

    I rested my head back on the edge of the tub. I needed to go to Kyria Rhaptis soon, but this was so relaxing. It would stay at this perfect temperature as long as the water stayed in the tube even when left overnight. I had experimented to confirm. Mornings were much better when you could wash your face with warm water.

    I coughed, and this time, I finally cleared my chest of some sputum. If only I could justify staying in this bath. Unfortunately, while heat did help clear the lungs, its benefits didn¡¯t outweigh the pain of skipping my other task. All good things had to come to an end.

    I dragged myself out of the tub and got dressed in one of my dwindling number of sets of clean, borrowed clothes that fit. For so many reasons, my situation wasn¡¯t sustainable. Maybe Kyria Rhaptis would have a way out. I could only hope.