Living in different worlds (no chanter) - The Yufuwa Talent Dispatch Life of the Regenerating Wizard

It's hard to tell the wizard's age.

No matter how old you are, you are young without darkness, or you look old, but you are rarely well when you do.

Does the magic produced from a demon the size of a difference from a civilian make it so, or is that simply the kind of blood that has been taken in since ancient times?

Nobody's done any research before, but the truth, I think, is probably the former.

Because the 38-year-old former wizard who lost that demon looked like a shitty old man by his side.

"He's a former lieutenant of Nasurf, he's lost his demon 15 years ago"

Former Lt. Nasurf, who was put in a wheelchair, took the time to lift his trembling right arm.

His eyes are harsh but his eyes are dropping, apparently he's going to say hello.

Could this worn out man withstand the regeneration of his demons?

I've also grown organs from the belly of slaves, but the subjects were young slaves.

Anxiety.

So I decided to do something about it first from his health.

Big deal of 100 gold coins, hurry up and go around.

I mean, you just have to do things with slaves.

Let them eat and heal, and let them eat again, and heal again.

But this time the patient has no teeth, so it's tough.

proteins, amino acids and vitamins.

Roughly, but make liquid meals while calculating.

Anyway, if you don't put meat on it, we won't talk about it.

Even I was surprised after I grew my own foot, which was no longer a situation.

Excess muscle and fat didn't have enough meat, and what a bit of a shrink in my back.

I was eating all over dinner and it worked out in a few days, but that was a little nightmare.

Anyway, we need a foundation for regeneration.

It's a disappointing foundation.

"No, let me eat them all. It won't heal."

"But what my husband can eat in agony is watching and not sneaking..."

"You don't have to regenerate the demon to feed it. You're weak until you die, and this is where you work so hard."

"I know that..."

How dare you deceive the crying squire?

Let Mr. Swelling Nasurf eat the meal and cure it in the order of digestion, circulation and respiratory tract from where the meat came on.

Bones, too, because they were scurvy.

It wasn't strange that the bone density was so low that the spine was having compression fractures at its own weight.

But the fact that you have money and you didn't do these regenerative treatments, did this guy already have a cut in his life?

Or is military pensions not that expensive?

Was it also debt?

Well, I don't care.

I just cure it.

The treatment was also difficult, to say the least, but acceptable.

Basically, I left the care to the squire, and it took me two weeks to do it slowly.

The time I spent face-to-face with the patient wasn't much in itself, so I was easy on myself.

That's about it, well, okay.

But it seems that the demon was a very important organ for humans.

Most of Mr. Nasurf's digestive system had some kind of disorder, which was difficult to cure.

Maybe humans are bottoming up the functions of other organs with magic.

By the way, a demon is an organ, so when you try to transplant it, you get a rejection and die normally.

It seems that Lahein is a field that the dark magicians are studying professionally, so there's no information coming around here.

In doing so, Mr. Nasurf's body regained vertigo and health, and he was able to hold a spoon himself.

Is this gonna be okay now?

It's time for you to heal your demons and go home.

It was clear on the day of surgery.

No school, no holidays, no plays I want to see.

Well, but when we're done early, shall we roll it out somewhere? It was a good day.

"Doctor... am I really going to heal...?

"It's healing, I'm done for today. Why are you doing this, Dad?"

"Daddy said..."

Mr. Nasurf, who woke up his upper body, stares at me with a smile on his face like a frigid.

Well, you've decided to heal, because you've recovered enough to talk already.

I'll lay him down looking anxious and do some sleep magic.

Good night, Mr. Nasurf.

When I wake up from bed, it's all over.

Mr. Nasurf paints the magic formation by moving the fire lighted on the floating, thin fingertips of the stains.

I learned it at school when I was little, the magic of small things.

Moldy tobacco fell from the glowing magic formation.

He pinches it in his mouth with his trembling fingers and ignites it with a tight slowness.

It didn't light well and dropped the cigarette many times.

I finally inhale the smoke slowly from the tobacco on fire and spit it out slowly.

Thin and small, his shoulders trembled.

"Doctor, I don't know if this was a good idea."

"Shall I buy it?

"Oh, it's kind of stained in my eyes."

I spent an hour buying cigarettes.

By the time I came back from a light meal, Mr. Nasurf, who was perfectly in shape, was waiting for me.

"Doctor, you're a genius. I can't believe the demons really regenerate."

"I'm glad it worked"

"I'd like to thank you personally for something..."

"Oh, that's fine. Be well soon enough for that."

"Are you sure, Doctor?

"That's okay."

The gratuity is a three-digit gold coin.

Even I, the moneyman, will be a Buddha.

From the sick, words of gratitude alone suffice.

Having thus safely regained her demon, Mr. Nasurf was rejuvenated to the appearance of about 30 years old after just sleeping slowly for three days.

With his original age of 38, I guess the wizard still looks younger than the civilian population.

The skin, which was creased, regained its shine, the spine stretched and grew to the point of her hair.

I see. Does magic work on thinning hair?

Shall I make a fortune selling my hair growing pills someday?

The next day, he left Turkiiba, dispersed in darkness, as had been arranged in advance.

Maybe no one would have noticed if I left at noon, but it's a decision.

Because it's a decision, because I can't help it.

I got 100 gold coins, too.

With the gold I got, I bought some buildings on the path to the dungeon of the Demonic Crystal Plant.

Exactly because if the horizontal hole lasts for many kilometers, ventilation will be difficult, and even the rest stop will be far away and I don't like it.

The number of slaves is increasing, and surprisingly, many have jobs in their hands like they are active at the dispatch.

If we let those guys run the store there, it would be more money.

Even without the hassle of M&A, there are many submissive group companies.

Ma, it's not going to work that well because it's about business, but you can make it the worst slave dispatch center or rice store or something.

Anyway, my parents are flour inquisitors, so they buy flour the cheapest.

If the purchase is cheap, I can lubricate the labor force, and more importantly, with a large number of slaves.

It would be the best management situation.

That's how I'm gonna make my business bigger, and eventually I'm gonna put this city's economy in my hands...

No, I'm not talking about this city, can you hear the distribution between the three cities of Turkiiba, Torx and Ruefma?

Then I'll pack all that vast plain wheat field wheat in a shenker sack and sell it to you!

After all, dreams have to be big!

"Here."

I was lightly poked in the head.

He was thinking about it.

Laura, my fiancée, who even followed me to the realtor with me, looked disgruntled beside me.

"You look bad."

"Eh."

"The one with that face is boring and dying. Be steadfast."

"Were you looking so bad?

"He looked like a bandit."

Oh, my God, that refreshing image of me is ruined.

Besides, I don't know why, but I don't want to die just to be a bandit's parent.

I was sad to easily imagine where I grew a blackbeard or something, where I became a savage bandit.

My goal is only my theater.

Make enough money...