Chapter 18: The First Step of the Healer
"Wake up," I heard Valerian’s voice, and I immediately raised my body. I remembered that I had fallen unconscious from mana exhaustion before I could even finish healing him.
I glanced at his forearm and palm, now clean and free of any injury, not even a faint scar in sight. For a moment, pride should have swelled in me, a sense of accomplishment for touching the first steps of true healing.
But instead, a hollow weight settled in my chest.
I felt... disappointed.
Disappointed at the sight of flawless skin where my magic had faltered. Disappointed in the memory of my own failure, the weakness that had dragged me into unconsciousness before I could finish my work.
I had touched the art of healing, and yet I had not mastered it.
For the first time since stepping onto this path, my laziness tasted bitter, and the soft call of sleep felt like a temptation I could no longer afford.
I clenched my small fists, the memory of green light flickering in my mind.
’Next time, I will not fail.’
Valerian looked at me with a faint smile as I asked, "Master, what should I do to improve the mana consumption while healing?"
He leaned back slightly, his brown eyes steady. "Do you remember your attribute on the stone slate? Next to them was a Lv 1. You remember, right?"
I nodded.
"The higher the level is for a specific attribute," he explained, "the lower the mana consumption for that attribute. It also increases the speed at which you can control it. For example, your healing attribute, at Lv 1, you are simply forcing mana into the wound, which is costly and slow. As you raise its level, the mana required to achieve the same effect drops drastically."
He gestured with one hand, as if tracing the flow of energy. "Think of it like a river. At Lv 1, your mana flows in rough torrents, leaking power at every bend. At higher levels, the river becomes a smooth, controlled current, guiding your mana exactly where it needs to go without waste."
I blinked, processing his words. "So... if I want to use less mana, I just have to raise the attribute level?"
I glanced down at my hands, remembering the warmth of the green glow, the pulse of life under my fingertips. If each level brought me closer to true mastery, then every step would matter.
Valerian’s smile faded as he looked at me, his brows furrowing slightly. His voice, soft but weighted with patience, broke the silence of the tent.
"...Yes," he said, the words slow, deliberate. Then his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth pulling into a sad frown. "But raising an attribute level is different for everyone. It’s even more difficult to raise a title‑specific attribute. I won’t be able to help you with that."
He paused, his brown eyes meeting mine with quiet insistence.
"You yourself must discover and understand how to raise your attribute on your own."
Valerian observed me for a few moments longer, his calm brown eyes weighing something silently. Then, with a firm nod, he spoke.
"Eat your breakfast. I’ll be busy today, so I’ll have Izabella teach you a few things in my absence."
He didn’t wait for a response. With the quiet grace that seemed to follow him in every movement, he turned toward the tent flap and slipped outside, leaving me behind with my thoughts and the soft murmur of the camp beyond the canvas walls.
The tent felt strangely larger in his absence, the hum of life outside pressing faintly against the thin cloth walls. My eyes drifted to the small table where the meal awaited: a simple bowl of soup, some bread, and a few dried fruits, the same plain fare that had greeted me before.
I reached for the spoon slowly, letting the warmth of the bowl seep into my fingers as I stared at the steam curling toward the dim light above.
I took my first bite in silence, thinking about my healing attribute.
What Valerian didn’t know was that I already understood exactly how to advance my healing and barrier attributes.
With a calm, deliberate thought, I summoned the Akashic Quest linked to my healing attribute.
A golden panel shimmered into existence before me, its edges glowing faintly like the morning sun breaking through a mist.
Letters formed slowly across its surface, each one carrying the weight of celestial authority.
『 Sub quest 1 : Healer path 1
➤ Description: Embark on the first step of the Healer’s journey, discovering your gift to mend and restore life.
➤ Objective: Heal 10 different people ( 0 / 10 )
➤ Time Limit: –
➤ Reward: Healing Lv 2, Healer Path 2
➤ Failure: – 』
First, I noticed the objective remained at 0 despite healing Valerian’s palm yesterday.
But I wasn’t surprised. It was logical that a self‑inflicted injury wouldn’t count; otherwise, it would have been too easy to advance.
And if there was one thing I’ve learned, it was that the world never gives anything away easily.
I exhaled slowly, my fingers brushing the invisible golden light before me. It felt warm, almost alive, a silent acknowledgment of the path I would need to walk.
No more guessing. No more wandering. The Akashic Record itself had given me a clear direction, to step forward and grow, one life, one shield at a time.
***
"Here, wear this." Izabella handed me a white coat just like hers but exactly for my size.
I wore it and followed her outside.
"Where are we going?" I asked curiously.
"To the apothecary." Izabella’s black eyes glimmered as she glanced at me, the smile on her face softening the sharp edge of her usual calm. "You’ll understand more once we get there. Follow me closely."
The crisp morning air met us as we stepped outside the tent, carrying with it the muted hum of the border camp. The scent of damp earth mixed with faint traces of smoke and medicine, lingering over the rows of tents like a thin veil.
I adjusted the small white coat she had given me, its fabric clean and light against my skin, and followed her along the narrow dirt path that wove between the encampments.
Around us, soldiers moved with quiet purpose, their armour clinking softly, while healers ducked in and out of tents with trays of bandages and vials. Every face bore a kind of weariness that words could not fully capture, and yet, in the presence of Valerian’s influence, a fragile thread of hope seemed to hold the camp together.
After a few minutes of walking, we approached a larger tent than the others, its entrance marked by a fluttering white banner bearing the symbol of a green cross entwined with a leaf. Izabella pushed open the flap, and I followed her inside.
The scent hit me first.
It was a rich, layered aroma of crushed herbs, dried roots, and pungent tinctures, all intermingling with the faint metallic trace of medicinal equipment. Wooden shelves lined the canvas walls, each crammed with glass jars of varying sizes, some filled with colourful powders, others with murky liquids or bundles of leaves tied with string. Small tables were scattered across the floor, each one cluttered with mortars, pestles, and neatly arranged knives for cutting and grinding.
"This," Izabella said, spreading her arms slightly, "is the apothecary. One of the oldest and most essential branches of healing."
I walked further in, my eyes tracing over the organized chaos. "So this is where you make the potions?" I asked curiously.
"Potions, salves, tinctures, poultices, everything that keeps soldiers alive when magic alone isn’t enough," she explained, her voice carrying a quiet pride. "Even the best healer can exhaust their mana or face wounds that refuse to close under magic alone. Knowledge of apothecary work is what bridges that gap."
I paused in front of a table where a cluster of small jars sat, each labeled in neat handwriting. Picking one up, I read the words *Silverleaf Extract*. The liquid inside glimmered faintly in the light, a pale green like spring sap.
Izabella stepped closer, her red hair brushing against her white coat as she leaned over the table. "Silverleaf Extract accelerates natural recovery and strengthens the body’s immune response. It doesn’t heal like magic does, but it supports the body in restoring itself. The difference between life and death can often be a single vial of this when the healer is too far, too tired, or too late."
I nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "So... this is another way to heal. Without magic."
"Exactly," she said, smiling faintly. "Every great healer needs to understand the body first, then magic, and then, if they truly wish to master their craft, the apothecary. Because when magic fails, knowledge and ingenuity are what will save lives."
I ran my fingers lightly over the smooth glass of the jar, watching the liquid catch the light. A part of me, the part that always leaned toward rest and quiet, found the slow, deliberate nature of this work appealing. Mixing herbs, grinding powders, and preparing remedies seemed... calm. Peaceful. My kind of work.
Izabella’s voice broke my drifting thoughts. "Tomorrow, you will help me prepare a batch. For today, just observe and learn. Apothecary work is as much about patience as it is about precision. One mistake can turn a healing draught into poison."
I exhaled and glanced around the tent again. For once, I didn’t feel the pull of my pillow calling me. Instead, I felt a quiet curiosity stirring in my chest, a sense that this branch of healing held something that spoke to the way I preferred to move through the world.
Slow.
Quiet.
Precise.
Maybe... this was a path I could walk.