Scourge of Chaos: Savage Healer

The halls of the Arcanum felt different when it was not the chatty Zihei but the silent Elora leading him. She had been quite enthused to show him where the library was after he had asked. It was the first place he wanted to go after getting his new and not quite shiny badge.

Her behavior went against expectation, but Sunday still wondered if perhaps he had hurt the girl’s pride too much. He had expected to be accused of cheating, or for her to stomp away angrily, however nothing of the sort happened. Defeat was a bitter affair, but Elora was taking it rather well all things considered. Will she bring me to a remote corner and numb my body, before cutting me to pieces?

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Elora said.

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him without pausing her step or turning, “Access to valuable books and arts is strictly controlled, and requires you to contribute a lot before you’re even considered worthy. It’s not something gold can buy. Believe me, I tried. I recommend doing tasks if you are in need of coin or contribution points. There are very few combat magi around and a lot to be done. It’s good practice and will let you get to know the surroundings.”

Sunday frowned, “That’s a bummer. Thanks for the advice though. I’ve got a lot to learn and no time.”

“Don’t we all?” She stopped and pivoted on the heel of her boot, getting close to him. “How did you do it?” she asked.

“How did I do what?”

“How did you shake off Deaden Nerves? It lasts at least half an hour or until I decide to release it. It’s a spell very suitable for my fighting style and it took a lot of time until I found it. No one has countered it so fast.”

Deaden Nerves? That sounds awesome.

“Perhaps I was just lucky?” Sunday shrugged. Give me more to work with. Tell me things.

“No. I also felt your jaw break, but you stood up and it was completely fine. Do you have a self-healing spell? You’re an undead.” The last part was said in an accusatory tone as if it was a crime.

“And you’re a human, I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” He wondered if perhaps he had made a mistake but quickly dismissed the thought. Quite a few people were bound to at least learn bits and pieces of his abilities once he started making moves though. Hiding it is not sustainable. I’m about to start a business for god’s sake. As long as I don’t show both effects it should be fine to pretend, I’m an alchemist or something.

“A healing spell affecting the undead is a rare and strong spell. You could’ve won much easier,” Elora said.

“I still won, and you’re wrong.”

She squinted at him, “How am I wrong?”

“Killing or maiming you would be no victory for me.”

Her eyes twitched at that and she studied him closer, as if trying to determine whether he was lying or playing with her.

“You’re a strange undead.”

Elora seemed to reach an epiphany, and her eyes reflected that as the blue softened. She turned and continued leading him down the hallways of the Arcanum. The stone and decorations all looked the same to him. There was no rhyme or reason as they climbed and descended and took strange turns, but one way or another she was confident in her sense of direction.

“Adept Ironbond mentioned something…” Sunday began. He was dying to know the answer to his question. “He mentioned bought spells… can you explain what he meant?”

Elora stopped again and waited until they were alone in the hallway, all the while glaring at him. There were not many roaming the cold stone corridors, but they had passed by a few lone figures. Everyone was busy caring about their work and goals, after all. There was no chatter, nor any sort of sound, so voices and steps echoed far bouncing off the shiny stone.

A woman who had been coming their way passed by and threw a glance toward the pair. She was middle-aged, and dressed in a mundane outfit loosely similar to Elora’s garments. Sunday met the woman’s eyes and she smiled, sending a shiver down his spine. He could still hear the people he had beaten welcome death by his hand.

The feeling passed just as fast as it had come and Elora’s hand pushing at his chest brought him out of the worrying line of thought. For a moment he thought she would try and use her spells, leaving him with no option but to melt her face.

Instead, she pushed him into a corner, behind an ancient-looking statue of yet another mage. “Don’t speak about such things out loud! Even if everyone does it, it’s still foolish to announce it to the world!” Elora hissed. Then seemed to calm down, but remained too close to him for comfort.

He wasn’t sure if it was her presence, or the danger it presented that was making him uncomfortable. Like being in a tight enclosure with a beautiful yet poisonous animal.

“If you tell me how you shrugged off my spell, I’ll tell you all about the spells,” she whispered with a smirk.

She thinks she has me cornered. Ah, curiosity indeed kills the cat. From lowly thugs to orphans in the forest all suspect it, and yet here I am trading this piece of personal trivia for useful knowledge. This is the life. Sunday gave himself a pained expression, and after a few moments nodded with a defeated sigh. The light in the girl’s eyes only grew. He leaned even closer, making Elora’s eyes widen, but she didn’t seem to resist the intrusion into her personal space.

“I’m a healer,” he said quietly in her ear, then pulled back. If she was shocked, she didn’t show it.

“That explains it all. A healer among the undead is rare, and not very sought after, but such spells are poison to living beings. Thank you for holding back,” she said after a few moments of silence.

This girl keeps surprising me. It was as if she was a different person now. She couldn’t possibly know enough about him to find uses for his presence. Although everyone seemed to do so quite quickly. I need to look into the burial grounds. Hopefully, the library will provide some answers.

“The Arcanum has a vault of spells somewhere deep underground. It is protected by magi at all times, and the quasi-spells woven in the very building won’t allow just anyone to find or reach it. You could try trading but don’t get your hopes up. They will never show you the true selection they keep, even if you spend years working your way up as one of theirs,” Elora explained with shining eyes. “I hear there are quite a few powerful spells down there. There’s also another vault at the very top, meant for spells with different needs. It’s equally protected.”

That’s interesting. I might consider more unorthodox means then. Unless she’s telling me all this to rope me into her scheme. Doesn’t strike me as the type. How would she know all of this anyway? Her family is probably powerful, considering Zihei’s attitude and the fact that Adept Ironbond is helping her mother… She’ll make a good ally.

Elora looked around and stepped even closer to him, making him involuntarily take in a breath. She was only a head shorter than him. Girls had seldom acted this way in his life on Earth, and when they did it was because they wanted something. The case was probably similar here. However, now that a true beauty from the higher society was doing it, seemingly oblivious to her actions, he was too undead to appreciate it. Yet, even death didn’t seem to completely extinguish some fires.

“There’s also… a black market,” she whispered, enunciating each word. “A place under the city. Spells are often traded there if you know where to look. It’s an open secret, and some of this city’s rulers would give a lot to end such trade and be in full control of spells, but too many support it.”

A spell black market. Not surprising I can’t find a single one out in the open. All that’s left is to get some gold and more slots. I need to pay attention to my practice of the soul-forging art. Fighting helps me, and killing cultists is the fastest way to grow, unfortunately. It doesn’t make sense for them to want to die if it was so simple…

“I suppose,” Sunday said gazing into her eyes, “That only you can show me the way there?”

Another option was to ask Riya, but she was too annoying to deal with. Talking in roundabout ways, digging around with each word, having a wight following him… It was too much.

Elora smiled. The sweet smile of someone who had just gotten her way. The sweet winning smile of someone who didn’t know who stood before her. It was a pretty sight. Some weaknesses never change…

“I’ll need to gather up some capital first. I’m quite poor,” Sunday grimaced, then put on a charming smile. Unless you can spot me, pretty girl?

Elora’s smile vanished as it had come in sharp contrast to his own. “Sure. I’ll ask around. However…”

There it is.

“…I need you to do something for me in return.”

At least she’s straightforward about it. I like it much better than all the games. “What is it?” Considering what she knew of him, there were only so many possibilities.

“I need you to heal a friend of mine. An undead. Can you do that?”

Figures. Everyone loves some healing. He could give her the flask he carried. Depending on the damage it could be enough to patch up whoever it was she cared about. However, that would give her more information, and remove the chance of squeezing more information out of her. And I need to start making my name spread wider. Harder slaps that might heal my enemies are not good enough. I need real buffs.

“It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Tomorrow morning then. We’ll meet near the gardens down the lake,” Elora said, suppressing a smile.

Sunday nodded and followed along as she practically skipped toward the fabled library. Finally, they ended before a humongous double door made of dark iron that seemed heavy enough to stop a whole troupe from opening it.

“This is it. I won’t be going inside and you can't make me,” Elora said as she glared at the door. “A few pieces of advice. First, respect the books and pay the fee on time. Second, make use of the practice room of the Arcanum. They are expensive so get some contribution points as soon as you can. It’s worth it and even a day there will bring many lasting benefits to your practice. Lastly, don’t for a second think you’ve won,” she bared her teeth at the last bit, “If it was a real fight, I’d have wiped the floor with you. See you tomorrow.”

Sunday returned her grin but didn’t say anything, not that she would have waited. It was almost as if she used her spell to flee faster just to have the last word. It was a fun sight and he felt relieved that at least one person in the accursed city was wearing their heart on their sleeve. Even Vyn had goals and secrets he wasn’t sharing.

Then again, I’ve known them all only for a few days. It makes sense for us to be wary of one another. Maybe it’s Elora that’s weird? Those practice rooms sound very important, but Zihei didn’t mention them. I do need help with the Black Breath. One thing at a time.

He looked at the intimidating doors and placed his hand on them. A slight sense of warmth passed through the badge tucked in his pocket and something clicked. The doors opened silently just enough for him to pass on their own. Were libraries supposed to be so creepy and unwelcoming? He stepped into the darkness and barely grabbed the wall of the corridor he stepped into in time.

His vision became blurry and for a moment he thought Chaotic Step had done its thing again.

However, a thunderous heartbeat wrecked his chest. A beat. Somewhere far, but not very far. Somewhere dark and wet, where the air smelled of death and rot and sunlight was a thing of myth.

He didn’t see the cold stone of the Arcanum anymore. There was water, mud, and yellow eyes everywhere. A whole army trembling in the wake of a will that was thought extinguished, only to come back many times stronger.

Ghouls of all kinds cried out in terror of what was coming. Some fled the hills and swamps in droves, without looking back. Others stood frozen, accepting their fate, or went insane. He could sense the sheer horror. It was so strong some of the monsters clawed at their eyes or tore at their throats, raining black blood and viscera everywhere. They were afraid of him.

Sunday blinked and found the world coming into focus. He was face to face with a wretch – one of the brainless undead the city used for cleaning or other menial tasks. He was back in the Arcanum and it took him a few moments to center himself and shake off the lingering effects of the vision. The wretch was holding an outstretched hand toward him with a blank expression and an open mouth.

He absentmindedly put two silver pieces in it and stepped forward in a daze. A sensation of uncertainty and foreignness was thrumming in his chest, making it hard for him to care about the spent coin.

What the fuck just happened?