Well, it was fair to say the goal had been achieved—even if he could never truly get used to this part of the job.
The healer couldn't help but feel a sharp pang in his heart as he watched the subtle shift in the captives' eyes and body language.
Whatever fleeting trust, gratitude, and subtle reliance he had managed to earn by tending to their wounds yesterday had vanished into thin air.
In its place stood raw mistrust, cold fear, and the exact same quiet hostility they harbored for every other member of the organization.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself for this outcome, it didn't make the sting any lighter.
It's for their own good, he reminded himself, trying to quiet the ache in his chest. It's for their own good. At least this way, they won't end up dead in the mud tomorrow.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, he refocused his attention on his recent opponent, a flicker of genuine curiosity rising beneath his cold exterior.
Where on earth did this one come from? he wondered.
Like most observers who had monitored the arena trials, his attention had been drawn almost entirely to Gil's peculiarity, Helena's sharp tactical control, and Mao's quick adaptability. A few others had stood out, sure, but none were as striking or magnetic as Gil's group.
So he could hardly mask his surprise at suddenly facing a brute force like Hugo, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
He was dead certain he would have remembered if this giant had unleashed that kind of beastly frenzy in the arena.
Was he holding back on purpose? Hiding his true strength all along?
At that thought, the healer's gaze involuntarily hardened, a chilling frost creeping back into his eyes.
Had he deliberately let the others die?
His gaze turned increasingly icy at the thought, before he quickly checked himself.
No, it's not my place to judge. That's none of my business. Everyone has their own reasons, he scolded himself internally.
Besides, it was an ace up his sleeve. Keeping a trump card hidden made total sense in a place like this. But then why unleash it now, during a simple training session where his life wasn't even on the line?
Observing Gil and the others gritting their teeth as they helped the big guy back up, another thought crossed his mind: Did he join Gil's group? I don't recall seeing him with them yesterday...
Setting those reflections aside for the moment, he approached the giant to offer healing as usual, only to freeze dead in his tracks.
To his absolute astonishment, even after absorbing that brutal barrage of strikes, the giant was already standing back up with a little help.
More shockingly, the severe wounds he had suffered throughout their session were already closing on their own.
Looking closer, the torn flesh and horrific skin trauma were fading away, as if an invisible eraser were wiping them clean—or as if time itself were rewinding, leaving his skin as intact as if nothing had ever happened.
Huh?
Now that caught him completely off guard. He definitely hadn't seen that coming.
Well, well, look at that... this batch is full of surprises, he thought to himself. Man, if only we had been like this back in our day...
He couldn't pursue the thought any further. His instincts suddenly screamed, warning him of a high-speed incoming attacker. Instinctively leaning to the side, he dodged just in time as a shadow whipped past him—followed immediately by another right on its heels.
Regaining his composure in a split second, he realized... while he was lost in his thoughts, two other captives had taken advantage of his brief distraction to leap at him.
He immediately recognized the pair—the two who had been in the infirmary alongside Gil.
Before he could even process their identities, he was forced to duck and weave through a lightning-fast barrage of synchronized strikes from the duo.
Hmm! They're good, he thought to himself, still having the absolute luxury of analyzing them mid-combat despite the initial surprise attack.
Taking a quick step to the left, he casually dodged a low tackle from the boy. The kid doesn't look like he's had any formal martial arts training, the healer noted. Greg's movements were far from systematic, relying almost entirely on raw, innate physical gifts. Yet, he was absurdly fast, nimble, and able to strike from tricky, unpredictable angles. Several times, his strikes came dangerously close to connecting.
Unaware of the healer's inner commentary, Greg had completely shed his usual goofy demeanor.
He was relentlessly attempting to take the healer down, using short bursts of speed and a rapid succession of strikes aimed at the torso, legs, and even the head—sparing no vulnerable target that might force his opponent to the ground.
Mm-hmm... Look how tight-knit they already are. Seems I've poked a hornet's nest, the healer couldn't help thinking.
A bittersweet mixture of pride and sorrow washed over him—pride at seeing how quickly these survivors had bonded together, and sorrow knowing this newly forged teamwork was being directed straight at him.
The second attacker, while slightly less explosive in raw speed, possessed far superior martial polish: the girl standing at Gil's side, Kuro.
The best way to describe her in this moment was like a flame burning fiercely despite her marble-cold demeanor.
Unlike Greg's instinctual brawl, Kuro showed crystal-clear signs of prior formal training. She was fast enough, knew exactly where to strike, understood the precision behind every movement, and watched like a hawk for the slightest opening.
Even completely unarmed, she attacked with her palms, her fists, and sharp, knife-hand strikes. She was completely relentless; a burning desire to crush her opponent radiated from every single one of her blows.
Hey!
Caught off guard, the healer actually took a few grazed hits before pulling back to regain his composure.
Strange... Why is there so much rage behind her strikes? Ah, I see. She's one of those types. Well, I'm certainly glad I'm not the target of her—wait, I AM the target.
Growing increasingly exasperated with his situation, the young healer was forced to step up his pace.
The duo's synergy was sharpening by the second; despite this being only their second time fighting side by side, the fluidity between their attacks was developing rapidly.
It was time to counter.
Unfortunately for Greg, he was the first to take a direct hit. Because of his erratic unpredictability and the fact that he was faster than Kuro, the healer designated him as the primary threat, deciding to teach the young man that standing out comes at a steep price.
The healer aimed for Greg's legs first to rob him of his mobility. Greg managed to dodge several attempts—pivoting left, slipping right, or feinting at the very last fraction of a second.
But his luck couldn't hold out forever. Trying to block an incoming strike with his arms, Greg absorbed the full force of a heavy side-impact. He gritted his teeth in agony as the sheer force disrupted his rhythm and slowed him down.
Seeing Greg in trouble, Kuro redoubled her efforts to buy him time, surging forward with furious intensity.
Throwing all caution to the wind and accepting that their chances of actual victory were slim to none, she went all-out, determined to at least leave a mark on the healer.
Well now... she doesn't look it, but she's quite the firecracker, the healer thought.
Showing zero hesitation despite facing a young girl, he met her head-on, targeting her legs and arms with rapid, punishing strikes. Even as severe bruises quickly bloomed across her skin, Kuro refused to back down.
Well then... I suppose the only respectful way to answer that level of determination is to meet it in kind
Shifting into a higher gear, his attacks rained down on the duo like a relentless avalanche.
Increasing his speed despite a brief pang of sympathy, he pushed the tempo to a whole new level.
Greg, despite his exceptional agility, was finding it harder and harder to keep up with the overwhelming barrage.
Kuro realized just as quickly that the situation was slipping out of their control.
"Greg, cover my back!"
Greg instantly caught her meaning.
The two backed up until they stood back-to-back, forming a tight defensive unit to better weather the storm of incoming strikes.
Smart strategy, the healer nodded inwardly, deciding to gradually ramp up the pressure to test the absolute limits of their teamwork.
But just as he was about to press forward, a sudden tremor seemed to pass through both of them, as if they had been struck by an invisible shock.
For a brief second, Kuro's composure cracked, revealing a flash of sheer shock before her expression snapped right back into an unreadable mask of ice.
Greg, however, was far less adept at hiding his emotions—he instinctively started to turn his head to look behind them.
"Greg, focus!" Kuro snapped, sharply pulling his attention back.
"Right—sorry!" Greg blurted out, gritting his teeth as they braced for the healer's next move.
At first, the healer didn't realize the significance of what had just transpired.
But as the frantic exchange continued, his face grew increasingly grim, touched by a wave of genuine shock.
Indeed, he was coming to a startling realization:
They were somehow keeping up with him—almost as if they could predict his every move.