Chapter 220: A Gift from the Heavens
William carried his reed basket, the rhythmic thump-thud of his polished cane
marking time against the forest path.
Beams of sunlight lanced through the canopy, painting shimmering, dancing coins
of gold upon the dirt. The air was a heavy perfume of damp earth and wild
clover—the kind of scent that made a man want to find a patch of soft moss and
surrender to a long afternoon nap.
This patch of woods wasn't particularly large. The residents of Orlando wandered
here often to gather firewood or hunt for mushrooms; the trails were as familiar
as the lines on William's own palms.
William bent his stiff back, uncovering a healthy cluster of wormwood at the
roots of an ancient oak. Good for minor fevers and free for the taking, he
thought. He drew a small utility knife, severed the stalks at the base, and
tossed them over his shoulder into the basket.
A few paces further, near a babbling brook, he struck gold: a patch of wild
mint. Excellent. Steeped in hot water tonight, it'll save me the copper I would
have spent on tea leaves.
William straightened up, thumping his lower back with a closed fist. He decided
to push slightly deeper into the thicket, hoping to find something rarer.
That was when the wind shifted.
William froze. His nose wrinkled. He recognized that smell—the iron-sharp,
cloying scent of blood. It was heavy. It was fresh.
He knit his brows and followed the trail of the odor. Pushing through a stand of
brush taller than a man, William stumbled into a scene that made his aged heart
skip a beat.
A figure lay in the grass. No—it was barely a person anymore.
It was a mass of mangled, blood-soaked flesh.
William hurried over, dropping to his knees. From the tangled mess of
silver-white hair and the general frame, he could tell it was a young woman. But
her features were unrecognizable, a map of jagged lacerations. Blood had
saturated her clothes and pooled in the dirt beneath her in a dark, visceral
puddle.
"This is..."
William had seen many ways to die. He had walked through battlefields in the
Empire of Vollachia and tended to those rotting in the plagues of Gusteko. He
had seen every flavor of the grave.
But these injuries... it looked as if she had fallen from the literal heavens
and then been pulverized by a mountain. Even in the lawless days of the warring
states, this level of trauma was reserved for the most extreme of executions. If
this wasn't the result of a noble's private torture, any perpetrator found
responsible would have been swinging from a gallows by sunset.
William reached out, his fingers searching the side of the girl's neck. Beneath
the cold, clammy skin, a pulse throbbed—faint, stuttering, but there.
"Still alive?"
William's eyes widened. With injuries like this, she shouldn't have been
breathing at all.
He didn't waste another second on wonder. He cast his basket aside and hovered
his right hand over the girl's chest. A pale, golden light erupted from his
palm, manifesting a complex, rotating magical circle in the air.
"Honestly... I'm getting too old for this level of Od-expenditure," William
grumbled under his breath. He began to chant, his voice low and rhythmic.
Tier 6 Healing Magic — [Fountain of Life]
A brilliant radiance enveloped the girl. The torrential flow of blood slowed to
a sluggish crawl. Her shattered bones were anchored by invisible threads of
Mana, and the internal hemorrhaging began to coagulate.
But that was all he could do.
Sweat beaded on William's forehead. This child's body was a ruin; his personal
magic could only serve as a temporary anchor for her soul. For a true recovery,
she needed the concentrated power of the Cathedral's medicine.
He gritted his teeth, stripped off his worn coat, and draped it over her broken
form. Then, with agonizing care, he hoisted her onto his back. He adjusted his
stance, ensuring her head rested firmly on his shoulder to keep her airway
clear, and began the long trek back to town.
He left the basket of herbs behind. Life came first; herbs could be gathered
again, but a snuffed soul stayed dark forever.
The streets of Orlando were as mundane as ever.
A market aunt was screaming about the freshness of her potatoes; the clink-clink
of the forge remained an unbroken soundtrack; and a pack of rowdy children
nearly sprinted headlong into a patrolling skeleton.
And then, they saw William. More specifically, they saw the blood-soaked
nightmare on his back.
"Gods above!" "What happened?!" "Is that... is that a person behind Doctor
William?"
The town went silent. Tools were dropped. Conversations died mid-sentence. Every
eye locked onto the old doctor as he trudged past. Martha the baker peeked out
her window, turned a ghostly shade of white, and retreated into her shop,
clutching her mouth. The old blacksmith set down his hammer and stood in his
doorway, his eyes wide with horror.
"Who did this?" he whispered. "This is beyond cruel..."
The murmurs rippled like waves behind him. William ignored them all, keeping his
head down and his pace steady toward the town square.
Suddenly, three Skeleton Berserkers in black armor rounded the corner. The
soulfire in their sockets burned with a steady, clinical blue. One of them
raised a gauntleted hand, blocking William's path.
"Halt, human," the skeleton commanded. "You are required to submit to immediate
investigation."
William panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked up. "This child
is fading! If she isn't treated now, there won't be a body left to investigate!"
The three Berserker exchanged a look. Their soulfire flickered in a silent,
high-speed communication via soul link. A second later, the lead skeleton
stepped forward and extended its bony arms.
"I am assuming custody of the casualty for rapid transport."
William blinked, then reacted immediately, carefully shifting the girl into the
skeleton's grip. The Berserker took her with surprising, mechanical gentleness.
Then, the skeleton turned and bolted.
Its speed was superhuman. The black silhouette blurred into a streak of
obsidian, vanishing toward the end of the street in a matter of heartbeats. The
remaining two skeletons looked at the wheezing William.
"Human, you cannot depart yet," one said. "We require your testimony. It is
Imperial regulation."
William nodded, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "I know. I'm heading
to the Cathedral anyway."
He set off again, the two skeletons flanking him like an honor guard—or a
funeral procession. They kept a precise three-meter distance, their presence a
silent reminder of the Empire's absolute order. Passersby parted like the Red
Sea. Some whispered in concern, others watched in awe, but no one dared
interfere.
The doors of the Evernight Cathedral were wide open.
The skeleton that had run ahead was already there, cradling the girl. William
hurried inside. The Orc Priest was standing over the body, his expression grim,
already clutching a vial of diluted Emerald's Respite. The Elven Nun had
gathered a pile of clean linens and a basin of fresh water.
"Place her here," the Sister said, pointing to a pew.
The skeleton set the girl down and stepped back, standing as rigid as a statue.
William approached the pew, looking at the face that was more scar tissue than
skin, and took a deep breath. He pulled a leather pouch from his robes,
revealing a collection of gold and silver coins.
Without hesitating, William counted out three gold coins and pressed them into
the Orc Priest's hand.
"Use the Emerald's Respite Original Solution," William commanded.
The Priest took the coins, sparing William a long, searching look. His
expression was one of profound curiosity. Three gold coins. Since the Sovereign
unified the continent, the currency was stable and prices were fixed. Three gold
coins could support a common family in luxury for an entire year. And here was
William, a retired doctor who had only been in town a few months, handing it
over for a stranger without blinking.
The Priest asked no questions. He turned toward the rear sanctum and returned
moments later with an exquisite crystal vial. Inside, a verdant green liquid
shimmered with an inner light.
"Here," the Priest said.
William took the vial, uncorked it, and carefully trickled the medicine into the
girl's mouth. The Emerald's Respite flowed down her throat.
Almost instantly, a miracle of biology occurred. The girl's wounds began to knit
themselves shut at a visible speed. Shattered bone fused, torn skin sealed, and
new muscle sprouted from the ruin. However, her face... the damage had been too
deep. Even the Sovereign's medicine couldn't fully erase the trauma. The scars
that remained were jagged and shocking.
William let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Her life was anchored.
He turned to face the three silent Skeleton Berserkers. "What do you need to
know?"
One skeleton stepped forward, beginning the formal inquiry. "Location of
discovery?"
"The eastern woods, near the brook."
"Subject's status upon discovery?"
"Near-death. Multiple compound fractures. Internal hemorrhaging. Severe facial
trauma."
William answered with clinical honesty.
"Cause of injury?"
William shook his head. "Unknown. But judging by the impact pattern, it suggests
a high-altitude fall combined with repeated blunt-force trauma."
The skeleton paused for a few seconds, processing the data. "Do you recognize
the subject?"
"No."
"Then why pay the price for her soul?"
William looked the skeleton in the eye and gave the only answer that mattered to
him.
"Because she was still breathing. As long as a patient has a single spark of Od
left, a physician does not look away. It is the fundamental oath of my craft."
The skeleton's soulfire pulsed once. "Understood."
It turned to its comrades. "Data logged. Report to the Centurion. Initiate a
sweep of the forest sector. Confirm if there are additional casualties or a
perpetrator on site."
The other two nodded. Simultaneously, the three skeletons turned and marched out
of the Cathedral with synchronized, echoing footsteps.
Silence returned to the hall.
☆☆☆
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