LTTH C3

Chapter 3

In the skill window where only Heal had existed in lonely isolation, Healing Light was newly added. Nothing could be more thrilling than the first bloodletting of a new skill. Taking a small, steadying breath, Hansol spoke.

“Healing Light.”

“Ahh….”

The range was at most five meters. But it was enough. The people remaining on this battlefield were all huddled close together to receive treatment. A pure white radiance, much like Heal’s glow, spread out from Hansol as the center. It lingered once on the man right beside him, on the gentleman with the knife lodged in him, and on the others as well, then faded. It would likely feel to them as if they’d received one more round of Heal. Of course, Healing Light was only at Lv.1, and no severe wound would mend with a single use.

If once isn’t enough, then do it ten times. If ten isn’t enough, do it twenty. Hansol still had plenty of mana. And Healing Light consumed a mere 20 mana. Nearly the same as Heal—frankly, a real bargain of a skill.

“So that’s what it meant.”

While he was practically rapping the incantation for Healing Light, the first man he’d treated looked over with eyes full of emotion. What was that look supposed to be? The sparkling gaze was distinctly unsettling. But Hansol still had a crowd of injured before his eyes.

As the experience bar steadily rose, he leveled up once more, and with the mana that quickly refilled, he parroted the skill again. He had to pause once for lack of mana, but reaching level 10 came faster than expected. He had finally met the bare minimum standard for a healer who could pull his weight. The thrill and sense of fulfillment lasted only a moment before Hansol’s gaze turned to the half-dead man.

“Mister, I’ll say this in advance… I can’t fully revive him. At best, I can keep him alive.”

“That’s fine!”

“At last.” With that quiet addendum, the man carefully laid the near-corpse out straight. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but the face was a handsome one. And judging by how desperately this man wanted him saved, that half-dead fellow must be important. If Hansol could keep his breath going here, at least he wouldn’t die to a stray blade. The thought came naturally.

“Prayer of Healing.”

Wishing for a future shield and patron, he intoned the skill with earnest desire. Unlike before, a gentle light suffused the air with a faint pink hue, settling around Hansol.

Ah, so that’s how it works?

A soft, protective barrier domed out about one meter around him. Waves of light pulsed once per second and stopped precisely at the barrier’s edge. A heal-over-time—if one had to name it. It was limited to close range, but it was nice not to have to keep reciting an incantation. Judging by the rough healing numbers, it was a touch weaker than Heal, but in persistence and mana efficiency it was clearly superior to the earlier skills.

“Sir, you as well—come here.”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you.”

A quick glance at the skill description had seared it into his eyes. He couldn’t move while channeling, but it automatically produced the same effect as a single cast of Heal—undeniably a good skill. And if Hansol couldn’t move, then the injured would have to come to him.

The man edged closer, hesitant. Up close, he clearly seemed to be forcing himself. Pale face, trembling arms. Then again, if someone were perfectly fine with a knife stuck in their back, they wouldn’t be human.

“Do you see this light? If you stay within it, you’ll receive continuous healing.”

“Ahh, yes….”

“So, don’t step out of it.”

“Ah.”

Only then did the man nod as if he understood. With two severely injured men at his side, Hansol began repeating the skill name to keep the pulses from fading. Bands of light continued to ripple out from him. Where there’s a will, there’s a way—or rather, many a little makes a mickle. At least they were starting to look like people rather than zombies. And during that time, his level rose by two more, which was welcome news.

At this rate, he might even hit 15.

It wasn’t filling as explosively as at first, but it was rising, however faintly. As long as the flow didn’t break, he should be able to level up again.

That was when it happened.

“It’s the Duke!”

“We’re saved…!”

People clustered at the far end began to shout, unable to hide their delight. Judging by the look of it, allies had arrived. Hansol halted the incantation he’d been repeating and looked straight ahead. About ten men, perhaps? Their armor was more intact than their bloodstains suggested. One of them, obviously the leader at a glance, strode toward Hansol with a twisted expression.

“So there was still one of you left?”

Correction: he wasn’t merely approaching—he was advancing with a drawn sword and a murderous scowl, as though confronting a mortal enemy. His eyes looked at Hansol not as a person, but as a monster. That ferocity froze Hansol’s lips. What saved him was the man with the dangling arm.

“P-please wait! Th-this man saved us!”

“…Peril. You’re alive.”

“Yes. He saved me.”

Technically, he hadn’t saved him. Hansol flicked his gaze at the man and parted his lips, but survival instinct asserted itself far more strongly than conscience. He clamped his mouth shut, eyes flitting between the two men.

“That healer there, you say.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The man’s gaze landed on Hansol. There was not a shred of warmth in it, and it felt so much like the look hunters gave him in his original world that he involuntarily shrank back. The euphoria of leveling plummeted to the dirt. Right—this was how it always was.

The same.

He’d hoped another dimension would be different, but it wasn’t. No matter where he went, his treatment was the same. Somehow, it felt like it wasn’t only about level, and that left a faintly bitter aftertaste.

“He saved the young master as well.”

“…Rachel?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely. He’s alive. He is.”

The man’s gaze changed, tinged with a strange light, and fell upon the once-half-dead man. So he was important, after all.

“Not an enemy, then—our benefactor.”

“No, to be precise, I haven’t completely revived him…”

He hurriedly cut in, hammering a wedge into the man’s assertion that the near-corpse had been saved. Misunderstandings would be troublesome. Strictly speaking, the man wasn’t “revived” yet.

“My apologies. I’ve simply never seen a healer act favorably toward us.”

Strictly speaking, he isn’t saved yet.

The unspoken truth slid back down his throat. Somehow, saying “I didn’t save him” felt like it would flip that kindly gaze in an instant. Instead, Hansol answered by reciting Prayer of Healing once more as its duration waned.

“Then let’s return.”

“Yes. Understood.”

“You, too.”

“…Ah, yes.”

Perhaps the sight of Hansol just standing there bothered him; the man added those words. Brazen as it was, Hansol had already intended to follow. Once these people left, this place would be a barren waste.

Under an awkward sort of honor-guard-that-wasn’t, Hansol left the ravaged battlefield. After some tens of minutes walking together, a different kind of place came into view.

Several sturdy temporary shelters stood, with soldiers keeping watch at intervals.

So it really was a war. He didn’t know who the enemy was, but it was an enormous stroke of luck he hadn’t dropped in mid-battle. If it had been during combat, healer or not, his head would likely have been lopped off on the spot.

“Give him the barrack right next door.”

“Yes, understood.”

A glance around showed most had light injuries. If he treated them all, he might be able to gain at least one more level. Hansol’s eyes brightened.

“Um, excuse me—would it be all right if I treated the wounded before I rest?”

“……”

At his words, the people moving with the clank of metal froze for a beat. A great many eyes turned toward Hansol.

What’s this?

Startled by the sudden surge of attention, Hansol flinched. Their looks were as if they’d witnessed something they shouldn’t have, and for a moment he found himself wondering, “Did I do something wrong?”