Shortened my life? How is that possible? I turned to Xenon, who had a troubled expression on his face. He was the reason for all of this. He attacked Tristan and tried to kill me. "It's your fault!" These words escaped my lips as I held him by the collar.
He didn't respond, instead stroking his naked chin. "I know," he finally replied. That was all? My lifespan was shortened because of him, yet that was all he had to say? This was too much. Ever since I met Altera, my life has changed for the worse. My vision slowly became blurry.
The world seemed to be spinning around me; my whole perspective now spirals distorted into nothing. I fell to the floor, tired. If I weren't so hungry, I ought to have vomited now. What was this? I turned to Xenon to see him in deep conversation with the woman.
Even now, they ignored me like I was nothing. People of my status often received such treatment. Thrown to the corner and neglected. Given a small, tatty share of space and forced to feel grateful.
The dizziness gradually wore off, and I slowly regained my bearings. "You!" This outburst caused the two to face me. My life was cut short, yet they acted as if nothing important had happened. "You're going to find a solution now!"
They eyed me as if I were mad. "Are you crazy, boy?" It was the woman who asked me this question. My head was now clear, and I wasn't going to take this crap. I moved toward her, but Xenon blocked my way. "She's the reason you're still alive right now," he said out of nowhere.
"Get out of my—" the woman interrupted me as I spoke.
"Where's the gaping hole in your stomach?"
"What hole—?" It was then that I remembered when Xenon had stabbed me. At the Zenith of my power, he dug a flaming sword into my gut. "Sorry about that," ignoring him, I looked at my stomach. It was spotless, with no burns, stabs, or bruises. All my wounds were gone.
Even the moribund ache in my left arm from the bread merchant was gone. "How?" I turned towards the woman once more. Brushing her black hair aside, she gave me a stern look. "You honestly don't know?" she asked, her annoyance evident.
"I…have an idea. You're a healer, right?" Her expression twisted further, causing me to take a step back. "That word annoys me, I prefer the term medic," she corrected. I didn't want to believe it earlier, but it was obvious. I originally believed healers weren't a real thing, but it seems I was wrong.
It could be my eyes, but taking a second look, she seemed drained. The severity of my wounds must have taken a toll on her. My head suddenly swelled with pain as my vision distorted once more. "A..g..ain?" My body tumbled to the floor as I tried moving forward.
The more I tried moving, the more my vision swirled. I couldn't tell if I was moving forward, back, or even at all. What was this? My back erupted with seething pain as I forced out a dry scream. The medic said something I couldn't pick up and moved to a table.
I couldn't tell what she was doing, but that didn't matter right now. "Ahhh! What…is…this!?" I rolled on the floor as the pain became unbearable. It felt like hot water was poured all over me. My head pounded and my ears rang; it was as if I had become a bomb.
Death was preferable to this continuous torture. The pain continued to worsen with no sign of abating. The world was now blurred to nothing. Colours were the only thing I saw now. An indescribable sensation crept up my back as the pain slowly died down.
My flared nerves slowly smoldered. It was similar to dipping a burnt hand in snow. Slowly but surely, my spasms subsided until it was but a glimmering fantasy. I sat on my butt, looking to the medic woman for answers. She returned some items to a drawer before turning to Xenon.
"It's worse than I thought," her expression worsened as she said this. She walked to Xenon, coming unnecessarily close. Shoving him aside, she picked a metal object from a desk.
"Hey Xenon,"
"What?" he responded, slowly moving back.
"When you told me you'll be bringing a boy in, you didn't specify he'd be half dead." Her face was now a distorted smile.
"It was…was just a simple spar! I swear!—"
Clang!
The sound of solid metal striking a surface resonated through the air as the medic struck Xenon's head with the object. I gave a held-back laugh, trying not to show my amusement. It was also quite disappointing that his head didn't open. "Hah, sorry you had to go through all this," she directed this to me, to my surprise.
She didn't do anything wrong, and yet here she was apologizing. I turned to Xenon, who was busy saying something under his breath. "I'm sorry," he looked to the medic and then to me as he said this.
Our expressions must have told him something because he continued.
"I'm serious. I didn't intend for it to go that far. I just expected more, and I knew I had to force it out." He approached me, helping me off the ground. "Sorry about Tristan too. None of this would have happened if it weren't for me." He looked genuine. I honestly hadn't forgiven him, but this was a first step.
"Wait, where's Tristan?" It was the medic who answered. "His injuries weren't as bad as yours," she turned to Xenon, then continued. "It wasn't something to laugh about, but it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before. He's recovering in another room," she finished.
"Please, Zane, take a seat," she gestured to a nearby chair as I wondered what had suddenly gotten into her.
"Before you woke up, Xenon and I talked about your magic. Your repertoire of abilities doesn't make sense. You use ice, which would naturally mean you're a water mage, but without a vaelstrom of at least the flow stage, that's impossible. The bigger problem, though, is the nature of your power itself," she paused, giving me time to digest.
"Normally, you're an elemental mage. So are Xenon, Tristan, and most mages out there. Aside from that class, there is another we call special attributes. I'm an example of such a class," my hands shifted as my foot fidgeted on a spot. She must have noticed it as she continued.
"I'm saying you're abilities are closer to mine than Xenon's." I tried hiding it, but my face gave it away. I didn't understand. "Don't worry, Xenon will elaborate later," she turned to see Xenon at the door, trying to run away.
"I thought you were done with me?—ow!"
He screamed as she threw the metal object at him. He moved to a chair and sat down. "Your injuries were quite severe. Physically, you were in tatters. Magic-wise, you were worse. You pushed your body to the absolute limit, but that wasn't the main problem. Somehow, you used your life force for strength in your last push. Elemental mages can't do that, and that's why your lifespan was cut short." Slowly, I was getting the big picture, but I was still lost.
"You'd lost over a decade when you came in, but I managed to pull it back to a year. The pain you feel is an aftereffect of the healing. It'll get better over time, but never go completely. Take that as a warning; never resort to such again. I can't heal you all the time. Overusing my kind of power comes with consequences—"
"Thank you," I interrupted, to her astonishment.
"You've saved my life, I'm eternally grateful," I stood up, giving a respectful bow. "You're more polite than Xenon described," she responded, letting a grin slip. "You're hurting my feelings," he replied, his voice dripping with mock offense.
"I don't have much time, so we have to make this quick. Zane, follow me," he said, now standing up. Before leaving the room, I remembered something.
"I didn't get your name," I asked. She appraised me before answering.
"Grace."
Xenon looked at me questioningly as he left the ward. Turning my head back to the exit, I was greeted by a familiar face.
"Tristan…"