Over the following month, James devoted himself entirely to mastering the preparation of basic medicines. Each day, under the old man's guidance, he crushed herbs, boiled roots, extracted oils, and learned the delicate balance of blending ingredients to create remedies that could ease pain, soothe fevers, or mend wounds. His hands grew steadier, his instincts sharper, until the process became second nature.
But it wasn't just the training that marked the passage of time—it was the small, unexpected moments with Aria.
One afternoon, as he sorted dried leaves in the hut, Aria sat across from him, idly rolling a sprig of mint between her fingers. "You still hesitate sometimes," she observed.
James huffed a quiet laugh. "Not everything is as easy as you make it look."
She smirked. "It's not about ease. It's about _knowing_ the plants, understanding them like an extension of yourself."
Their hands brushed as she reached to adjust the mixture he was preparing, the fleeting touch lingering between them. Neither commented on it, but James found himself more aware of her presence than before.
Another evening, after a long day of work, James stepped outside for some fresh air. He hadn't expected Aria to be sitting near the river, staring at the water, deep in thought.
"You ever think about leaving?" he asked, settling beside her.
She glanced at him, then shook her head. "This is home," she said simply. "Grandfather needs me here."
James nodded slowly. "I get that."
She hesitated before asking, "And you? What are you going to do after all this training?"
James exhaled, staring up at the stars. "I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "But for now, I think I want to stay."
Aria didn't respond right away, but he noticed the way her expression softened just slightly.
Their bond had shifted. It wasn't just a shared space or training—it was something deeper, something that lingered in the quiet moments between lessons and late-night conversations.
As another month passed, James not only refined his skills as a healer, but found something he hadn't realized he needed—a connection, a sense of belonging.
James took a steady breath and called forth his status window, his eyes scanning the familiar list of stats and abilities. As expected, his physical attributes had improved with his training, but something new caught his attention—an entirely fresh skill added to his repertoire.
New Skill Acquired:
Herbalist's Insight – Basic Tier
Can now identify medicinal plants with greater accuracy and efficiency, understanding of herbal properties allows faster preparation of remedies and with improved effectiveness. While still at a foundational level, continued practice may lead to advanced applications, including specialized healing techniques.
His gaze lingered on the skill, a subtle satisfaction settling in his chest. The past month hadn't just been about refining his hands-on experience—it had reshaped his ability to perceive the world around him.
Additionally, under Status Effects, there was a subtle shift:
- Herbal Mastery Initiated – Early proficiency in identifying, processing, and applying medicinal herbs. Further training required for enhanced utility.
James exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his progress. Not only had he expanded his skill set, but he had also deepened his understanding of survival beyond combat.
James decided to keep his discovery to himself, at least for now. He wasn't hiding it out of uncertainty—rather, he wanted to refine his understanding further before making it known. The skill, while basic, was a stepping stone, a quiet affirmation that his efforts were paying off.
Over the next few weeks, he continued honing his craft, testing himself in small ways. He started recognizing plants even before the old man pointed them out, instinctively identifying which ones could be used for burns, fevers, or pain relief. His hands moved with greater precision as he prepared remedies, each motion becoming second nature.
Aria noticed the change, though she didn't comment outright. Sometimes, her gaze lingered a little longer when he worked, a faint curiosity in her eyes. The old man, ever watchful, nodded more often, his approval subtle but unmistakable.
James felt the progress deep in his bones. This wasn't just another skill—it was survival, knowledge, _self-sufficiency_. And he wanted to master it completely.
James decided not to wait for instruction—if he wanted to master this craft, he needed to take the initiative. Late into the evenings, while the old man rested and Aria handled her own tasks, he experimented quietly, refining techniques beyond what had been taught to him.
At first, his attempts were rough. The balances weren't perfect, and some mixtures came out weaker than expected, but he persisted. He studied how certain herbs reacted when combined, how different methods of preparation altered potency, and which applications worked best for various conditions.
One night, as he crushed a rare root into powder, Aria wandered into the room, arms crossed. "You're obsessed," she murmured, half amused, half intrigued.
James smirked but didn't pause his work. "I'm improving."
She stepped closer, watching his process. "Grandfather will notice sooner or later," she pointed out.
James shrugged. "Then I'll make sure I'm ready when he does."
Aria didn't argue, but her expression held something unreadable—a mix of curiosity and perhaps, just a bit of admiration.
Another week passed, and the weight of the inevitable farewell settled in. James had spent countless hours refining his craft, pushing himself beyond the lessons taught, and immersing himself in the quiet knowledge of healing.
The once unfamiliar world of herbal medicine had become second nature—yet now, it was time to move on.
The morning of his departure, he stood outside the hut, gazing at the familiar surroundings. The trees, the scent of drying herbs, the steady hum of life—it had shaped him in ways he hadn't expected.
Aria approached, arms crossed but her expression softer than usual. "So, you're really going?" she murmured.
James nodded, though something in his chest ached at the thought. "Yeah. It's time."
She huffed a quiet breath, her fingers tightening at her sides. "Well, don't go forgetting everything you learned," she muttered, though there was no sharpness in her tone—only quiet understanding.
The old man stepped forward, his usual stern expression unwavering. "You've come far," he said, "but learning never truly ends. Wherever you go next, remember that knowledge is a foundation—not a limit."
James bowed respectfully. "Thank you, for everything."
The old man gave a slow nod, and Aria hesitated just a moment longer before she reached into her pouch. She pulled out a small bundle—a simple mixture of dried herbs, carefully wrapped. "In case you run into trouble," she said, pushing it into his hands.
James looked at it, then at her, offering a faint smirk. "I'll take good care of it."
James hesitated for a moment before turning to Aria, the weight of their time together settling in his chest. He had never been great with goodbyes, and this one felt heavier than most.
Aria stood there, arms crossed but her expression softer, as if she wasn't sure what to say either.
"So," she murmured, kicking at a stray pebble. "You're really leaving."
James nodded, offering a small smile. "For now."
She huffed a quiet breath, her fingers tightening at her sides before she finally stepped forward. Without a word, she pulled him into a hug—firm, warm, lingering just enough to leave an impression.
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