The Valley had grown unusually quiet after the thunderous clash below faded into silence. Elena remained alone in the large chamber, her breathing shallow as she pressed her fingertips over her wrist. Beneath her skin, a soft green pulse thrummed—warm, persistent, like a heartbeat not her own.
Her Core.
Her new power.
A power she didn't understand.
And that terrified her more than anything.
She exhaled shakily and whispered, "System… I need you."
The air responded instantly, the familiar calm voice humming in her mind.
> [I am here, Host.]
Elena swallowed. "What… what exactly is inside me? What is this green light? Why did it appear when the monster attacked Aren?"
The System paused, as if organizing countless years of information into something she could survive hearing.
Then—
> [You possess the rarest Core in existence.]
[The Healer Core.]
Elena's heart stuttered. "Healer…?"
> [A Core with the ability to restore damaged flesh, dissipate corrupted energy, repair elemental backlash, stabilize internal injuries, purify poisons, and eventually—heal Core fractures.]
Elena stared at her palm, her pulse racing.
"That sounds… impossible."
> [It is impossible.]
[In this world, no healer can mend energy wounds or repair elemental damage.]
[Only you can.]
"But why?" Elena whispered, trembling. "Why me? Why did I get this?"
> [Because you were born with it. Even before transmigration, your soul carried this dormant ability.]
[This world only awakened it.]
Her eyes widened.
"So that moment… when I pushed the monster back—"
> [An instinctive Healer Pulse triggered by fear and mate protection.]
Elena froze.
"M-Mate…?"
The System answered gently:
> [Your soul recognized Aren Voss long before your mind did.]
Her breath tangled in her throat.
Before she could question it further, the System added:
> [Your Healer Core is currently Level 0.]
[To upgrade, you must gather Healing Points.]
"Healing Points?"
> [Correct.]
[Small wounds grant 10–20 points.]
[Elemental wounds grant 200–500 points.]
[Core damage grants 2000+. But such wounds are fatal to most.]
Elena's heart tightened.
"I… I have to heal people to grow."
> [Yes.]
[You need 10,000 points for Level 1.]
Elena stared blankly at the wall.
Ten thousand.
"How do I even begin…?"
Before the System could answer—
the door slammed open.
A wave of electric wind rushed through the hall, crackling the lights.
Elena jumped backward, hand flying to her chest.
A tall figure stepped into the room—
Aren.
But this time—
He wasn't just Aren.
He was full Commander Voss.
---
AREN: STORM IN HUMAN FORM
His armor ignited around him like a living storm—
not metal assembled by hands,
but a swirling array of glowing plates that hovered before locking into place by pure mental command.
Elena watched with wide eyes as the armor formed:
Chest piece snapping onto muscle-tight skin.
Gauntlets locking over blood-smeared hands.
Boots connecting with sparks.
Shoulder guards stitching themselves with lightning.
His breathing was harsh, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with something far stronger than anger.
"Elena."
Just one word.
But it felt like a wave crashing through her.
She stumbled a step back.
"Aren—what happened?"
He didn't answer.
He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed her shoulders gently but urgently, and scanned her from head to toe.
"You're not hurt," he whispered. "Good."
Elena blinked.
"Are you hurt?"
Aren let out a breath—half exhausted, half relieved—and leaned slightly against the wall. His armor flickered, then detached piece by piece with his mental command, flying to the storage sphere embedded in the wall.
He stood before her again—
tall, bruised, bleeding, exhausted—
but more concerned for her than himself.
Then Elena noticed the long slash of a wound running down his arm, still glowing from elemental backlash.
She gasped. "Aren—your arm!"
"It's nothing," he said shortly.
"It's not nothing!" She stepped forward without thinking. "That looks painful!"
Aren looked down at his injury, then back at her.
"You shouldn't worry about my wounds. They heal."
"Not this one," Elena protested. "It's still glowing."
His eyes softened—barely.
"Well… it's not healing fast enough," he muttered, clearing his throat as if embarrassed. "But it's fine."
Elena frowned.
"No it isn't. Sit."
Aren blinked. "Sit?"
"Yes."
"…you're ordering me?"
"Yes, Aren. SIT."
A muscle in his jaw twitched—
half annoyed, half amused—
but he obeyed.
He sat on a nearby bench, arm resting on his thigh.
Elena approached slowly.
Her Core pulsed.
Something tugged inside her chest.
A strange heat, a pull, an urge.
"System," she whispered silently, "what do I do?"
> [Touch him. Your Core will do the rest.]
Her throat tightened.
Elena reached out, fingers trembling—
And touched his wounded arm.
---
THE FIRST HEAL
The reaction was instant.
GREEN LIGHT EXPLODED FROM HER PALM.
Warm.
Soft.
Breathing.
Alive.
Aren's head jerked up, eyes widening in shock.
"Elena—what is—"
The light sank into his skin, weaving through torn flesh, erasing damage cell by cell. Elena felt her energy drain, felt warmth travel through her arm into his body.
Aren inhaled sharply.
His breath trembled.
"What… what are you doing?" he whispered, stunned.
"I—I don't know!" Elena said, voice shaking. "I'm just touching it!"
The green glow brightened—
wrapped around the wound—
then faded slowly…
Leaving perfect, unbroken skin behind.
Elena stepped back, panting lightly.
Aren stared at his healed arm.
Then at her.
"You… healed me."
Elena nodded shakily. "I think so?"
Aren's gaze deepened, unreadable.
"Elena," he said softly, voice roughened by disbelief, "no one—no one—in this world can heal energy backlash wounds. They can take days. Weeks. Some never heal."
"I didn't know—"
"How did you do that?"
She swallowed hard.
"I'm still figuring it out."
Aren stood abruptly.
His pulse was racing—she could practically feel it from steps away.
He lifted his hand and tapped the ring on his finger.
Instantly, a white holographic circle erupted in midair, spinning, forming into a floating screen.
Elena yelped and jumped back.
Aren turned to her.
"It's just a call."
"A—a what?"
"A communication ring," he explained. "A transmitter. We can see people live through it."
Her mind blanked. "This little ring is… a phone?"
Aren's lips twitched in amusement despite his shock.
"A phone… yes, something like that."
On the screen, a blurry image appeared—
then sharpened.
Lucy.
Marge.
Martin.
Homer.
Luther.
Clara.
All six appeared with panicked expressions.
"Commander?!"
"What happened?"
"We felt an energy spike!"
"Elena—Elena's Core flared!"
"Aren, report!"
"Is she hurt?!"
Aren didn't speak.
He simply turned the screen so they could see his arm.
Perfect.
Healed.
Lucy's jaw dropped. "NO WAY."
Marge's flames sputtered. "That was a backlash wound!"
Martin whispered, "Impossible…"
Luther cursed under his breath.
Homer blinked slowly.
Clara covered her mouth with trembling hands, tears welling.
"Elena…" Clara whispered. "You have the Healer Core."
Aren turned the screen back, eyes fierce.
"No one.
Says.
A word."
The room fell deathly silent.
Luther nodded grimly. "If other Valleys know—"
"They'll hunt her," Marge finished quietly.
Martin clenched his fist. "Commanders will fight for her."
Homer spoke softly, voice steady as water:
"She must train secretly."
Clara nodded through tears. "We'll protect her."
Aren walked to Elena, placing a hand around her waist.
"Her power stays among us," he said, eyes burning with a vow.
"Until she understands it fully."
He lowered his head, brushing his forehead gently against hers.
"She is the Valley's only healer."
His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her.
"And she is mine to guard."
Elena's Core pulsed wildly—
and for the first time since she'd awakened in this world,
she no longer felt lost.
She felt chosen.
Protected.
Alive.