As Deo dismissed the cascade of notifications with a flick of his wrist, he stepped back through the gate into the town, the weight of the battle's aftermath pressing heavily upon him. The scene that unfolded was one of stark devastation and muted triumph. The cobblestone streets, once the lifeblood of the town's daily hustle, were now stained with blood, a grim tapestry woven in the aftermath of their defence. Broken wagons lay scattered, their wooden frames shattered and contents spilled like the town's very heart had been torn open. Around him, the townsfolk were a display of weariness and relief. Some sat heavily against the remains of buildings, their chests heaving with the effort of each breath, while others slumped on the ground, their strength spent but spirits unbroken. Despite the palpable exhaustion that hung over them like a shroud, there was an underlying current of victory—their survival was a demonstration of their courage and resolve.
At the centre of attention were the fallen adversaries, the three massive bears that had brought chaos to their doorstep. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in their eyes as they discussed the encounter. Hands pointed and voices speculated, a communal attempt to piece together the origin of these fearsome creatures that had so abruptly shattered the peace of their lives. Nearby, the group by the woodworker's shop, who had earlier banded together with whatever was at hand to defend their corner of the town, were deep in an animated discussion, pointing inwards to the ruined shop. In the distance, Deo noticed the butcher, a figure of solid resilience amid the ruin. With a quick stride, the man disappeared into the remnants of his store, only to emerge moments later with a sizable hunk of meat. With a smooth motion, he tossed it into the air towards Pyro, who caught it deftly, a bark of gratitude echoing off the walls. Pyro, then joyfully trotted away and made his way to Deo's side.
After guiding the two children back into the town, Deo took a moment to ensure they were ready to navigate their way back to their families. He knelt to their level, his eyes softening as he examined them for any signs of injury. Satisfied but cautious, he offered them each a gentle, reassuring ruffle of their hair, a silent promise that they had done well, and it was now safe to go home. "Stick together, and head straight home," he instructed, his tone kind. Watching them scamper away, Deo felt a momentary ease, a reminder of what had been fought for and preserved amidst the destruction. Turning his attention back to the town, Deo's gaze was drawn to the guards by the gate, particularly to the one who he had first met yesterday. This guard, now seated with his back against an upturned wagon, bore a stark gash across his forehead—a vivid mark of the battle's ferocity. Beside him, a female companion was meticulously attending to the wound, her hands moving with the precision of necessity. She tore strips from what once was a tunic, now repurposed into makeshift bandages.
As this silent act of healing unfolded, a woman detached herself from the group gathered near the woodworker's shop and strode towards the guards with purpose. Her movements were decisive, her manner radiating a mix of urgency and frustration. As she engaged the guards, her gestures grew emphatic, her voice rising in volume, tinged with clear fury. This display of raw emotion drew the attention of those nearby, including Deo, who found himself drawn towards the unfolding exchange, curious and concerned.
“How could you let those bears straight into the town? Didn’t you see them? Why the bloody hell didn’t you shut the gate?” Deo heard her demand, her voice cutting through the post-battle quiet with sharp accusatory tones. It was a question that hung heavily in the air, reflecting the fear and confusion that many felt in the aftermath of the attack.
“The mist... The area was covered in mist…” the injured guard attempted to explain, his voice strained with pain as he gingerly touched the gash on his forehead, a grimace crossing his face. His explanation seemed to hang in the air, an assertion that clashed with the clear skies overhead, leaving room for doubt and further questions.
“What are you talking about? There’s no fog? It’s a clear day!” the woman shot back, her scepticism plain and her emotions running high.
“Enough,” intervened the female guard, her tone brooking no argument as she physically inserted herself between the injured guard and the irate citizen. “You can question him later, now is not the time.”
As the woman continued to shout questions past the human barricade, the injured guard struggled visibly with her questions and his own pain. His attempt to articulate the surreal conditions they'd faced was cut short as his voice faltered, his eyes glazed with a mix of confusion and distress. In a moment that seemed to stretch out, his strength ebbed visibly until, overwhelmed by pain and the exertion of trying to explain, he slumped sideways, fainting from the combined weight of his injuries and the intense scrutiny.
This sudden collapse was the trigger for Deo to spring into action, as he moved with purpose towards the fallen guard. “Here, let me help,” Deo offered, his voice a calm anchor in the swirl of emotions and voices. Gently, he eased past the female guard who had been staunchly defending her companion, his presence now a necessary intervention. Kneeling beside the unconscious man, Deo carefully peeled away the bandage that had been hastily wrapped around the guard's head, revealing the deep gash on his forehead. Placing his hand directly over the wound, Deo closed his eyes and focused, invoking the power of Verdant Surge. A soft, green glow emanated from his palm, casting a gentle light over the guard's pallid features.
Beneath Deo's hand, something miraculous began to occur. The flesh around the gash stirred as if awakened, edges twitching and curling towards each other in a dance as old as life itself. Skin that had been torn and parted under the bear's ferocity now sought unity, guided by the healing energy pulsing from Deo's touch. Muscle fibres, raw and exposed, intertwined anew, weaving a tapestry of regeneration under the verdant glow. Blood, which had pooled and clotted around the injury, was now absorbed back into the forming tissue, leaving no trace of the violence that had caused it.
[Skill Level Up! Verdant Surge has reached Level 3!]
As the flesh knitted together, leaving behind no sign of the previous trauma except for a faint scar, a murmur of awe spread through the onlookers. When Deo finally lifted his hand, the guard's forehead was healed, the skin smooth and whole once more. The woman who had been so vocally challenging the guards’ moments before stood rooted to the spot, her anger dissipated in the wake of the guard’s collapse and Deo's display of healing. Seizing the moment of collective astonishment and quiet, Deo addressed her and those gathered, his voice carrying a new weight.
“I saw a figure shrouded in mist,” Deo began, his gaze sweeping over the faces before him, ensuring he had their full attention. “At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but hearing about the mist from the guard... it can't be a coincidence. Someone, or something, capable of masking their approach with mist brought these bears here. That's why the guard mentioned it.”
His words hung in the air, a theory that provided a crumb of explanation amidst the swirling questions and fears, before an excited hubbub resumed once more. The female guard, her attention now firmly on Deo and the remarkable healing he had just performed, saw an opportunity. “Oh fantastic, you’re a healer,” she exclaimed, a note of relief threading through her voice. “EVERYONE! Healer over here! Come line up by me, and he’ll see to you.” Then, realizing the presumption in her announcement, she glanced sheepishly towards Deo, adding, “Erm, sorry, assume that’s okay?”
Deo raised an eyebrow towards the guard but gave a small nod to confirm his assent. Within minutes a disorderly queue snaked in front of him, as a procession of townsfolk, each bearing the marks of the day's harrowing events, lined up for a chance to be healed. By his side, Pyro lay contentedly, gleefully chomping on his reward, providing implicit support to Deo as he focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, Elena took the initiative to gather the champions, directing their efforts towards clearing the debris and destruction left in the wake of the bears' rampage. The aftermath of the assault, while visually devastating, had miraculously resulted in relatively few serious injuries and only one fatality – the poor man that had been catapulted into his own woodworking shop. Deo prioritised his time by addressing the most urgent cases first. Though none of the injuries were as critical as the guard's had been, there were numerous serious gashes and cuts that required his attention.
As he worked methodically through the backlog of injured citizens, Deo's hands glowed with healing energy, closing wounds and easing pain with each application of his power. The process was taxing and he soon found himself taking small breaks to recharge his mana and focus, yet the gratitude in the eyes of those he helped, and the bountiful experience he gained, fuelled his resolve. Among the many who sought Deo's healing, some faces were unfamiliar, mere strangers who had fought bravely alongside him. Others, however, were known to him from the heat of battle. The butcher, for instance, approached with minor injuries, his forearms lined with a series of small cuts. As he neared, he exchanged a knowing nod with Pyro, who responded in kind with an enthusiastic bark, acknowledging the shared ordeal they had endured. He tried to offer up more meat in gratitude, but Deo turned him down on his kind offer.
Soon after, Jerome, the stout villager who had only been armed with a skinning knife, approached Deo for healing. Accompanying him were the two others who had initially helped him the skirmish - the gangly apple deadeye and the burly wielder of a leg of ham. Their voices filled the air as they slowly made their way to Deo.
“I can’t believe we left our weapons back at the inn,” the gangly man muttered, a mix of frustration and disbelief in his tone.
“Well, everything's a weapon for you, isn’t it, Jeremiah?” the burly man retorted with a booming laugh. “I think that bear nearly felt that final apple you lobbed at him.”
Jerome gave a small chuckle at their exchange. “Now come on, Justin,” he intervened with a voice of reason. “Without his distraction, I’d most likely have been slashed to ribbons. And besides, he did manage some damage.” He gave Jeremiah a nod of appreciation, acknowledging the role his unique tactics had played. “I definitely feel a bruise coming on where that apple missed the bear the first time,” he added, causing Jeremiah's expression to sour slightly under the light-hearted jest.
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“Pfft, well, I’m not the idiot charging in with a ruddy leg of ham, am I? Could your small brain not find a weapon slightly more impactful than that?” Jeremiah shot back towards Justin.
“Ooh, he’s having a go, ain’t he?” Justin replied, unfazed and with a mock-serious tone.
As the trio reached Deo, Justin, with a hint of mischief in his eye, was the first to address Deo as they arrived. He pulled out a purse, jingling it slightly. “Ah, young druid. How much for healing? Extra payment is available if you can prune that walking tree down into a normal human?” he said, a boisterous laugh following his words as he pointed towards Jeremiah.
Deo, slightly taken aback by the offer but quickly regaining his composure, waved away the suggestion of payment. “No, no, no payment needed,” he assured, his tone gentle yet firm. “What appears to be the issue?”
Jerome stepped forward, revealing a series of scrapes along his arms, the badges of his narrow escape from the bear. “Got all these scrapes as I dived away from the bear. Anything you can do about it?”
“Of course, just hold still a moment,” Deo responded. He then activated his Verdant Surge, the familiar green glow enveloping his hands as he focused on healing Jerome's injuries. The scrapes, red and angry moments before, began to fade under the warm light, the skin knitting back together as if by magic, which well, it was.
Jeremiah, who had been watching with avid fascination, couldn't contain his awe. “Amazing,” he breathed out, his earlier grumpiness forgotten in the moment. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Deo”, he replied quickly, his attention still partially on his task.
“Well, Deo, if you ever need any help, you just let the Jays know,” Jeremiah offered with a grin.
“Erm, thanks, I guess?” Deo said, a bit unsure how to respond to the offer but appreciative nonetheless. Once the healing was complete, the three men shook his hand, their gratitude obvious despite their teasing nature. With nods of thanks they walked off, leaving Deo to continue his work. Not long after, Deo found himself in need of a break, and signalling his intent to those around him, he laid down, closing his eyes to better focus on replenishing his drained mana His brief moment of peace, however, was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of booted feet rapidly approaching. Curiosity piqued, Deo sat up, his eyes scanning the vicinity to catch sight of the new arrivals.
Among the figures approaching was a group of soldiers Deo recognized from the other day, their disciplined march setting them apart from the townsfolk. Leading them was a commanding officer, a stern figure whose presence commanded immediate attention. The group made a beeline for Elena, Damien, and the other champions.
“How did I know I’d find you here,” the officer addressed Damien with a mix of frustration and accusation, his stance rigid and confrontational.
Elena, stepped forward, placing herself between Damien and the captain. Her voice was calm, yet firm as she addressed the officer, “In fairness, Captain Isak, we didn’t have time to deliberate, or contact you. The attack was very sudden.”
The captain's demeanour, initially edged with anger, visibly softened at Elena's words. “Ah, apologies, I came in quite forceful,” he conceded, his tone easing. “All of my interactions with the villages outside the town said the attacks mysteriously ceased a number of weeks back. I thought we’d be able to head home, at long last. Now we’ll have to spend more time here to hunt down these red-eyed fiends.”
Elena corrected him, “Ah, I think it was actually a different attack this time. These four beasts didn’t have the tell-tale red eyes that all the previous stories allude to. Besides, Deo said there was a figure shrouded in mist directing the attack.”
“Deo, who’s Deo? Scrap that, doesn’t matter,” Isak brushed off the question, his mind clearly racing with the implications of Elena's report. “A figure shrouded in mist, you say? And this can be confirmed? This is far more important than just some beasts running amok. We need to get back and report to the Duke immediately; he needs to hear this in person.”
What why?” Damien retorted. “We can handle one lone misty magician. What’s got you scared all of a sudden?”
The captain just responded with a silent, weighted look at the swordsman.
“Fine,” Damien conceded sullenly after a tense pause, the weight of the situation and the captain's silent message clearly hitting home.
The moment of tension slowly dissolved as Captain Isak turned back to his duties, signalling to his men. "Right, I’ll see you back at the inn. We’ll be leaving at first light tomorrow." With a sharp command, he and his soldiers executed an about-face, their disciplined steps taking them back down the road, leaving a palpable sense of urgency in their wake.
In the aftermath of the captain's departure, Elena, Damien, and the rest of their group made their way over to Deo. The brief camaraderie that had formed in the heat of battle now faced the reality of impending departure. "Looks like we’ll be heading back to the capital tomorrow then. Will you be ready by then, Deo?" Elena's voice was soft, tinged with concern.
“What?” Deo exclaimed, he notion of leaving his life behind seeming absurd to him. "I won’t be going back with you to the capital; I’ve got a farm and a home here. I won’t be abandoning that in a hurry."
“Oh”, Elena replied simply, clearly surprised and taken aback by his response.
“Suit yourself farmer boy”, Damien said, still simmering from his earlier confrontation.
After a moment's pause, as if recalibrating the conversation's direction, Elena offered a practical suggestion. “Well, we can at least exchange contact details?”
“Of course,” Deo replied with a smile.
After a brief exchange and assurances of staying in touch, the group, much like the soldiers before them, began their departure. The discussions, filled with plans and promises, gradually faded as they moved in the same direction as the soldiers, each step taking them further from the battlefield they had shared and back towards the responsibilities awaiting them in the capital. Deo watched them go, before he was interrupted by a pair of system messages.
[New Message from Lena] "Deo, I heard about the attack at the gate! Are you ok? Don’t worry about me - I’m safe back at the Twilight."
Deo quickly typed back, “All fine here, I should be back shortly and can fill you in.” Then he looked down to see his second message.
[New Message from Elandor] “Deo, I’ve arrived at the north gate. I heard there was an attack at the south one? Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ll find you there?
Deo couldn't suppress a small smile at Elandor's accurate guess. Swiftly, he replied, sharing a concise summary of the day's events to satisfy Elandor's curiosity and concern. He informed him that he was indeed at the site of the attack but would be returning to the Twilight Hearth Tavern within the hour and mentioned that his companion, Lena, was already there.
After responding to his messages, Deo turned his focus back to the remaining townsfolk lined up for healing. One by one, he addressed their wounds, the green glow of his Verdant Surge skill a constant presence as it worked to mend flesh and bone. With each healing, Deo felt the dual satisfaction of aiding his fellow townspeople and the personal growth of his abilities. The process, however, was not without its toll.
[Skill Level Up! Verdant Surge has reached Level 6!]
The accomplishment was a bright spot in the aftermath of the day's chaos, yet it came at a cost. His head throbbed with a persistent ache, a clear sign of mana depletion and the physical strain of channelling so much energy. Hoping to find a moment of peace and recuperation, Deo attempted to shuffle off, hoping for a quiet retreat to his tavern. However, his departure was anything but unnoticed. Townsfolk, now aware of his role in the day's recovery, approached him with words of gratitude and praise. Their appreciation, while heartfelt and well-intentioned, became overwhelming for Deo, who craved nothing more than a moment of solitude and rest.
Navigating through the crowd, Deo found himself hemmed in by well-wishers, each eager to express their thanks or share a moment with the healer who had eased so much pain. The attention, though flattering, only served to heighten his exhaustion and the pounding in his head. Pyro, sensing his growing discomfort, gave a large howl, drawing the attention of the crowd. Seizing this opportune moment, Deo slipped away. He found refuge in a back alley, its quietude a stark contrast to the fervour he'd left behind. With each step away from the main thoroughfare, the noise and clamour of the town faded, replaced by the comforting silence of his own company, before he was soon rejoined by Pyro.
Deo and Pyro soon reached the tavern, and upon entering, they were immediately greeted by the sight of Lena and Elandor engrossed in conversation, their heads close together over a table laden with the day’s accumulations. Noticing his arrival, they made room for him, their expressions a blend of relief and curiosity. Deo, seizing the moment to enjoy a good rest from the day’s activity, fetched a trio of flagons from the bar and placed them on the table with a thud that drew attention to his return.
“Tell us everything,” Elandor said, his eagerness palpable. He leaned forward, his interest in Deo's recounting of the day's events clear in his attentive posture.
Despite his growing exhaustion, Deo obliged, detailing the commotion at the gate, the unexpected attack by the bears, and the subsequent healing. His narrative was filled with the intensity and chaos of the battle, a stark contrast to Elandor’s ensuing tales of exotic locations and the relatively tame adventures of trade.
The conversation then shifted to a topic of mutual interest. “So, the Celestia seed?” Elandor inquired, a hint of anticipation colouring his voice.
“It’s ready,” Deo confirmed, a note of pride in his achievement evident, even within his weary voice. “I can finish the final growth cycle when we return. I assume you’ll want to be there to see it.”
Elandor’s response was immediate and enthusiastic. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he pumped his fist in the air. “Yes, of course! I knew it was the right approach and risk to give you that seed. Barbara cursed me for a fool, but I knew it would pay off.”
“Anyway, enough from us,” Deo shifted the focus of the conversation, “How has your day been Lena?”
Lena, beaming with pride, revealed her success. “Well, you’ll be glad to know I’ve sold all the wares we brought,” she said, pulling out a heavy bag of clinking coins and passing it over to Deo. “I’ve also identified three potential groups or companies that we may be able to persuade to come guard our village. We’ve got the Dirtwallow Company, the Huntsmen, or the Jumping Jacks.”
“What an odd sounding bunch”, Deo muttered.
“I’ve set up meetings with each of them for tomorrow,” Lena continued, her organizational skills shining through. She then turned to Elandor, seeking his insight. “Do you know much about them, Elandor?”
Elandor paused, considering his response as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. The Dirtwallow Company specializes in protecting mining expeditions. They charge quite heavily and tend to be quite risk-averse. The Huntsmen are the opposite. They are very happy to take on any risky endeavour. But they do tend to be... Hmm, how do I put this? Bloodthirsty?”
“And the Jumping Jacks?” Deo prodded, curious about the last group.
“Odd,” was Elandor’s succinct assessment. “That’s the only way I can describe them. They're a very eccentric bunch. Loyal to a fault, though, but hard to secure their services. It’s difficult to know what motivates them, to be honest.”
They discussed the options further for a short while, but it wasn’t long before Deo felt his fatigue weigh down on him. “Well, that’s enough for me today anyway,” he declared. “I’ll see you both tomorrow. Assume you’re ok to wait until we’ve concluded our business before we leave, Elandor?”
“Works for me,” Elandor responded, the clink of his glass against the table serving as a sign of his agreement and a farewell for the night.
With that, Deo retreated upstairs, Pyro at his heels. The day's exertions, both physical and mental, had taken their toll, and he was more than ready for the respite that sleep promised. Flopping onto his bed, the comfort of the mattress beneath him and the steady breathing of Pyro nearby were the last things he was aware of before sleep claimed him, drawing a curtain on the day's tumultuous events.