(Nathan)

He stared at the tablet in his hand and sighed. Outside the hall or hospital, it would be little more than a writing pad. The tech mesh in the buildings was the only way to access the League network. On house calls, for those too sick or stubborn to come in, the lack of instant access to the universe of knowledge left him feeling like half the physician he could be.

Nathan walked by Sabath’s desk and handed in the tablet.

“So, no rounds today?” Sabath joked, barely looking up from the puzzle glowing on his device.

“No,” Nathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My refugee isn’t even in the hospital or the hall.”

“Oh?” Sabath’s tongue peeked out from the side of his mouth, a sure sign the puzzle had his full attention. “Where’s he at then?”

“Merchants’ Circle,” Nathan muttered as he signed himself out of the on-call list. With a sigh, he dug into his pocket and placed the summoning stone on the counter, its absence somehow adding to his sense of inadequacy.

Sabath looked up, taking the smooth stone with a raised brow. “What in the world is he doing out there?” he asked, then promptly returned to his puzzle, the screen reflecting in his focused eyes.

“Not sure, but I should go find out.” Nathan pushed through the doors with a heavy sigh. ‘Poor thing probably got even less sleep than I did last night.’

“That one’s definitely trouble,” Sabath muttered, just as the doors clicked shut behind Nathan.

It had been a while since Nathan had walked down Market Street. The last time was months ago, when he bought a dress for Meekan’s birthday. Shopping for her was never easy; she always knew what you were going to get her before you did. But that wasn’t her fault—it was just her nature. When he once offered her gems to buy her own gift, she had simply said, “Even when you know someone loves you, it’s still nice to hear them say it.” He passed Bakugo’s Seemingly Perfect Results, the shop where he’d gotten the dress.

Nathan reached Merchants’ Circle but quickly ran into a problem. ‘What does a human even look like?’ All he had was a note about the poor man’s disfigured ears, but with no frame of reference, it was useless. He’d have to file a complaint about the registration department’s vague descriptions next time he went to the League of Adventurers’ Hall.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Nathan took a deep breath and yelled, “Dylan!” His voice barely cut through the noisy clamor of the marketplace. Chastising himself, he thought, ‘I should be more specific.’ How many Dylans could there be? Pulling up the contract, he glanced at the man’s homeworld—an odd name he’d never heard before.

Nathan shrugged and cupped his hands again. “I’m looking for Dylan. Dylan of Dirt!” he called, scanning the crowd for any unfamiliar race. “Does anyone know where I can find Dylan of Dirt?” His voice wavered slightly as he tried again.

“Nope.” “Sorry.” “Never heard of him.” “What’s he look like?” “You offering a bounty?” The responses came from all directions, none of them helpful. Nathan kept walking around the circle, raising his voice again. “Dylan! I’m looking for Dylan of Dirt!”

Nathan ended up right where he started, where the circle met the street. Sighing in frustration, he tapped his foot and realized he had completely missed the arborhearth parked in front of him. He’d heard about traveling merchants with them, but this was his first time seeing one up close.

The arborhearth was a sight to behold—pitch black and stunningly beautiful. Nathan’s eyes followed the intricate leaf and vine carvings that twined across the large cabin, framing the oval door. He bent low to inspect the sprouting roots that made up the frame, marveling at the seamless form. The bramble spawn looked weary in the sun, unable to take root.

Its beauty nearly made Nathan forget why he was there. But then the oval door swung open, and a short, stocky elf stepped out. Nathan opened his mouth to ask if he knew Dylan of Dirt, but his eyes caught on their ears. No visible scars, perfectly symmetrical, blunted—not at all what the contract had described.

“You’re Dylan.” Nathan pointed at the non-elf, taking in his oddly elf-like appearance.

“Yeah,” the chubby man sighed. “I’m Dylan.” The deep frown on his face suggested something was clearly bothering him.

“Dylan… of Dirt?” Nathan asked, still unsure. If he could just get to his ears, he’d know for certain.

Dylan closed his eyes and winced, his frown deepening. “They said it wouldn’t be a problem…” Imitating a gruff voice, he puffed up his chest and bobbed his head mockingly. “Translations don’t have consequences.” He grunted, shaking his head slowly, then switched to a more nasal tone. “Pick a world, sir. You can change it later, sir.”

This man was clearly upset. Nathan hesitated before trying to interject, “Are you—”

Dylan cut him off, resuming his usual tone and continuing his tirade. “I even tried to enter it manually, but nope, it still came out wrong.”

“What came out wrong?” Nathan asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Dirt,” Dylan replied, as if it should’ve been obvious. “The name of my planet got all mixed up in some intergalactic database… or whatever. It’s not dirt, it’s pronounced Dirt. I’m Dylan of Dirt.” He began spelling it out as awful, terrible noises escaped his mouth.

Nathan winced at the first harsh squawk. Dylan stopped spelling, glancing at him with mock annoyance. In unison, they both said, “Don’t spell!”

Exasperated, Dylan threw his head back, staring up at the sky. “I know, I know!”

‘I need to calm him down before he hurts himself.’ Nathan considered using Triage, but he hadn’t earned enough trust to ask yet. An introduction seemed like a safer first step. “I’m Nathan, by the way. I’m a physician, and I’ve picked up your contract. Which means I’m here to help.”

Dylan looked at him, wild-eyed and overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of tears or rage. He took a deep, shaky breath and reached a hand toward Nathan. But before the gesture could land, Dylan jerked his hand back, tucking it under his armpit.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

‘Odd,’ Nathan thought, watching the strange gesture.

With a defeated tone and arm tucked tightly under his armpit, he muttered, “I’m Dylan…”

“Dylan, do you—” Nathan stopped mid-sentence as the sharp scent of something charred tickled his nostrils. “Do you smell smoke?”

“What?” Dylan lifted his nose and sniffed the air. His eyes widened. “The candle!” He grabbed tufts of his hair, spinning around to see smoke billowing from the open door. Without a second thought, he started climbing back into the smoke-engulfed arborhearth.

‘What is he doing? Who runs straight into a fire?’ Nathan lunged forward, grabbing Dylan’s tunic. With a hard tug, he yanked the chubby man off the steps and into his arms as they both tumbled backward.

“Excrement, excrement, excrement, excrement… sacred excrement!” Dylan’s gaze shot upward, watching plumes of dark smoke pour out of the cabin. “He’s going to kill me.” He turned to Nathan, eyes wide with terror.

Nathan only let go once he was sure Dylan wouldn’t make another dash for the fire. “Who’s going to hurt you?” He wasn’t sure if Dylan was being dramatic or genuinely terrified—either way, he needed to calm him down.

Dylan scrambled to his feet, brushing off his tunic. “Charles. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Perhaps you’re being a bit dramatic?” Nathan stood up, trying to sound diplomatic. Dismissing Dylan’s fears outright would only make things worse, and he needed Dylan to trust him. “I’m sure no one’s going to kill—”

Dylan suddenly grabbed a fistful of Nathan’s tunic, yanking him close. “You don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice low and trembling. “He’s done it before.”

Nathan’s Lawful orb remained silent—a detail that sent a shiver down his spine. The implications were unsettling, but he’d have to deal with that later. Right now, he needed a plan before the situation spiraled out of control. ‘Clear the area, put out the fire, and then calm Dylan down,’ he thought, his mind working swiftly as if triaging a patient. He stepped back, eyes scanning the surroundings and taking in every clue.

Nearby merchants were already scrambling to move their wares away from the arborhearth. Isolating the fire would keep it from spreading. With established margins and a defined operating field, Nathan turned his attention to minimizing damage to the arborhearth. The fire had to be put out, and fast. Distracted by his planning, he lost track of the reckless, chubby man. Dylan had already dashed toward the back of the cabin.

“What are you doing?” Nathan called after him. “Get back here, Dylan!”

“I don’t know!” Dylan threw his arms up, shielding his face from the intense heat. “But I’ve seen Charles get water from this thing!” He twisted the spigot left. “Excrement, lefty loosey isn’t working…” He twisted it the other way. “Righty… loosey isn’t working either!” Giving up, he hurried back to Nathan. “I can’t get it to work.”

“The arborhearth is a summoned ability; it only responds to the one who summoned it.” Nathan glanced at the now-singed, reckless, chubby man, unsure if he could trust him to stay out of trouble. “Listen, I’ve got an idea, but you have to promise me you’ll stay away from the fire.”

Dylan nodded, and that would have to be enough—there was no time to argue. Nathan knew of a frost user, Grel’ka, who might be able to help. She’d retired from Nightshade and had recently opened a shop on Market Street. He just hoped she was open—and there.

‘You selfish idiot.’ Nathan sprinted down the street, berating himself for not unlocking more abilities. If it weren’t for his fear—his shame—of unlocking the wrong one, he might’ve had something to deal with the fire. Even a simple movement ability would’ve been more useful than he was right now.

Grel’ka’s shop was just ahead, but he couldn’t make out the sign to see if it was open. Not that he had a backup plan if it wasn’t. Silently, he prayed. ‘Oh Mother, please let—’

[Physician orb]: Lifeforce warning.

Nathan skidded to a stop, heart hammering in his chest. His head snapped back toward Merchants’ Circle. [Lifeforce] was the passive ability from his Physician framework. It showed him the health of everyone around who was less than one-hundred percent. It usually flooded him with constant triggers at the hospital, so he’d lowered the alert threshold.

He focused on a single lifeforce—less than fifty percent and dropping fast. Dylan’s. “What is he doing?! He promised to stay away from the fire!” Nathan knew some people were just wired differently. Instead of running from danger like any sane person would, they charged straight into it—usually with tragic results. Trying to be a hero was often the wrong choice.

“No, no, no, no!” Nathan shouted as he sprinted back. ‘How could I let this happen? You worthless piece of filth,’ he cursed himself. His legs and mind raced, fueled by panic and self-hatred. His selfish obsession with guarding against corruption might’ve just cost this man his life. All of this could’ve been avoided if he weren’t such a coward.

His lungs burned with effort as he watched Dylan’s lifeforce plummet past critical—zeroing out.

“No!” Nathan cried, his heart seizing painfully in his chest. He’d made the wrong call, and now all he could do was stand there, helpless, as Dylan died. He hadn’t been smart enough, fast enough, or strong enough to save the man he’d sworn to protect.

[Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 10 seconds.

Tears blurred Nathan’s vision as he bounded toward Dylan, his chest heaving with each step. He knew what he had to do, but fear clutched at his heart. ‘I can’t.’ Nathan wrestled against himself, aware that he possessed the power to overcome his failings.

[Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 7 seconds.

Nathan’s gaze locked onto Dylan’s lifeless body sprawled on the ground. ‘I won’t.’ Resurrecting another was anathema—cruel to Dylan and a blatant act of hubris against Death, Time, and Destiny. The celestial entities determined how, when, and where a life should end. But the power to fix everything was right in front of him. All he had to do was act.

[Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 5 seconds.

Not even Life itself granted the power to restore a soul to its body. Only Undeath dared to pull souls back from the maw of Void. Self-resurrection was acceptable because it acted before the soul fully departed. But this—this was different. ‘I’m sorry.’ The weight of the choice pressed down on him, a burden he wasn’t sure he could bear.

[Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 3 seconds.

Nathan froze just in front of Dylan’s body. What he should do, could do, and would do clashed violently in his mind, each warring for control. ‘I pray you both forgive me…’

[Undeath orb]: [False Life] available for 1 second.

In that final second, Nathan’s resolve shattered. He gave in to his weakness, extending his trembling hand as he cast False Life on Dylan. [False life] was a Life ability from his Undeath framework. It granted temporary undead health points—and if used within 10 seconds of death, it would bring the soul back.

With a sharp gasp, the undead, singed, reckless, chubby man’s eyes flew open as his heart lurched back to life. Nathan dropped to his knees beside him, immediately casting Metabolize, knowing he had to restore Dylan’s health before the temporary undead health points expired.

Tears trickled down on Dylan as Nathan watched his lifeforce tick slowly from zero to one percent. Mundane people usually had low natural healing factors, and Nathan didn’t have any abilities or potions on hand to speed up the process.

Once his coughing fit passed, Dylan glanced up at Nathan. “Did you just… resurrect me?”

‘What?’ Nathan’s eyes darted around, worry flaring in his chest. ‘Did anyone else hear that? How does he know?’ Forcing himself to refocus on the patient, he scanned Dylan’s injuries—the frostbite blackening his face, lips, and ears, the arc burns crisscrossing his chest, and the broken ribs that were visible even through his natural padding. “No—I mean, it was close, but I’m sure I got to you just in time.” Nathan lied, keeping his voice steady.

Dylan coughed into his fist. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure you—” His eyes widened suddenly. “Oh excrement, he’s here.”

Nathan looked up and froze. A rugged elf loomed over them, armed with three blades and a bow, his eyes cold and unblinking.