(Nathan)

Nathan glanced at Dylan. "Do you know that guy?" They both watched the elf with too many blades clinking down the street. Lifeforce showed the adventurer at 34% health. A moment later, it dipped to 32%, then jumped back to 34% after the rugged elf healed himself again.

“That’s Charles.” Dylan stood motionless, the cloth bag swaying from his fingertips—the same one Charles had tossed to him before running off.

The rugged elf had vanished for nearly half an hour, only to reappear in front of them, teleporting without warning. His body was a patchwork of cuts and scrapes, his clothes just as ragged. Nathan worried the other guy looked worse.

“We should get you back to the hospital, fast.” Nathan watched Dylan’s health bar. It was rising—just far too slowly.

Dylan’s face remained deathly pale, his nose, lips, and ears blackened with frostbite. “You’re from the hospital? How’d you know I was gonna get hurt?”

“I didn’t,” Nathan muttered. ‘This is all my fault.’ He hadn’t unlocked many restoration abilities. ‘I never should’ve left him alone.’ But he had more than enough offensive abilities—he might’ve been able to fend off the assailant.

“I’m your caseworker for this contract,” Nathan sighed. “I’m so sorry this happened. Once you’re patched up, I’ll make sure your contract gets reassigned to someone more competent.” He cast Metabolize again.

“Why?” Dylan’s health still hadn’t hit double digits.

Nathan rechecked Dylan’s head, concern growing. False Life should’ve been suppressing any traumatic amnesia, shock, and even his concussion. “Because I panicked and left you alone.” He gently grabbed Dylan by the jaw, turning his head side to side. “You sustained serious injuries while I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Dylan shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve died,” he said casually.

Nathan waited for his lawful orb to chime in—nothing. ‘Is Polygraph broken? Can abilities even break?’ It wasn’t like when Meekan spoke; Dylan wasn’t skirting around anything. ‘Did I hear that right? He’s died before?’

“Oh, hey, there’s some healing potions in here.” Dylan peeked into the bag, holding it open with both hands. “Can I just use one?”

‘Oh Mother, please don’t let him use the terrifying adventurers’ expensive potions.’ Then again, it might come down to that if they didn’t reach the hospital soon.

Nathan shook his head. “Not yet. You’re not in danger of dying right now. The hospital’s just a short walk away.” He pointed down the street.

“Yeah, we stopped by last night. They couldn’t help with my vermilion ivy rash. Wait—that’s weird. It’s not burning, itching, or tingling.” Dylan stared down at his legs, baffled.

“I can take care of that for you.”

“You can?” Dylan looked up. His eyes brightened with hope, a smile spreading across his face.

“At the hospital.” That was enough to get the chubby man moving. “But we need to hurry.” Nathan set off down Market Street, and, thankfully, Dylan followed.

“What’s the rush? The day shift going home early or something?”

“No. The ability I used on you is going to expire,” Nathan said, carefully avoiding its name, “and when it does, you’ll be in a lot of pain. It’s masking how serious your injuries really are.”

“Can’t you just…” Dylan wiggled his fingers. “You know, do it again?”

Nathan kept his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to answer—or lie. “What do you mean, you’ve died before?”

Dylan launched into the story of his not-so-daring escape from the Ebonscale stronghold as they headed to the hospital. He was just getting to the part about landing in the lake when he suddenly went quiet.

Nathan had been diligent about recasting Metabolize each time it wore off, but Dylan’s health hovered at 11%. False Life made him feel like he was over half health, masking his other injuries. Nathan watched as Dylan doubled over, shivering.

“N-N-Nathan,” Dylan’s teeth chattered, “I d-don’t feel so good.”

Nathan quickly scooped Dylan up, cradling him in his arms. The shivering, chubby man was heavy, but still within Nathan’s strength to carry. He hurried the rest of the way to the hospital, hauling Dylan as gently as he could.

“We need help out here!” Nathan shouted as he neared the hospital doors, hoping Sabath would hear him. Moments later, Sabath appeared, holding the door open as Nathan squeezed inside. “Fetch me a stretcher.”

Sabath darted into a nearby bay where the stretchers were kept. He raced back around the corner with one, parking it in front of them. “Who’s this guy? What happened to your contract?” Sabath asked.

Nathan carefully laid Dylan on the stretcher. “He is my contract.”

Sabath shot him a puzzled look. “Mother have mercy. What did you do to him?”

‘Abandoned him,’ whispered an intrusive thought. Nathan shoved it aside. “Nothing. We’re taking him to my office.”

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Sabath walked the stretcher backward as Nathan pushed. He hit the double doors with his back, and they swung open, locking into place as the three of them passed from the reception area into the main thoroughfare. The doors would automatically close after fifteen seconds.

“Make a hole!” Sabath called out as they raced down the hallway. He quickly switched from walking backward to jogging alongside, steering the stretcher.

“Sinclair!” Nathan spotted a colleague with a potent health restoration ability.

Without missing a beat, Sinclair hurried after them, calling out, “How can I help?”

“Very low health—can you stabilize him?” Nathan asked as they rounded the corner, his office just down the hall.

“Of course,” Sinclair said. The hallway lights flickered and dimmed as the elf cast his healing ability, absorbing the light and converting it into health. Sinclair’s body glowed mint green as the stretcher slowed, allowing him to catch up and pour the healing energy into Dylan’s frail frame.

Nathan watched Dylan’s health surge to 87%. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

Sinclair nodded and jogged back to his station. Nathan felt a wave of uselessness wash over him. Mender was his archetype, but he hadn’t unlocked a single health-restoring ability. He didn’t count Metabolize; it would be powerful when combined with healing-over-time abilities—too bad he didn’t have any.

“Thank you, Sabath.” Nathan parked the stretcher in the center of his office, stepping on the foot pedal. The wheels shifted into stationary posts. Their stretchers served triple duty as exam tables, patient beds, and transportation.

His office, like all physicians’ offices, was a dual-purpose space. The front half was for examinations, treatments, and procedures. Cabinets, a sink, and a countertop lined with various medical devices filled the area, though Nathan rarely used any of them—he relied on a more effective ability to diagnose patients. The back half of the office housed his desk, a large comfy couch, and a simple chair.

“You found him like this?” Sabath asked, bending down to open a cabinet and pulling out a linen blanket.

“Yes. Wait, no,” Nathan quickly corrected himself. “First, I found him uninjured, then there was a fire.” Nathan helped Sabath drape the blanket over Dylan, who had passed out in the hallway.

“A fire? Should we expect more injuries?”

“No. Well… actually, yes.”

“Quite the contradiction today,” Sabath mused. He was unapologetically blunt, trying to ground Nathan.

“Sorry, an injured adventurer—maybe more—might stop by. If they haven’t already, but not because of the fire.” Nathan held Dylan’s wrist, checking his pulse. ‘Quick. Is over 100 normal for a human?’

Sabath stepped aside, giving Nathan space, ready to jump in if needed.

“I made a mistake. I ran to get help with the fire instead of staying with him.” Nathan gestured toward Dylan. “He was attacked, and... I almost didn’t make it back in time.” He turned to Sabath. “Can you get his contract reassigned? He’s been through enough—he deserves someone competent.”

“Did you know he’d be attacked?”

“No, but—”

“Did you really need help with the fire?”

“Yes, but—”

“No,” Sabath said bluntly, turning and walking out of the room.

“No?” Nathan hurried after him.

Sabath spun around, his expression firm. “I’m not reassigning the contract.”

“But I made a mistake. He—”

“That’s your problem. Don’t make it mine. Sounds to me like you made the right call with what you knew. Besides, do you have any idea how much paperwork it takes to reassign a contract?”

Nathan looked away, shaking his head slightly. “No.”

“Neither do I.” Sabath resumed walking toward his station. “And I plan on keeping it that way.”

Nathan stood speechless, watching the sassy elf walk away.

“Water?” a raspy voice croaked from his office.

Nathan hurried to the sink, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. He filled it quickly and brought it to Dylan. “Are you hungry?” he asked, helping Dylan sit up to drink.

Dylan wrapped both hands around the mug, taking a greedy gulp. “Sadly, no.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Nathan asked, wondering if loss of appetite was a symptom.

Dylan propped himself up on one elbow. “No. It’s a flak thing.”

Nathan adjusted the stretcher, inclining the top half so Dylan could sit more comfortably. ‘Did he say flak? Where’d he find that?’ Flak was an ancient elven provision his people used to explore new or inhospitable worlds. It kept for an exceedingly long time, providing the body with a day’s worth of nutrients. His people had settled on Xel’oria millennia ago. ‘Surely flak doesn’t last that long?’ Curious to confirm he heard correctly, he asked, “Flak?”

“Yeah.” There was a hint of annoyance in Dylan’s voice.

Nathan placed both hands on the bed railing. “How long have you been off your world?”

Dylan scrunched up his face in thought. “Four, maybe five days?”

“Not even a week, and you’ve already found flak?” Nathan’s brows and ears perked up.

“I don’t know how you can stomach that stuff.” Dylan grimaced. “It’s awful.”

“I’ve never had flak,” Nathan admitted. He’d only heard of it, a lost tradition buried in elven history.

“I’d offer you some, but thankfully, Charles hasn’t given me another loaf.”

‘The scary adventurer has access to flak?’ Nathan had to admit, the thought of trying the ancient provision was tempting. “That explains why you’re not hungry. When did you last eat?” He wanted to make sure Dylan’s next meal would be ready.

“Last night.”

“You’ll join us for dinner, then. We should talk about... well, everything.” Designed to hold even lithkai, the stretcher barely shifted as Nathan sat on the end. Dylan looked small, like a plump child in an enormous bed. With almost nothing to go on—one person couldn’t represent an entire race—Nathan wondered if all humans were six fingers shorter than elves.

“What about magic? Can we talk about magic?” Despite everything, Dylan’s harrowing experience hadn’t dampened his spirit.

“Sure, that’s an excellent idea. I’d like your permission to use some magic on you right now, if you don’t mind.” Nathan waited for his response, not wanting to make any more assumptions on Dylan’s behalf.

Instead of answering, Dylan tilted his head and asked, “Does magic always require permission?”

‘This poor man.’ The question twisted Nathan’s gut; he didn’t want to force his magic on Dylan. They’d only just met, and Nathan didn’t even know him well enough to say if he’d want to be brought back after death. ‘What have I done?’

Nathan frowned. “Yes and no. Ideally, morals guide us, along with the rules and regulations of the League of Adventurers, which dictate the proper etiquette for using magic on sentients like you and me. However, nothing really stops adventurers from using it—except for the occasional innate balancing that requires a willing target for particularly powerful abilities.”

“Like absorbing a magic orb?”

Nathan nodded. “Exactly, that’s one example.”

“What do you mean by rules and regulations?”

“They’re more like agreed-upon guidelines and are only enforceable on licensed adventurers. For example, if you know the person is another licensed adventurer, you can assume permission to save their life. But if they’re mundane or you’re unsure if they’re licensed, you should get consent before using magic on them.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t wait to save me,” Dylan replied with a relieved smile.

Nathan felt a bit of his guilt lift as he took a deep breath. “I’m truly sorry about that, but I didn’t have time to ask. My other choice was to let you die, and your contract requires that I take care of both your physical and mental health.”

“Alright, go ahead. Magic away.” Dylan spread his arms wide, grinning.