A knock on my bedroom door jolted me awake. I blinked a few times, groaning softly as I sat up. "Yes?" I called, rubbing my face.

"There is a situation downstairs, and Rue explained it is connected to you. Can you come down, please?" Al’s voice was calm, but there was a hint of urgency beneath his formal tone.

I frowned, still half-asleep. "What situation?"

"You have to see it to understand."

I sighed and stretched, kicking off the covers. "Okay, give me ten minutes."

It still looked like morning, so I’d probably only slept a few hours. The lack of enough sleep hit me hard after the intensive concentration and mana expenditure from the previous day.

After a quick shower, I headed downstairs. Rue lay sprawled out on his beanbag, snoring softly, utterly unbothered by whatever was going on. Al sat in his usual composed manner, but Mahya caught my eye immediately. That mischievous look on her face was all too familiar.

She was either up to no good or having fun at someone’s expense—and judging by the way her lips twitched, I had a sinking suspicion it was at mine.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, crossing my arms and glancing between them.

Al, ever the picture of calm, simply pointed toward the door. “Look outside.”

I opened the door and froze, blinking in utter bewilderment. For a moment, I thought I might still be dreaming. Shaking my head and even closing my eyes for a second didn’t help. When I opened them again, the scene was still there—an orderly line of animals stretching from my doorstep all the way to the forest.

I counted at least fifteen in plain sight, but my gut told me there were more lurking in the shadows between the trees. The line was oddly calm, the animals standing as if waiting for their turn, each one poised with quiet purpose.

A stunning snake about two meters long was at the front of the line. Its scales shimmered in shades of red, brown, and copper, the geometric pattern almost hypnotic in the morning light. What caught my eye, though, was what it held. Clamped gently in its mouth was an ornate sword, its hilt encrusted with intricate designs that gleamed like gold.

The snake lifted its head, as if presenting the weapon to me, its unblinking eyes fixed on mine. I could do nothing but stare, half expecting someone to yell, Surprise! to break the surreal moment.

The snake rose higher, its movements smooth and deliberate, before carefully placing the sword in my hand. Its head tilted slightly, watching me with unblinking eyes as if to gauge my reaction. I stared down at the ornate weapon, then back at the snake, thoroughly confused and more than a little spooked.

It lowered its head in what could only be described as an imitation of a bow, its body coiling gracefully.

“Greetings, Healing Sage,” it said, its voice soft and deliberate, the words resonating with mana. “This humble snake begs for your help.”

I blinked, my grip tightening on the sword.

A talking snake. Great. That’s new. Let’s just hope Rue doesn’t shout, ‘Yummy snake!’

I glanced back inside, my nerves on edge, and saw Rue watching us intently from his beanbag. His ears twitched, but thankfully, he didn’t say anything inappropriate. I let out a relieved breath, silently grateful for his restraint.

Turning my attention back to the snake, I forced myself to focus. “How can I help you?” I asked, my voice steady despite the surreal nature of the situation. The entire scene felt like a bizarre dream I hadn’t quite woken up from.

“This humble snake has suffered an injury that has left me limited ever since,” it said, its tone low and reverent, every word laced with deference. Its head lowered slightly, a gesture of respect. “The noble ice wolves spoke of the Healing Sage’s ability to mend old wounds. I humbly hope my tribute is worthy of the Healing Sage’s esteemed consideration.”

I let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of my neck as I processed the snake’s words. Its tone and manner were so formal that it almost felt like I should bow back.

“Alright,” I said, waving a hand toward the house. The deck creaked softly as it extended outward at my command, creating more space for what was quickly becoming a mobile healing clinic. I summoned two treatment tables from Storage, setting them side by side—there was no way the snake would fit on just one.

Gesturing to the tables, I said simply, “Climb up.” My voice sounded casual in comparison, but it didn’t seem to mind. The snake lifted its head and began coiling its shimmering body onto the makeshift setup with grace.

The diagnosis revealed a broken spine, layers of scar tissue, and several missing scales. I focused on the injuries I could address, repairing the damaged spine and smoothing out the scar tissue. Unfortunately, the missing scales were beyond my ability to restore. They weren’t bone or enamel, and my spells didn’t extend to regenerating something so specific.

Despite this limitation, the snake expressed profound gratitude, bowing deeply after I finished.

The procession continued, with each animal bringing its injuries—and its offerings.

The next was a Fire Crane, level 39, its shimmering red feathers glinting in the soft light of the clearing. It stepped forward with a deliberate elegance, its golden-tipped wings tucked neatly against its sides. The crane bowed its head respectfully before extending one wing toward me, smooth but strained.

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A quick Diagnose revealed the issue: a poorly healed fracture in its wing that severely limited its flight and caused chronic pain. I worked carefully, mending the bone and soothing the strained muscles. As I finished, the crane gave me a plant that stank of sulfur.

“This is my humble offering,” it said in a melodic voice. “May it serve you as you have served me.”

I accepted the plant with a nod, making a conscious effort to keep my nose from scrunching at the smell.

“Al, come here a minute,” I called into the house.

Al stepped outside, and I thrust the plant into his hands, desperate to get it away from me. The sulfur stink was unbearable.

His eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Where did you get this magnificent plant?”

I pointed at the crane. “From this noble bird.”

The bird bowed gracefully. “Greetings.”

Al’s jaw nearly hit the ground, joining his eyes in their display of shock.

“When you speak to it, push intention into your words and flood them with mana. That’s how they understand me,” I told him telepathically.

Al dipped his head respectfully and said, “Greetings.”

I winced, immediately realizing the bird wouldn’t understand him. Al had released mana, but it flowed from his hands instead of being carried on the sound waves as it needed to be. Still, the bird seemed to understand him anyway—probably from context. These animals, birds, and the rest were scary smart.

Al returned inside, and I continued treating the animals. Not all of them could speak, but slowly, I began to discern which ones could and couldn’t. The ones that could talk had higher levels and felt stronger overall. Yes, I remembered to use Identify—and was quite proud of myself for it.

The next interesting animal was a Duskshell Tortoise, level 67. Its shell shimmered in hues of deep purple and gray in a pattern that resembled marble. The tortoise moved slowly, its glowing ember-like eyes peering up at me with an almost ancient wisdom.

The Diagnose spell revealed deep cracks in its shell and internal injuries, likely from a rockslide. I spent extra time repairing the cracks and mending the damage within—a slow but ultimately rewarding process.

When I finished, the tortoise briefly pulled into its shell and emerged again to deposit a glowing stone at my feet.

“This stone has been with me through many nights,” the tortoise rumbled, its voice low and deliberate. “May it guide you through yours.”

The next fascinating creature was an Ashplume Hawk, level 41. Its dark gray feathers contrasted with the fiery orange crest atop its head, which flickered like flames. It flapped awkwardly toward the table, its movements strained and uneven.

The Diagnose spell revealed severe burns to its wing membranes. I worked quickly, regenerating the damaged tissues and soothing the raw burns. The hawk watched intently. When I finished, it let out a piercing cry of relief and hopped forward to drop another plant at my feet.

At least this plant didn’t stink.

“This plant contains a high concentration of essence,” the hawk said, its voice sharp and crackling. “May it serve your needs, blessed sage.”

That was how my day continued, late into the night.

I treated an assortment of animals—some familiar, some unique local variations, and a few that were utterly alien.

A Riverclaw Otter, level 31. Its sleek, water-repellent fur gleamed in the dim light, and its webbed claws glinted like polished steel. The otter climbed onto the table with a mix of caution and curiosity.

Diagnose revealed a dislocated shoulder and a partially healed tail fracture that had severely affected its swimming. I popped the shoulder back into place and healed the tail, watching as it tested its movements with newfound ease, wriggling happily as it stretched.

As thanks, the otter placed a pearl into my hand.

I treated a furry creature that resembled nothing I’d ever seen before. It had a long, swordfish-like snout lined with short, sharp triangular teeth, and a sleek feline body. Identify called it Chunuk, level 26. The creature padded forward silently, its movements almost hypnotic, but it couldn’t speak.

I treated a series of deep scratches along its flanks, likely from some territorial battle, and it responded with a low purring sound of gratitude. It, too, left me a plant—a fragrant one this time.

A rodent, level 45, followed next. It was the size of a pony and had a pouch like a kangaroo, but it walked on all fours with a sturdy, grounded gait. Identify called it Pur. Its young, curled up in the pouch, was visibly underdeveloped.

I used a combination of healing spells to stimulate the development of its young, watching as the tiny creature stirred and let out a soft squeak. The Pur nuzzled me once before depositing a plant, its large eyes blinking slowly in what seemed like gratitude.

A Stormback Boar lumbered into the clearing, its dark gray fur bristling with static electricity. Its jagged tusks hummed faintly with energy, small arcs of lightning crackling across their surface. The boar stomped toward the table, the ground trembling beneath its bulk.

Diagnose revealed fractured ribs and torn muscles from what appeared to be a weapon. I worked carefully, mending the ribs and soothing the damaged tissue, mindful of the boar’s size and unpredictable temperament.

As I finished, the boar grunted in satisfaction, stepping down from the table and tossing a jagged fragment of its tusk onto the surface.

“This Thunder Fang carries the storm’s power,” it said, its deep voice vibrating with a hum of energy. “Use it wisely.”

The final animal of the night was a Goldflint Deer, level 44. Its golden fur shimmered as it stepped gracefully into the clearing, moving with the elegance of a dancer. Its black, flint-like antlers were sharp and angular, catching the light in a way that made them look like polished onyx.

Diagnose revealed a limp caused by a poorly set leg fracture. With care, I re-broke the bone and aligned it correctly before casting a healing spell. The deer tested its mended leg with a regal air, moving deliberately as if each step was part of some grand performance.

It stepped forward and offered a shard from its antler, delicately placing it in my hand.

“Thank you, wise sage, for your help and compassion,” it said, its voice soft and serene.

When the last animal had left, the clearing fell silent, the weight of the day’s work finally catching up to me. I sat down heavily, the array of treasures around me a testament to the gratitude of the creatures I had helped.

Al, meanwhile, had made out like a bandit with a big selection of plants. Every time I called him out to retrieve one, his eyes lit up with excitement, and he exclaimed over each one like a kid in a candy store.

Unfortunately for him, he still hadn’t figured out how to make himself understood with mana. He tried every time, but without success. Finally, with a sigh, he muttered, “This further illustrates the unusual nature of wizards’ magic,” and left it at that.

Throughout the day, Mahya occasionally peeked outside to see what I was doing. Her body shook with suppressed laughter, but she didn’t say a word.

I still had the last laugh, though. When I finished with the deer, my red light blinked to life.

Level up

+3 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom, +2 Vitality, +3 Free points

Class: Healer Level 16

Available Stats: 3

I added the spare points to Agility—it was the lowest from the core stats.

Rue padded over, resting his massive head on my lap with a tired huff, his tail giving a lazy thump against the ground.

“Well, buddy,” I said, running a hand through his fur, “I think that was the weirdest clinic I’ve ever run. But not bad, huh?”

Rue’s tail thumped once more in lazy agreement, his eyes half-closed as we settled into the calm of the night.