A soft groan echoed through the dimly lit chamber. Eliana’s eyelashes fluttered, her mind slowly surfacing from unconsciousness. The familiar warmth beside her gave her pause. She turned her head, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders as she took in her surroundings.

She lay on a worn but surprisingly soft bed, the texture rough against her fingers. The air smelled damp, carrying the unmistakable scent of stone and water. Her sharp eyes darted around the room, scanning every detail with caution. A single barred window allowed only a faint glimmer of light through the cascading veil of water outside.

Her heart tightened. Where…?

Then, she heard a voice beside her. Gentle. Familiar.

"We've been captured, dear," her mother murmured, her voice laced with exhaustion. "I’m fine though… Just a slight headache."

Eliana turned fully, her gaze settling on the Elf Queen, who lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Despite her regal composure, the queen’s usually radiant blue eyes were dulled by fatigue.

"Mother…" Eliana whispered, barely above a breath.

Slowly, she sat up, her body sore but functional. Then, without hesitation, she moved toward the small, caged window. Water streamed down in thick sheets, obscuring her vision beyond it. She pressed her palm against the damp stone frame, peering through the falling torrent.

Is this a waterfall? she wondered.

The Elf Queen’s voice broke her thoughts.

"Careful, Eli," she warned softly. "Just beyond these walls… are very dangerous people."

Eliana nodded, already sensing it. Her mind sharpened as she activated her search magic. Instantly, she felt the presence of dozens—no, hundreds—of Unbound scattered throughout the hideout. Their auras pulsed with strength, radiating unrestrained power, untamed and unpredictable.

She exhaled. "Yes. I feel it too."

Returning to her mother’s side, she sat down on the bed. A tired smile ghosted her lips as she leaned against the queen.

"For this to happen on the day I got you back… is this good luck or bad?" she mused.

The Elf Queen let out a weary sigh and sat up, gently brushing a strand of Eliana’s hair behind her ear. "Your father must be worried right now."

Eliana’s eyes softened. She reached up, grasping the small pendant around her neck.

"He’ll find us. I’m sure of it." She ran her thumb along the cool surface of the jewel in its center. "Because I have this."

The queen’s gaze lingered on the pendant, recognition flashing in her eyes.

"Your father gave that to me… the day we married," she murmured. A nostalgic smile played at her lips. "It suits you."

Eliana glanced down at the pendant. "He gave it to me for situations like this. With it, he can find me anywhere."

Before the queen could respond, a commotion erupted from beyond the room. Raised voices—heated and urgent.

Eliana’s brows furrowed. She stood, walking toward the door.

"Where are you going?" the queen asked.

Eliana pressed her ear against the wooden surface, listening intently.

On the other side, a fierce argument raged.

---

"Gustein! My sister is dying!" Valerius’s voice thundered through the hideout, his desperation raw and unfiltered.

"So is Lisa!" Beily snapped, stepping forward with fire in his eyes. He turned to Gustein, his tone low and dangerous. "You’re going to heal her first, Leporid."

Gustein’s mind spun wildly. Damn it, they're the first Elvheins I've encountered—I can’t let the girl die. But… if I don’t save the Valphraxsis girl, they’ll kill me!

His eyes flickered to Festron’s corpse, still cradled in Sumshus’s arms. The gaping wound in his chest was a void of charred flesh and silence.

He’s already dead. Not even my abilities can bring back the dead.

He turned, looking at Lisa, then past the crowd to Ziraiah lying motionless on the table. His thoughts raced.

Wait. I’m being stupid. They’re putting so much pressure on me… I forgot—I can save them both.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward, moving toward Lisa. The crowd parted reluctantly, murmurs and tension thick in the air.

As he passed Sumshus, the man’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Where are you going?" Sumshus’s voice was low and dangerous. "I told you to heal him."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Gustein hesitated, his throat dry. "He… he is dead. I can’t bring the dead back to life."

Silence fell over the room.

Sumshus’s grip on Festron’s body tightened. "What?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

From across the room, Omfry—who had been seated at the bar—finally spoke.

"That’s enough, Sumshus," he said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. "Let him do his work. Before we lose Lisa as well." His gaze turned toward Valerius. "And you, Elvhein. Not another word."

---

Eryndor barely noticed the commotion around him.

He was still performing CPR, his hands pressing against Ziraiah’s burned chest, willing her back. His jaw clenched. His heart pounded.

Then, suddenly—a gasp.

Ziraiah inhaled sharply, smoke escaping her lips as she exhaled in ragged breaths. Tears welled in her eyes, streaming down her soot-streaked face.

"It… hurts…" she whimpered, her voice weak but alive.

Eryndor’s arms trembled. Relief crashed into him like a tidal wave.

"You’re going to be okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Gustein will heal you."

Valerius, still kneeling, stared at his sister’s ruined body. His fists clenched. Rage swelled within him like a storm.

Gustein ignored the tension pressing in on him. He knelt beside Lisa and reached out, his fingers barely grazing her wrist. A faint glow emanated from his palm.

The crowd watched in eerie silence.

Slowly, Lisa’s burns began to fade. Her cracked, charred skin regenerated, fresh and unblemished as if she had never been injured. Muscles mended, nerves realigned, and even the faintest scars vanished. It was as though time itself had reversed its cruelty.

Beily exhaled, his eyes widening. "Is healing magic supposed to be this… efficient?"

Jeriana, standing nearby, crossed her arms. "He’s not using magic. He must be a Seed user."

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.

"Another Seed user?" someone whispered. "No wonder Dreados brought him here."

Jeriana smirked. "Seeds always outdo magic."

A man in the back spoke up. "How lucky are we to have another Seed user? And a healing type, no less."

Gustein clenched his jaw as he worked. He knew the truth of his ability, but he also knew what it meant to be seen as valuable. He wasn’t about to correct them—not yet.

His Seed granted him unparalleled healing, allowing him to repair any injury, cure any disease. But it was not some divine miracle—it was science, a meticulous manipulation of life itself.

His gift allowed him to see through the body on a cellular level. He could perceive damaged tissue, severed nerves, even the unseen flaws within a person’s organs. More than just seeing—he could interact. He reconstructed cells, stimulated growth at an accelerated rate, and forced the body to mend itself in ways nature never intended.

But there was a cost.

To wield such precision, he had to understand the body in its entirety. Every bone, every muscle, every organ—its function, its composition, its weaknesses. Without knowledge, his ability was useless. That was the limit of his Seed.

He exhaled, stepping back as Lisa stirred, her breathing even, her complexion restored.

The whispers in the room turned into something else.

Awe.

Gustein stood, wiping the sweat from his brow, but he knew—this was only the beginning.

---

As Lisa’s final wounds vanished, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished, Gustein exhaled deeply, the tension in his body momentarily easing. His hands trembled slightly, but he had no time to rest. He turned, his eyes locking onto the next patient.

Ziraiah.

Her body lay motionless on the table, her scorched flesh barely clinging to what remained of her charred frame. Eryndor knelt beside her, his hands still shaking from the relentless effort to keep her alive.

Gustein stepped forward.

As he moved past Valerius, he felt the weight of an intense gaze bearing down on him. Without breaking stride, he flicked his eyes sideways, meeting Valerius’s glare head-on.

Why is he looking at me like that? Gustein wondered, unease creeping up his spine. I’m not the one who burned his sister.

“Gustein, you must hurry,” Eryndor urged, his voice strained, raw from shouting and desperation.

Gustein reached for Ziraiah, extending his hand to remove the tattered, soot-streaked jacket that Eryndor had used to cover her.

But before he could, a firm grip caught his wrist.

Eryndor’s fingers tightened around him, his grip unyielding.

Gustein’s brow twitched in irritation. “I need to see her injuries to heal her,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Unless you want her to die, let go of me.”

A moment passed. Then, slowly, Eryndor’s fingers loosened, and he pulled back, though his hands trembled with hesitation.

Gustein stripped away the jacket and took in the full extent of Ziraiah’s condition. His stomach twisted.

Her flesh was cooked to the point of near carbonization, her cheeks burned away, exposing her raw gums and gleaming white teeth in a grotesque grin. Her hair was completely gone, her scalp blackened and split with deep fissures. The skin along her arms and torso had peeled away in places, exposing the muscle beneath—some of it barely holding together, tendons clinging like charred strings.

His fingers twitched. My goodness… She’s even worse than the other one.

He leaned in closer, scanning over her unmoving form. His mind reeled with medical calculations, assessing the extent of the damage.

Third-degree burns across nearly 90% of her body. Severe epidermal and dermal destruction. Necrotized tissue. Massive fluid loss. Smoke inhalation—her lungs…

He narrowed his eyes, pushing his ability deeper. His vision sharpened, penetrating beneath her skin as if peeling away layers of reality itself. He saw past the seared muscles, into the very organs struggling to function within her broken frame.

And then he saw her lungs.

The inside was lined with thick layers of soot, the alveoli struggling to take in what little oxygen remained. Blackened streaks of carbon coated the inner tissues, obstructing airflow.

Her lung function is critically impaired. If I had come any later, she would’ve suffocated in her own body.

His gaze moved lower, passing through her ruined diaphragm, then further—toward her heart.

He stopped.

His breath hitched.

Only one?

His vision zoomed in, scrutinizing the lone organ beating sluggishly in her chest.

Isn't she… Elvhein?

A memory flickered—his encounter with Kaelan, who had been beaten to death’s door by Quihote, another unbound. That man had two hearts. Every race on Yilheim had at least two.

So why does she have only one?

His eyes sharpened further, plunging into the cellular structure of the organ itself. He saw the rhythm of her heartbeat, the composition of her cells… and something else.

Something abnormal.

“What the…” he muttered under his breath.

Valerius, standing at his side, stiffened. “What happened?”

Gustein straightened, masking his shock. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

Valerius didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing more.

Gustein shook his thoughts away. He would analyze this later. Right now, Ziraiah was dying. He placed his hand against her forehead and exhaled sharply.

Focus.

He felt the energy of his Seed coursing through his veins, intertwining with the flow of life itself.

Elvheins aren’t supposed to be like this, he thought. And I’ve read too many books about their biology to be mistaken.

A gentle glow radiated from his palm, spreading over Ziraiah’s body in pulsing waves. Her flesh, once charred beyond recognition, began to change. The blackened edges of her burns softened, flaking away like dying embers. Beneath them, fresh layers of skin regenerated, smoothing over the raw muscle and bone.

Her cheeks, which had once been hollowed and exposed, slowly reformed—the smooth curve of her face returning as flesh and tendons reknit themselves. Her hair, once nothing but ash, began sprouting from her scalp in black waves, growing inch by inch as it shimmered under the soft glow of Gustein’s healing energy.

The crowd watched in silence.

The impossible was unfolding before them.

Her broken body pieced itself back together, as if time itself had reversed its cruelty.

Then, finally, the glow faded.

Ziraiah’s breathing steadied. The last remnants of her wounds vanished, leaving behind only smooth, unblemished skin.

Gustein swayed slightly.

“Gustein,” Eryndor said, stepping forward, “your face…”

Gustein exhaled, his voice low and sickly. “I’m fine… this just… takes a toll on me.”

His features were gaunt, his skin sunken, his eyes hollow. He looked as if he had aged years in mere minutes, his body drained beyond reason.

His legs nearly gave out, but he caught himself, swallowing the dizziness creeping over him.

Healing on this scale always demanded a price. And today, he had paid it.

---

To Be Continued...