Gabrio tapped his writing stick on the top of his journal. His eyes were heavy. His body was so stiff that he could barely move his neck without it making a stiff sound.

The days have become hard after that battle. It came to us like a storm and left us in wonder if we could still go on. Gabrio wrote stiffly. I have been wondering my purpose and although my role in this fleet allows me to be useful.

There are days where I find myself helpless by the tide of battle. Outside, a battle is happening, and perhaps will decide the fate of our fleet. It is damning. I cannot go out without the soldiers stopping me. I understand that they intend to keep personnel that would help in the recovery of the crew.

Gabrio flinched at the sound of cannons being fired. The battle started four hours ago and the Grand-Galleon had suffered shakings and impact from shells and enemies trying to destroy it.

Gabrio continued writing.

Although it is nice of them to think that with me around. I could heal them back to life. Their trust is like a heavy mountain on my shoulders to carry. Expectations are troublesome for they believe that I can do it while most of the time I am reliant on my Master’s teachings.

I write this because today I lost a patient. Not to a gun, arrow, sword, or even to the cannons being fired at us. But to the sickness she was suffering.

Her pain was something that I haven’t experienced in treatment. And even if I knew what her pain was. I did not have the time to assess it. I could not test her with my life. This is not the same prison where me and my teacher could easily hand our patients medicine and record their effects.

Her wails echo in my ears. It is not her death that bothers me. It is their trust that I could do it. That they trusted me and my skills to save them from a disease that I had no knowledge about.

I wasn’t able to touch her corpse nor did I have the heart to dissect it. To analyze what’s wrong with her and make sure that none suffers it. It is the best choice to ask the Inquisitors for the body, but I found myself unable to do so.

The doctor inside of me told me that it is for the good of all mankind. But my consciousness said firmly to me that I shouldn’t desecrate the body of a woman who believed in me.

Gabrio squeezed his eyes. He kneaded his forehead as he moved his fingers to write.

I had not thought much about my choice. But now as I write it on paper, it has come to me naturally. The warmth that went cold. I steeled my heart, pushed the emotions, and behaved as what a Doctor would do.

It is a mask I must keep to keep them from thinking that I would be so battered. I rarely got out after my short rest with Mana a few weeks ago. She is a good friend, a knowledgeable woman whose company I enjoy.

Her knowledge in her Elven-artes eludes me. And through our simple conversations, I had decided to revise the mask that I created to imitate the vocals of the Elven-Artes and their words of power.

Gabrio looked at the mask he had created when he had spare time. It was not the same as his first one.

I felt deceitful for using my treeheart to gain entry to their morgue where they allowed me to examine the corpses of their fallen brethren before they returned to the ground. I had been able to examine their esophagus, vocal cords, and analyzed the structure of their tongue.

It is a cheap imitation of their natural God-given gifts. And through putting my own tongue through this fake elven tongue that I tried to imitate their speech.

The sprites who recently I have grown to see are a welcome addition to my lonesome life when I’m in a cabin. Dots of colors that are only for those who are blessed could see.

I have consulted Mana about them.

Gabrio stopped to look at the gray sprites that were observing the letters in his journal.

Though it seems that the other colors, to which Mana told me, are of the same color as their element tends to avoid me. The Grays, the ones that have a neutral color, seem to be the only ones who are willing to get close to me.

Mana had told me that perhaps the treeheart beating on my chest had started to change my blood. Though, I don’t understand how it would, when according to my teacher, it is the bone marrow that produces blood.

A cannon fire shook the table, moving the lamp placed next to his journal. Gabrio adjusted the lamp and placed it firmly on the holder.

I cannot mutilate myself for obvious reasons. However, I have concluded that my heart rate has become higher due to these changes. And the ability to see the sprites much more clearly than anyone. These mutations to my body did not give me the abilities of an eleven-kin, but did allow me to have their senses that can perceive the world they see.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Through these senses I have seen a change to my world and allowed me to see the stir that allows them to perceive what normal humans can’t. It took me days to accept these changes, and after getting help from Mana, who found my situation amusing. I was able to attune to these senses through a series of breathing that helped me calm my mind.

This breathing almost made me faint because of the lack of air in my head after doing it. I became lightheaded. I had adjusted the breathing pattern to suit me.

Gabrio stopped writing. He moved the mask back in place.

The battle outside is out of my role. I’ve grown used to it, but I doubt that the constant battle has made us saner. All hands are on deck and although the Lady of the Ship provides assurance.

Battles weaken the heart and worry the soul. Will the cannon sink us? Or will the spells thrown by our enemies kill us first? I don’t know which forces of the dark are we fighting nor I wonder to myself if I can keep my spirits up.

I do not claim to be strong nor my previous experiences have truly made me a man of mental fortitude. I am calm. I can function. But there is helplessness in me that stops my limbs from moving. A feeling of being unable to do anything other than wait and pray that the crew can survive the battles.

The Grand-Galleon shook.

Gabrio secures his hands on the table while watching the bookcases and the containers that are around his room. Most of them were secured by rope, yet there was worry in his heart that it would fall over.

Gabrio returned to his table and started moving his hand again. Continuing his thoughts in paper.

I have lost track of time while the battle keeps on. We have long moved away from the bay after a few arrangements and since we are the only force in the bay that is still capable of waging war. The fleet has moved to the wide river, keeping a formation while making sure that every resistance is met with extreme violence.

Entering the wide river of the Long Bay, we have met resistance, fought those who are trying to board the ships and fire on any threat. With the Blinder of Light fighting the dangerous forces, it was up to the fleet to take care of the lesser creatures.

The first days were triumph and cheers. But as weeks passed and the cannons kept on firing. It became clear that we are fighting hordes of lesser creatures. The Blinder does assist in taking out a large amount of monsters, sitting on corpses, and burning through large armies.

It shows how much power that Blinder can manifest and how the tide turns when he is around. I cannot imagine being in front of a legion of monsters. I cannot understand the feeling nor I’d like to pretend that I would.

But there is no man in this world who wouldn’t want such power. To become the one who stands in front, slaying monsters, and leading his people to victory. We stand in the shadow of the blinder of light and through that shadow that we are able to continue our journey.

The Banner of Light that he produces leads us to victory. The Lance and Sword paves the way for the fleet to continue its journey to the thousand islands where we must find the eye of the world and blind it.

Gabrio hovered his hand over the page of his journal.

Not everyone has to fight the battle. At least I tell myself that. I’m not so foolish and so hungry for battle that I would want to be part of their battle.

One must know the role you must play. My Teacher, Ruid Duard of Fort Rava, is a butcher. He had taught me things. I was his experiment. He wanted to raise a Doctor and a Surgeon at a very young age. Even a fool would learn after being taught, and in a way it made me realize how seriously lacking we are in the pursuit of medicine.

Gabrio looked at the gun on his table.

In a few months, we have improved our guns more than we’ve improved our living standards. We did find use for the steam wheel that we are using to move ships and process grains that have grown inside Arkshelled island.

Gabrio kneaded the side of his neck.

But when I say months. I feel like there is a dilation of time. As if time is moving so loosely. I had presented this silly theory to Dom. He laughed at me. I told Mana about it and she took me to Sir Bartolomeo, who explained to me that there is some truth to what I have observed.

I had deduced that it was because of the mutation of my senses that I was able to perceive this. Trying to wrap my head around the world they live in confuses me. I have spent my life in pursuit to do good with what I learn from a man who was called a Butcher.

It is not repentance, I don’t think it is. I have spent my childhood watching bad people, who do not deserve redemption, spend the last of their days in quiet solitude. There is a part of me that believes that they were sacrificed for the good of medicine.

And another part that stops me from becoming like my Teacher. To be someone who would desecrate the bodies of the deceased in the pursuit to save more lives.

And even if I did do it. The current situation does not allow me to do so.

Gabrio leaned his forearm on the table. The lamp on the table shook again. A burst of light seems to envelop the world as this familiar light from the Blinder gives strength to the spirit.

The sprites became excited as the Lady of Ship, Eletha started singing songs that made all the little sprites gather at her location. Gabrio checked his journal and jotted down.

We rely on a figure that we call the Blinder of Light. We are surrounded by strong people, and a group that could speak and sing the voices of power. And yet the power that the Blinder shows made me wonder how cruel it was for the world to put the responsibility of saving the world to a certain individual.

It bothers me that the Blinder’s life could mean the end of us all. And that helplessness and the dread of it puts great fear in me.

Gabrio closed his journal and placed it aside. He rose from his seat stiffly and went back to the clinic, groaning, and staggering while holding on to his lamp.