Divine Healer: Rise of Charlie Kirkland

CHAPTER 7 — Vitality Exchange

The fox lay on its side in the dirt. Its chest rose once, then again. Blood still darkened its fur.

Charlie stood a few steps away. He did not move. His hands stayed open, fingers stiff. The fox twitched. One leg kicked. Its ears flicked.

Charlie took a step back. Gravel slid under his boot. The fox rolled onto its belly. It pushed itself up with shaking legs. The wound along its ribs had closed. Only a thin line remained.

Charlie’s jaw tightened. He watched the fox breathe. Each breath came easier.

The fox shook itself. Dried blood cracked and fell away. Its eyes locked on Charlie.

Charlie felt his arms go heavy. The weight settled into his muscles. His shoulders sank.

He clenched his fists. The skin on his forearms pulled tight. The fox took a step. Then another. Its gait steadied fast.

Charlie swallowed. His throat felt dry. His stomach twisted. The fox bared its teeth. A low sound came from its chest.

Charlie’s knees bent without thought. He lowered his center. His muscles felt packed, dense, like wet clay.

The hunger hit him. It came hard and sudden. His vision dimmed at the edges.

Charlie grabbed his stomach. He staggered sideways and caught himself on a tree.The fox lunged.

Charlie raised his arm. The fox slammed into it and bounced back. The impact jolted him but did not break his stance.

The fox skidded and turned. It circled once, then fled into the brush. Charlie did not chase. He leaned against the tree. His breathing turned rough.

His stomach cramped. A sharp pain cut through him. He slid down the trunk and sat in the dirt. His hands shook.

He reached into his pack. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. He pulled out dried meat. He tore it open with his teeth and shoved it into his mouth.

He chewed fast. He did not taste it. The hunger did not ease. He ate again. Then again. His jaw worked until it ached.

The pain dulled but did not leave. Sweat ran down his neck.Charlie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He forced himself to stand.

The forest stayed quiet. Leaves rustled. Somewhere, a bird called once and stopped.

Charlie took a step. His leg moved smooth and strong. Too strong. He stopped and flexed his hand. The fingers closed with ease. The grip felt solid.

He pressed his palm to his chest. His heart beat slow and heavy. He looked at the blood on the ground where the fox had fallen. It had soaked into the dirt.

Charlie turned away. A faint sound ticked in the air. Charlie froze. Words formed in front of him. They hung still, pale and clear. “Vitality Exchange: Cycle Complete.”

Charlie stared. He did not blink. Another line appeared. “Energy refined through restoration.”

Charlie reached out. His hand passed through the words. His stomach clenched again. He bent forward. The words did not fade.

Charlie spoke once. His voice came out low. “What cost.” The words shifted. “Balance maintained.”

Charlie laughed once. It was short and dry. He leaned against the tree again. His breathing slowed.

Footsteps sounded nearby. Charlie turned. A man in gray robes stepped into view. His hair was tied back. His eyes went to the bloodstain.

He stopped when he saw Charlie. His hand moved to his belt. “You heal beasts now,” the man said.

Charlie did not answer. He stood straight. The man stepped closer. He looked at Charlie’s arms. His gaze lingered. “Your aura is wrong,” the man said.

Charlie shifted his weight. The ground felt firm under his feet. The words in the air flickered. Only Charlie seemed to see them.

The man reached out. “Show me.”

Charlie shook his head. The man’s eyes narrowed. He stepped back and raised his hand.

The air pressed down. Leaves flattened. Charlie felt the pressure hit him. His muscles locked. Then they held.

He took a step forward. The man paused. His hand wavered. Charlie took another step. Each movement felt clean.

The pressure broke. The man stumbled back. “What did you do,” the man said.

Charlie closed the distance. He grabbed the man’s wrist. The grip stopped him cold. The man gasped.

Charlie released him at once. He stepped away. The man clutched his wrist. He stared. “You drained it,” the man said.

Charlie shook his head. “No.”

The words shifted again. “Energy returns through completion.”

Charlie pointed at the words. “Read.”

The man followed his finger. He frowned. “I see nothing,” the man said.

Charlie lowered his hand. The hunger flared again. He bent at the waist. The man watched him. His stance changed. “You pay for it,” the man said. “That is theft.”

Charlie straightened. He wiped sweat from his brow. “It closed the wound,” Charlie said. “Then it closed me.”

The man’s eyes flicked to the trees. He took a step back. “You should not speak of this,” he said.

Charlie took one slow breath. He let it out. The words faded. The man turned and left. His steps were quick. Charlie stayed still until the forest settled again.

Charlie sat on a flat stone near the stream. Water moved past his boots. He held his hands over the current. The skin looked normal.

He lowered one hand into the water. Cold bit at his fingers. He pulled it out and watched the droplets fall.

The hunger stayed low but present. It waited. Charlie took a piece of meat from his pack. He ate it slow this time.

His jaw worked steady. He stopped when the hunger eased. He looked at the stream. A fish darted near the surface.

Charlie reached out and closed his hand around empty water. He pulled back. He stayed still. The words did not appear. The air stayed clear.

Charlie breathed in. He held it. He let it out. He pressed his palm to his forearm. The muscle felt firm.

A cut along his knuckle stung. It was shallow. He watched it. Blood welled and then stopped.

The skin drew together. It sealed. The hunger nudged him. It was light. Charlie ate again. One bite.

He nodded once. Footsteps sounded on the far bank. Charlie looked up.

A young woman stood there. She wore the same gray robes. Her hands stayed visible. “I saw the fox,” she said.

Charlie did not move. He watched her stance. “It ran,” she said. “It should not.”

Charlie dipped his hand in the water again. She crossed the stream. She kept her distance. “They say you break rules,” she said.

Charlie shrugged. She looked at his hands. “You look full.”

Charlie took a breath. He let it out slow. “It goes around,” he said.

She frowned. “What does.”

He stood. The stone scraped under his boot. “Wounds,” he said. “Strength.”

She studied him. She took a step back. “That is not allowed,” she said.

Charlie picked up his pack. He slung it over his shoulder.“They taught it wrong,” he said.

She shook her head. “Healing takes.”

Charlie stepped past her. “Healing finishes.”

She did not follow. Charlie walked into the trees. His steps were quiet. The forest closed behind him. Leaves brushed his arms.

He stopped once and ate. Then he kept moving. The hunger stayed sharp but clean.

Charlie did not look back.