Healing Skills

Chapter 2: Lightbringer’s First Scar

HEALING SKILLS

Chapter 2: Lightbringer’s First Scar

The sun didn't rise. It burst its way into the world, flaming across the skyline of Amara as though it had something to prove.

Kael awoke to it slapping his eyes on the dorm window. His arms and legs were sore, not sore, but full of memory. It hummed like hornets behind his eyes, that weird post-reincarnation noise. Names that he had not known five minutes before were like childhood echoes. Locations, scents, food, even bullies all loaded like someone rammed an entire life into his head with a crowbar.

The humming died away. He arose. Looked around.

Children were crawling out of their bunks, like sleepy ants, and stretching and grumbling, and going off to the hall. He did not belong to them. Not really. He recalled them, all right, but without any affection. Just familiarity. The contrast between being familiar with a street and having a street as home.

Kael went to the window and looked out.

Amara.

The name fell like thunder in his head.

Steel towers studded with glowing runes. Transport glyphs flying across the sky. Markets with magical goods, magic vending machines, streetlights powered by mana, a combination of magic and technology so beautiful it was like living in the stone age compared to his former world.

Here magic was not a secret. It was infrastructure. It bled into all the wires, into all the walls, into all the sidewalks. Tech had not displaced the arcane, it had wedded it. And the outcome was a city that seemed a dream a half a millennium too soon.

The dorm emptied behind him.

Kael cracked his knuckles and asked the air, "I'm up. You going to start actually telling me shit now?"

A pause. Then the cool, medical purr of the System came back to his skull:

First get food. You're a child. Children need energy. Eat.

Kael rolled his eyes so hard it nearly counted as cardio. His fists clenched at his sides — not from rage, but from a nearly religious desire to punch something smug.

But hunger gnawed at his belly. No point arguing with an all-knowing parasite when your stomach was louder than your pride.

He descended to the cafeteria. The orphanage — sterile, plain, functional — was more of an institution than a home. Sterilized tiles. Clean magic ambient-light panels. Just enough warmth to stop you from shivering, not enough to pretend someone loved you.

He passed kids he technically “knew.” No smiles exchanged. No waves. Just shared trauma disguised as routine.

Downstairs, the smell of cooked eggs and fresh bread slapped him with a wave of déjà vu.

Behind the counter, Maren was plating up breakfast. She was a woman who moved like time didn't touch her. Apron on. Hair braided. A presence that was more elemental than maternal. From the fragments Kael had received, she was the orphanage’s chef and unofficial therapist. Her food had the strange quality of making pain feel like seasoning.

She looked up. Smiled. Handed him a plate: eggs, sausage, bread. Simple. Perfect.

He nodded. No words. Just a quiet thanks behind the eyes.

He sat near the window, forked the food into his mouth, and sifted through his new life’s memories like they were classified files.

Aside from Maren, only one other face burned bright in his mental landscape: Elira — the head of the orphanage. The woman who brought Kael in when he was little. His new world’s mother figure.

Kael murmured, voice barely louder than the window's hum, "So?"

Host. Wipe your mouth. Napkin, right side.

"...Are you fucking serious?"

He glanced around. No one heard him. Thank every god. He wiped his mouth like an angry aristocrat.

"Happy now?"

Delighted. Now that your memories have fully aligned, we can begin your growth. Focus on your healing capabilities.

Kael sighed. "Just spit it out. What do I need to do?"

To level your skills, you must use them. Your Heal ability requires actual healing. Each use grants experience to both the skill and your overall level. Simple.

"How many heals per level?"

A blue screen materialized in front of him.

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Heal

[Level 0] [0/100 EXP]

[Common] [Active]

Restore 50 HP.

Mana Cost: 25 MP

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You gain 15 EXP per successful heal, due to your current Title buff. 100 EXP levels the skill. Same applies to your base level.

Kael leaned back. "So one good bruise equals a level someday. Good to know. But... wait. You said something about killing monsters, too?"

Correct. Your other skills — hand-to-hand, projectile mastery — still contribute. Healers level slower overall. But your hybrid talents bridge the gap. Dungeon monsters will provide additional growth later.

He blinked. "You mean those nasty bastards that crawl out of the rift zones?"

Yes. Filthy things. You’ll meet them soon enough. And murder them gloriously.

Kael blinked at the unexpected venom in the System’s tone. If it had a face, it was probably sneering.

Before he could dig deeper —

“Ouch!”

A high-pitched yelp behind him.

Kael turned. One of the smaller kids had tripped, cracked his knee open. Blood. Tears. Whimpering.

The System growled with glee: Chop chop, host. Go heal the runt.

Kael hesitated. “If I heal him and someone sees, won’t I be outed as awakened?”

You had a cold this week. Lucky coincidence. Many awakeners manifest after illness. You’ll blend.

He stood. Walked.

Halfway there, he frowned. “Wait… how the fuck do I use the skill?”

Point. Focus. Say the word ‘Heal.’ Distance limit is ten meters. You’re welcome, oh great walking migraine.

Kael’s fingers curled into fists. “So I could’ve healed him from my chair. Thank you for being the most helpful voice in my head since schizophrenia.”

Too late. Everyone’s staring. Embrace the drama.

He knelt beside the sobbing kid. Didn’t know his name. Didn’t matter.

Hand out.

Focus.

“Heal.”

A yellow light flowed out of the palm of Kael, and enveloped the boy in a shroud of golden cotton. The wound disappeared. Disappeared as though it had never been.

[+15 EXP: Heal]

A bell rang in the head of Kael. Not only heard--felt, as light bends behind his eyes.

He gazed heavenward. Silence.

All the children at the cafeteria were looking. Awe. Confusion.

Then the grown-ups saw.

Maren flounced out of the kitchen. The motherly smirk was gone. Her eyes were keen. Her voice was steelier than steel.

“Kael. Now with me. We see Elira.”

Kael followed. No resistance. His chest was filled with excitement and anxiety as old lovers meeting at a funeral.

Elira.

His name hurt him in his breast. Her memories bound her to something warm and ancient not only a woman, but a pillar.

They came to the door. With her name in runes over it.

Maren did not knock. She kicked the door open.

Elira sat slumped at her desk inside. Eyes closed. Light snores. She had papers plastered to her cheek.

Bang!

The palm of Maren struck the wood.

Elira awoke with a gasp of choking, and floundered wildly, scattering files.

There was Kael. Speechless.

The impeccable Elira, found dribbling over papers.

“M-Maren?” Elira blinked her eyes, and saw Kael. Her cheeks grew red as mana wine. “K-Kael…!”

Maren interrupted the embarrassment: The boy woke up.

That silenced Elira. Fast.

She stared at Kael. Calculating. Serious.

Is that so?

Maren nodded her head once. Then to Kael: Show her.

He concentrated on Elira. “Heal.”

The flare of gold light came once more. No wound. No effect. But the magic was there.

Elira stared. She dashed to her drawer, pulled out a crystal ball and thrust it out. Put your hand to this. Apply the skill once more.”

Kael obeyed.

This time, a hologram appeared in the air - everyone could see it.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Name: Kael

Age: 8

Class: Healer

Level: 0

━━━━━━━━━━━

That’s a mana stone, the System whispered. Embedded with inspection magic.

Elira and Maren stared, breath caught.

Then Elira stood. Walked over. And hugged him.

No warning. Just arms. Warm and tight.

“Congratulations, Kael.”

His muscles locked. Then softened. He hugged back.

It didn’t last long. But it echoed.

Elira pulled away and smiled — tired, proud, something maternal laced with guilt. “Now that you’ve awakened, you’ll enter the Awakeners’ Academy when you turn twelve. Until then, we’ll prepare you. You’re not alone.”

She stamped a paper. Handed it to him.

“This goes to the orphanage’s recovery center. You’re officially a junior healer now. Train there. Learn control.”

Kael wanted to say something profound. Thank her. Cry. Laugh.

But instead, he nodded.

He stepped out of the office. Paper in hand. Path clear.

Direction: forward. Toward the healing wing.

Toward whatever came next.

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