The Divine Physician's Rebirth: Ascension from Silverbrook

Chapter 6: A Second Chance

“Hey, that might not be true. Old-school medicine can fix things that modern docs can't,” Dante said, not yelling, but clear. He seemed real sure of himself.

The old guy who started the argument scoffed. “Don't get cocky, kid. Look at Draven over there—legs are shot. Doctors say it's never getting better. Can your stuff handle that?” He pointed at Draven, stuck in a wheelchair in the corner. His legs were super skinny and weak now.

Dante glanced at Draven, thinking hard. “Let's see,” he said, walking over. He wasn't loud, but he seemed like he knew what he was doing.

Draven looked up, bummed out. “I've seen all the best doctors... This chair is my life now,” he said, trying to smile.

Dante knelt down and gently picked up Draven's leg. His skin was dry and pale, and you could tell the muscle was gone. He touched his calf, checking how it felt, even though he kinda knew already. The room got quiet while he did his thing.

After a bit, Dante stood and brushed off his robe. He smiled at Draven. “Mr. Draven, I don't think you'll need that chair much longer!”

Everyone froze, staring in shock.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Someone whispered, like they were afraid to break something.

“I can fix your legs,” Dante repeated, sounding even more sure.

Everyone was losing it. People started whispering. “He can cure Draven?” Someone asked, half excited, half doubtful.

“Just bragging!” Someone else snapped.

“If Draven's legs get fixed, pigs will fly!” another guy joked, crossing his arms.

The old folks stopped their game, looking confused, not sure if they should laugh or believe him.

Dante kept looking at Draven. “Mr. Draven, I've got some needles here. Want me to try?”

Draven paused, then shrugged with a sad smile. “Sure, why not? Can't feel anything anyway. Can't hurt.”

He rolled up his pants, showing how bad his legs were. They looked like dry sticks—thin and dead.

Everyone gasped, but Dante didn't flinch. He pulled out a case from his robe and took out some shiny needles. He gently stuck the first one into a spot on Draven's calf. It clicked softly as it went in.

“Whoa? Why's that needle shaking?” one of the old guys asked, voice shaky too.

“Look—the skin's shaking too!” another yelled.

“Geez, why's it turning red?” someone else cried, pointing at Draven's leg.

“A red line!” Someone whispered, shocked.

The group was hooked now, eyes wide.

Draven frowned, looking confused and uneasy. “Ow!” he yelped, leg twitching.

“What's up, Mr. Draven? You okay?” someone asked, worried.

“Kid, pull that out!” another guy shouted, freaked out.

But Draven waved them off. “Nah, wait! It's... itchy. And kinda swollen!” He looked at his legs, surprised at the weird feeling.

“Huh? Thought you said you couldn't feel anything? How's that?” one of the old guys asked, amazed.

“I don't know!” Draven said, shocked. Just started happening. “Whoa, it's intense.” His legs were shaking like crazy, muscles twitching like they were waking up.

“Gotta hang in there, Mr. Draven. Things are coming back to life. Don't quit now,” Dante said calmly, smiling a little as he held Draven's leg still.

Draven gritted his teeth, gripping the chair. “Okay, okay,” he said, face red from the effort.

The needles stayed in for 20 whole minutes. It felt like hours. Finally, Dante gently pulled them out.

Draven sighed, like a weight had been lifted.

He shook his legs, trying to loosen up. Then, he just stood up from the wheelchair.

Everyone gasped. “Man, that stings!” Draven said, surprised.

Then he noticed everyone was quiet. He looked down and saw his feet on the floor, knees bent. He was standing. For real. He hadn't done that in ages.

“Mr. Draven, you're up!” Dante grinned, happy.

Draven wobbled, legs shaky, but he stayed up. He couldn't believe it. He shifted his weight, and the floor felt... solid. Real. Like waking from a bad dream.

“It's... it's working!” Draven choked up, voice full of feeling. Tears came to his eyes, hands shaking.

“He's a miracle worker!” someone yelled.

“Wow, are you an angel?” another cried, amazed.

“How's this possible?” a third whispered, as the others buzzed in shock.

“Kid, you're amazing!” an older guy added, eyes wide.

Dante smiled and held up a hand. “So, folks, still think this old-time medicine is junk?”

The crowd, eyes lit up, shouted, “No way! It's a treasure from our past!”

Dante nodded. “Good. If you've got problems, come see me at Silverbrook Hall. Gotta go now, gotta make lunch for my boss.”

He turned and left, leaving everyone speechless.

Back at Silverbrook, Theo gave him a look. “Didn't know you played chess. You're full of surprises. Guess I won't get paid back for those herbs.”

Dante didn't answer. He just went to the kitchen, where Zara had prepped stuff earlier.

He rolled up his sleeves, feeling good. Cooking felt as natural as healing. He quickly made herb-steamed chicken, greens, and rice, and the kitchen smelled amazing.

Theo sniffed the air. He couldn't help it—he ran to the kitchen, eyes wide. “What's that? Smells incredible!”

Dante ignored him. “Just set the table,” he said, plating the food while giving Theo a look.

Theo was too curious. When Dante turned away, he grabbed a piece of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth.

It was almost too hot, but he didn't care. “Wow! So good!” he shouted, eyes bugging out.

Dante smiled. The food was more than just dinner—it was medicine. Every bite was making him healthier.

Theo, not knowing any of this, kept eating like crazy. Well, kid, didn't think you could cook. Guess that 800 a month isn't wasted.

Dante just served himself rice, smiling as he ate.

Before they could finish, they heard a lot of noise outside.

A crowd of excited people, amazed and curious, started pouring in, wanting to see the miracle healer they'd heard about.