Chapter 10

A Full-Time Healer Gradually Grows Stronger

(9)

Mesi was happily drinking when he secretly slipped out to get some fresh air. Of course, he didn’t get far before someone caught him.

“Hey, Mesi! Where are you going? You have to drink with me!”

“Gaston, please. I’ve had enough.”

Gaston laughed heartily and put his arm around Mesi’s shoulder. Then, he leaned in close and whispered,

“Don’t move around on your own. It seems there are some who harbor ill feelings towards you.”

Gaston discreetly pointed to where Durek and his group were gathered. Though they didn’t show it, Mesi could feel their subtle gazes.

“They seem to be planning a secret escape, not trusting the nobles. They might want to harm you before they do anything to the nobles.”

“That’s troublesome.”

“Haha, you’re a brave one. But you need to be careful. I don’t know about the others, but Durek has been a mercenary for 15 years. If he had a decent mana cultivation method, he would have long surpassed the Savage stage and reached the Brave stage.”

Savage, Brave.

These were细分的剑术境界。

'Savage' can be seen as the primitive stage of just starting to train, where the form is not properly established, and practicing sword techniques is more like barbaric physical training due to the undeveloped body. Those without talent or proper mana cultivation often remain at this stage for life.

'Brave' is the stage of introspection, where one begins to observe and understand oneself. It is a realm where external training shifts inward. One learns to sense mana, accumulate it in mana nodes, and master its use along with weapons. Proper mana cultivation methods are essential to reach this stage.

“I’m worried, so I’ll teach you some sword techniques. If you keep this up, Durek might end up using the sword I cherish instead of you.”

That morning, Gaston had made a promise. Mesi followed him, thinking it would help him avoid trouble and learn some sword techniques.

They didn’t go far, as they didn’t want to run into the knights on guard.

“Have you ever held a sword?”

Since Mesi had said he didn’t know how to use one, Gaston was likely asking if he had used the sword he had given him.

“Not yet. There are too many eyes watching.”

“Kid! You’re aware of the eyes too. That’s why I’ve always cherished you. Carlson! You’ve found a good master.”

‘He even named the sword…’

“Sigh… Farewell, Carlson…”

Mesi looked at the sword with moist eyes. He felt sorry for it and almost wanted to return it, but he had a principle of not giving back anything he had once accepted.

“Where did you get it? It’s clearly a good sword.”

“Curious? It’s a long story… I’ll have to tell you about my mercenary life first…”

Mesi tried to stop him, sensing the ‘too much talker’ vibe, but Gaston was quicker.

“I started my mercenary life at thirty. If a hundred people started at that age, I’m the only one still alive. How did I get here? By eliminating monsters, sending greedy clients to their graves, and killing those who betrayed me like goblins.”

Cutting to the chase, it happened during his first year as a mercenary. After completing a mission, he and his companions were returning when they encountered a transport convoy being attacked by unknown enemies.

At that time, he was suffering from the ‘first-year mercenary syndrome.’ After about a year, one starts to adapt to the job, feels like they’ve found their calling, and with half of the initial group dead, feels special for surviving. It’s a period of falling into illusions, attaching all sorts of grand titles to oneself.

Seeing the convoy in trouble, he couldn’t stay rational.

He immediately drew his sword and charged. His companions, who were behind him, followed and were swept into the battle.

And they all died.

He said no one, except him, survived.

“...They were good guys, even though it was a new mercenary group.”

Mesi wanted to ask if it wasn’t Gaston who killed them, but he kept quiet because of the good sword.

“Anyway, what can you do about it? Don’t you want to know who killed my companions and what they were trying to steal from the convoy?”

“...I’m very curious.”

Encouraged by Mesi’s response, Gaston continued excitedly.

“Right! So, I searched the convoy’s cargo, and guess what? It was nothing special. Frustrating, isn’t it?”

“Very frustrating.”

“Right! The leader of the attackers, a strong guy, died fighting the convoy’s captain. I wanted to find his body to vent my anger, but...”

The ‘first-year mercenary syndrome’ is terrifying.

“The guy had this on his waist. He must have cherished it like Carlson. It had no signs of use.”

“So you took it.”

“It felt right. And using what he cherished, how much would it hurt him? Haha!”

Gaston burst into laughter, then suddenly looked bitter.

“But, after surviving that ordeal, my thoughts changed. No matter how much I clung to Carlson, it was all meaningless in the face of death. My greed disappeared.”

For some reason, listening to Gaston made Mesi feel he could use the sword without burden.

“I’ll take good care of it.”

“Of course. Carlson is a good sword, so please treat it well.”

‘I need to get rid of the name first.’

“Shall we start? Have you ever used a sword before?”

“Once, a long time ago, in front of my master.”

After falling into this world and being discovered by his master, Mesi learned to speak and his master tried to teach him sword techniques.

“You had a master? Why didn’t you learn?”

“He said I wasn’t good at it.”

“Ah...”

Gaston looked at Mesi with a slightly pitying expression.

Mesi was also recalling that time. His master had given him a sword for the first time, and he was surprised by the cold weapon. After a few swings, his master shook his head.

His master tried to soften the blow, not wanting him to get hurt. He was a kind person.

“So, I learned a few healing and self-defense techniques instead.”

“Knowing sword techniques and being skilled in healing, your master must have been remarkable.”

Mesi was pleased by the praise, even though it wasn’t about him.

“You saved me through you. He was a great person. I must repay his kindness by teaching you sword techniques. I’m not a great swordsman, but I’ll do my best.”

Gaston demonstrated various moves like slashes, cuts, and thrusts in front of Mesi. Despite his modesty, his form was exemplary and his presence formidable.

Next, he asked Mesi to follow his moves.

‘Can I do it?’

Mesi started to mimic the moves Gaston showed.

Gaston’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, your master was indeed remarkable. He had a keen eye.”

That was surprising.

Mesi understood.

His master had never been wrong. If he said Mesi lacked the talent for swords, that was the case. Three years wouldn’t change anything.

‘What’s the problem?’

Gaston was puzzled.

Why did Mesi use the sword so awkwardly? Why couldn’t he follow the moves? What was wrong?

He was thinking like a genius, as geniuses do when teaching. They wonder why their students can’t do what they can do so easily.

The problem was that Gaston wasn’t a genius. He was good, becoming a silver-ranked mercenary in three years, but that was only compared to ordinary people.

Yet, Mesi couldn’t follow even an ordinary person’s moves. In other words, Mesi was not an ordinary person, and not in a good way.

‘What’s the problem?’

Meanwhile, Mesi was also puzzled, though for a different reason.

A tone-deaf person doesn’t realize they’re singing off-key.

Mesi was body-deaf. He didn’t realize he was using his body incorrectly and couldn’t perceive the difference between Gaston’s moves and his own.

This was a significant issue because he couldn’t correct himself.

‘This is a situation I never expected… He’s a hunter, right? How has he been hunting so far?’

Gaston finally understood his master’s deep intentions. If Mesi fought at the front, he would die. His master designed his role to support from the back.

‘I should give up, right? If his master could teach him, he would have.’

He decided to give up. He felt sorry for Mesi.

Realizing one’s lack of talent is a painful experience, and Mesi had to go through it twice.

‘If I hadn’t offered to teach him, he could have lived without knowing.’

He decided to apologize first.

“By the way, it’s a strange request, but can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead. I can’t teach you sword techniques, but I can repay you in other ways.”

“No, it’s not that. Can you try the moves you showed me while I use Heal?”

‘Heal? Healing magic? Why?’

It was a strange request, but Gaston decided to try it.

As soon as Gaston started swinging his sword, Mesi cast Heal.

Using Heal on an uninjured body only slightly improved one’s condition, so it wouldn’t have much effect on Gaston.

‘He knows he lacks talent for swords, so he’s focusing on support, right?’

Mesi’s actions were typical of a healer in group battles, providing immediate healing from the back.

Gaston could help with such practice. He moved as if in a real battle, swinging his sword to repay Mesi.

“Phew, I’ve shown you the 16 basic sword techniques. Maybe because of the Heal, I’m not tired at all.”

Despite the large, sweat-inducing movements, Gaston didn’t feel sweaty.

Hearing Mesi’s mutter, Gaston was intrigued.

“...I see, this kind of application is possible. Why didn’t I realize this before?”

Mesi’s expression was positive, even though it was a mutter.

‘Even though I couldn’t teach him sword techniques, he had a realization as a healer.’

Gaston thought.

As long as Mesi was satisfied, it was fine.

He felt a bit relieved and patted Mesi’s shoulder.

“Is this enough?”

“Yes, it’s enough.”

“Good, everyone has a role they can play. You’ve made a good decision. You’re the best healer I’ve seen, and you can definitely excel as a healer.”

Gaston left, leaving Mesi to realize there was a misunderstanding but decided not to correct it.

It was a matter of priority.

He was more shocked by what he had just discovered, so the misunderstanding seemed trivial.

Under the cold moonlight, Mesi sat down on the grass.

‘...Now I understand.’

Why his master said he wasn’t suited for swords, and what the difference was between him and Gaston. He finally understood.

‘If I had realized this usage a bit earlier, I could have learned sword techniques directly from my master.’

Shaken by regret, Mesi had a secret ability that he had never told anyone.

Or rather, he never considered it an ability. He had only recently realized it.

It was related to the Heal spell.

When Mesi used Heal, he was different from others.

At first, he thought his Heal was just superior to others.

Then, he wondered why it was superior and realized he went through an extra step.

‘When I use Heal, I synchronize with the other person’s body and senses, and I understand their body.’

It wasn’t the superficial understanding used in clichéd comfort.

It was true understanding.

From an injured person, he felt their pain, understood where the problem was, and imbued his magic with the will to heal.

This was why Mesi’s Heal was superior to other healers. Understanding completely before casting Heal was different from just looking at the wound and casting it.

Mesi had just realized the usefulness of this ability a few minutes ago.

‘If I use this ability on Gaston, can I understand his movements too?’

Mesi, coming from the modern world, knew about tone-deaf and body-deaf people. Their main issue was not recognizing the difference between themselves and others.

He couldn’t understand Gaston’s movements, and the difference was indistinguishable.

If Gaston wasn’t wrong, and if his master was right,

‘The problem is with me.’

And that thought was correct.

Mesi got up, drew his sword, and the good sword reflected the moonlight sharply.

Slowly, Mesi’s body began to move.

‘Swinging the sword isn’t the key; the focus should be on moving my body as I intend.’

Without realizing it, Mesi had grasped the essence of the Savage stage. While training in sword techniques, one is actually training the body and learning how to use it.

He gently recreated the movements of Gaston’s muscles, the subtle vibrations and elasticity, in his own body.

It was very different from how he had used his body before. The difference was shocking.

‘Is this what it’s like... Is this a whole new world!’

It was a profound difference.

It was like a colorblind person seeing the true colors of the world for the first time.

Mesi swung his sword endlessly. Sweat poured down, mixing with the grass, but he couldn’t stop.

This joy, this novelty.

He wanted to engrave it in his body so he would never forget it.

The night passed.

The End

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