Chương 319: B5—Chapter 39: Seeds of Trust

The next day, I mostly handled E. R. cases again, though a few "regular" sick patients showed up—primarily children, with only two adults among them. What caught my attention was that those two adults didn't have a class. I never got sick as a kid, so I hadn't noticed any changes in my health since discovering the Gate. But now that I thought about it, Al and Mahya never got sick either. When dungeons caught us off guard, we took our fair share of injuries, but illness? Never.

I wanted to facepalm—this was the first time I'd considered how mana affects the body beyond just magical energy. Looking back on all the healing I'd done over the years, it had always been injuries. The only time I ever treated diseases was in Shimoor, or Tolarib on classless people. The rest of the day, I healed on autopilot, half focused on my work and half lost in thought, turning the observation over in my mind—what it meant and what I could do with it. Unfortunately, I didn't come up with any answers.

Mahya kept up her 'sleuthing' around the settlement but uncovered nothing new. Rue spent the day playing with the kids, having the time of his life. The real surprise came from Al—he somehow befriended two teenagers who trailed after him like ducklings, begging him to teach them alchemy. He waffled over the decision, saying, "They are good children. I do not want them to be taken advantage of." On my third day of healing, new patients started showing up.

There were no fresh injuries anymore—just people with old wounds that had healed wrong. Setting broken bones that didn't mend properly was no challenge; I'd treated that plenty of times before and was an old hand at it. The real challenge was different—people missing limbs, and one even missing an eye. My first patient was a man missing his right hand, cut off clean at the wrist.

"How did this happen?" I asked. Shame radiated off him—I could feel it.

"During the retreat, I was holding the rebels back. One of them took my hand with a sword." I patted his shoulder.

"You have no reason to be embarrassed. You saved people." His head snapped up, eyes wide.

"How did you know I was ashamed?"

"I just know. Don't worry about it. Let's see if we can give you your hand back." I channeled Regrow Flesh —nothing. A thousand mana spent, and no change. For the next attempt, I put him under with Anesthesia, cut open the skin, and tried again. Still nothing. Another 500 mana, and no results. I took a different approach. Using my scalpel, I sliced off a thin section of his stump—skin, flesh, and bone—creating a fresh open wound. Then, I channeled Regrow Flesh once more. This time, it worked.

The mana cost was brutal. I drained my entire reserve, and his hand regrew only to the base of the fingers. But it worked—that was what mattered. I kept him under and pushed forward, actively regenerating and growing the hand while staying within my limits. By the time I fully restored his hand, I was sweating like I'd been in a sauna, swaying on my feet, and had a killer headache. But mentally, I was doing cartwheels. My patient looked awful.

He had been a big guy before, but now he was just skin stretched over bone, all the fat gone. I waited for my mana to regenerate and cast Fortify Life Force several times. His color improved slightly—at least he no longer looked like a zombie—but the weight issue remained. Oh well, you can't win them all. I flopped into a chair, focusing on active regeneration, hoping the headache would ease. While sitting there, I watched my patient, trying to make sense of what I saw. Healing drained the body—that made sense.

But his new hand was maybe ten percent of the body mass he'd lost elsewhere. So where did the rest go? That thought stuck. I had plenty of medical knowledge from Earth and a lot of hands-on experience from healing people during my travels. But I had almost none when it came to theoretical knowledge as a healer. I'd always followed my gut, doing what felt right. It worked.

But maybe I was missing something—something that could make healing easier or prevent patients from deteriorating so severely after intense treatment. I'd never even checked Lis's collection for books on healing. That was a serious oversight. Lady Almatai walked in, her eyes scanning the space before landing on me. Her brow furrowed, and she gave me a startled look.

"Are you alright?" I leaned back in the chair, still catching my breath.

"Yes, I'm fine." Her gaze sharpened as she took in my sweat-drenched face and unsteady posture.

"You don't look good." I waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about it. Just drained after an intense healing session. I'll be fine once I regenerate." This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. She turned toward the bed, her eyes falling on my patient. The color drained from her face as she jerked back.

"Is this Peten? What happened to him?" I gestured toward his newly regrown hand, my movements sluggish.

"Took a lot of energy." Her eyes widened, then darted between me and Peten's hand.

"You can regrow limbs?" I exhaled, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

"You can see for yourself." She pressed her lips into a thin line. Clearly, she didn't appreciate my response. But I wasn't being cheeky—I meant it. Why ask something that was glaringly obvious? She schooled her expression back into neutrality, giving my patient one last long look before turning to me.

"Will he be alright?"

"Yes. He'll need to rest and eat more for the next few days, but after that, he'll be as good as new." Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"How much more?"

"Food or rest?"

"Food." I leaned back, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Probably twice, maybe even three times more than usual." She nodded, her expression thoughtful.

"I will give him a larger food allocation." That caught my attention. I frowned.

"You have food allocation here? Why?" Her posture stiffened.

"The settlement is growing with new arrivals. We're clearing land and expanding the outer wall, but growing crops takes time. Population growth isn't always proportional to expansion." I gestured south.

"You do realize there's an endless expanse of crop fields, orchards, and herds just beyond the forest, right?" Her eyes flashed.

"Of course, I know! That land belongs to my family." I held back a sigh.

"Then send people to forage there. Those fields have enough food to feed your settlement for years."

"And lose people?" Her voice sharpened with anger. I frowned.

"To what exactly? We didn't see any dangerous beasts in the area."

"The paralysis snakes." Her jaw tightened.

"We fight them constantly to keep them away from the city, but they reproduce fast, and there are a lot of nests between us and those fields."

"Don't you have alchemists?"

"No." Her voice carried a quiet sadness.

"We used to. Not anymore."

"What happened?" Her expression hardened.

"Some sided with the rebels. The rest were killed." Her tone was clipped, final. Something about how she said it told me there was more to the story—something that cut deep. But I let it be. It wasn't my place.

"I'll see what I can do," I said. She jerked in surprise, eyes narrowing.

"For now, I can help with the food issue. Do you have a place where you store your supplies?" Her gaze sharpened, scrutinizing me like a bug under a microscope.

"Nothing is free in this world. What are you hoping to gain?"

"Good karma." She didn't even try to hide her skepticism, her expression screaming bullshit.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, shaking my head.

"I know it sounds strange, but I like helping people. We've been to a few city-states, and they were awful. You and your people are actually trying to build a life in this new reality. So if I can help without harming myself, I will." She still didn't look convinced.

"Food is a precious commodity."

"Yes, but I have plenty and can always get more. Don't worry about it." I pushed myself up from the chair.

"Want to show me where you store it?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Is this your condition for giving us the food?"

"No." I gestured to the room.

"I could drop it here, but there's not enough room." She glanced at Peten, concern flickering in her eyes.

"Will he be alright here?"

"Yes. He'll be out for the next few hours." She gave a clipped nod.

"Alright. Follow me." Stepping outside the first palisade, we turned left. She moved with purpose, leading me past a few buildings until we reached the third warehouse from the gate. With a firm push, she swung the door open and stepped aside.

"Will this be enough space?" The warehouse was spacious and completely empty. A thick layer of dust coated the floor, suggesting it hadn't been used in a long time. I turned to her.

"I'll need to clean it."

"I can send for some girls to do it."

"No need." Stepping inside, I cast Clean every few meters. Aggressive Clean would have drained too much mana, and I wasn't eager for another headache. Clean should do the job. The space was massive—at least fifty meters long and twenty wide—so it took a solid ten minutes, but by the time I was done, the floor gleamed. With that finished, I pulled out the dry goods I still had from Earth, ones I'd already replaced with better alternatives—grain, legumes, flour, and, thanks to the last dungeon, a variety of nuts.

I also added half of the dry goods I had collected recently. They came from her family's fields, after all. I approached Lady Almatai.

"I also have fruits, vegetables, and meat. But if I take it out here, it'll spoil." She pressed her lips together, considering. After a moment, she nodded.

"Leave the fruits and vegetables here. I'll show you where the meat goes." After I dropped off the produce, she led me halfway around the palisade to a cluster of smaller warehouses shrouded in thick smoke. The air was dense, making it hard to breathe. The overpowering scent of smoked meat—possibly jerky—hung heavy and made me choke. I had to dial my sense of smell down to almost zero. Regulating my senses still wasn't something I'd mastered.

It took an ungodly amount of concentration, and the effort brought my headache back in full force. But at least I wasn't choking anymore. Inside the first warehouse, a group of people worked methodically, cutting meat into thin strips, laying them on metal mesh, and placing the mesh inside a container that looked like an oversized water heater. To the left of the door, a line of tables held neatly arranged cuts of meat, waiting for processing. Lady Almatai gestured toward the tables.

"You can drop the meat here." I unloaded the rest of the meat and fish I had from Earth—more than a hundred kilograms in total. Scratching my head, I figured I might as well go all in and empty the coolers of beef we'd collected from the first farming community. When it came to the dungeon beef, that stayed with me. I liked to think of myself as a generous guy, but even I had limits. No way was I handing over the fantastic, extra mana-rich meat.

When I was placing the supplies in the first warehouse, Lady Almatai stood behind me and quite far away, so I couldn't see her face. Now, with her beside me, there was no missing it. She was trying very hard not to cry. I could feel it, see it in the way her jaw tightened, the way she blinked a little too often. I remembered what Mahya had said about her being callous, but I had to disagree. That wasn't the expression of a woman who only cared about reclaiming her land through force. She cared—a lot.

Tuning into the emotions radiating from her, I felt relief, joy, and, oddly, shame. Suspicion flickered, but then another wave of relief came, followed by quiet happiness. That was the moment I began to trust her. She was a good leader—one who genuinely cared.