Stefan’s hand shone crimson as his skill’s healing powers seeped into old man Stam’s bruised skin, closing scrapes, helping it regain its colour, reforming ruptured blood vessels and rekniting torn muscle beneath.

  The old man had fallen on his way back home, having tripped on cobbled stone after shopping for supplies, and when he couldn’t get up, his grandchild had run to fetch someone for help. Stefan had been the only one left at the clinic.

  His parents had taken to putting him on shift rotation over a year back, ever since he’d reached level 5 and chosen healing touch as a skill.

  It was a more showy skill and though less efficient than regeneration, he found that his patients preferred it. It wasn’t much of a conundrum why, really. It minimized the amount of time they spent in pain. Still, it took him 10 minutes to replenish the amount of mana spent in a single second of using the skill. So, he’d got into the habit of starting any healing by applying a regeneration buff; then, he’d channel healing touch to take care of the worst of the wounds before leaving the regeneration buff to resolve less debilitating problems and help with lingering aches and pains.

  “Thank you, Stef,” Stam said, as he helped him to his feet.

  The man staggered as his granddaughter rushed in to hug his waste.

  Stefan smiled. “It's no matter. Healing is my purpose, after all.”

  “An old man expresses gratitude and the youngling deflects it to try and sound like an old sage.” Stam scoffed. “The polite thing is to nod and accept the praise, not to dismiss the other person’s feelings, boy!”

  “I- uh, I really didn’t mean to do any such thing, Mr, Stam.”

  “It’s ok. Just learn from it.” The man said, as he yanked the bag of groceries off his grandaughter’s hands. “Anyway, come. I must pay for your help, but I don’t have any coin on me, so you must follow me home.”

  Stefan shook his head. “I have to hurry back to the clinic, since I was the only one there when little Henna fetched me. So, I ask that you come to the clinic and pay when you’re able, instead.”

  Stam pursed his lips. “Alright, then, go on and hurry back, lest someone dies for my distracting you.”

  Stefan agreed and bowed slightly as he bid them farewell before walking off. He did this knowing that, in truth, it was unlikely there would be any such risk. He’d worked at his family's clinic for a little over two years by this point and had never been faced with someone in danger of imminent death.

  It wasn’t for lack of injuries. People got hurt all the time. It wasn’t even for the lack of fatal injuries. Accidents could easily lead to those. And there were always dungeon delvers who got in way over their heads. It was just that most people were sensible enough to carry a healing potion with them for life threatening emergencies. So, one of three things happened when someone received a fatal injury: They had a potion and drank it, nullifying most of the danger, someone around them gave them their potion, to the same effect, or, if there was no such recourse, be it because the person was too poor or too naiive to carry such a life saving measure with them, or simply because of a truly unfortunate series of events and/or unusual circumstances, the most likely scenario was that they died before they ever reached the clinic.

  So, the clinic wasn’t there to bring back those on the brink of death, though they would, if such an opportunity came. Instead, it was there to both help those whose ailments weren’t deadly and save those who still had time, be it hours, days, or even weeks or months. Well, for that and to heal the things a regular healing potion couldn’t, like illnesses and poisons.

  “Stef!” A desperate call snapped him off his musings, and he looked to to see his sister’s ragged state, as she and her party member, Gramen, the bulky man with an oval face and a ponytail, carried Leran on their shoulders. The blonde man, usually the portrait of a prince charming his sister loved so much, was now ragged, looking like half a corpse. His eyes flickered open and closed, as if he was fighting and losing to stay awake.

  Stefan froze for a moment, as he saw the stinger impaling the man’s stomach, before snapping to action. He cast regeneration on the man before he rushed through the clinic door, gesturing for them to lay the injured man on a bed. “What happened?”

  They shuffled after him.

  “We were on our way back from the dungeon.” She spoke rapidly. “And we couldn’t help him, because we’d run out of healing potions. That’s why we were on our way back. He was supposed to scout ahead and… I didn’t pull out the stinger, because I remembered how you told me once that if I ever got stabbed I shouldn’t remove the thing that stabbed me.” she trailed off as she watched her brother work.

  Stefan tore the man’s shirt off and removed the stinger so he could examine the wound. It was deep, but the wound itself wasn’t deadly.

  He moved to the cabinets to his left and opened them to remove a bottle. “In most cases, that would be the right thing to do, but not when dealing with poisons. For every moment this thing is in him, the dose injected into his bloodstream could increase. Luckily, the poisons of the monsters in our town’s dungeon aren’t particularly deadly. Taking into account the stinger, I’m guessing it was a Scorpious hound that attacked him? ” He poured potion into a measuring cup and handed it to his sister once it reached the proper dosage. “Feed this to him.”

  Leron groaned as his sister brushed his hair. She took the cup to help the man drink the concoction.

  “How did you know?”

  Stefan turned to look at Debbie, a tall lanky woman with short hair and a tiny nose, his sister’s party mage, if he remembered correctly. He hadn’t noticed her until now. “I’m not too familiar with most of the dungeon’s monsters, but, since I chose not to get a diagnostic skill, I’ve studied the poisonous ones, so I knew what to watch out for when treating adventurers, or if there ever was a dungeon overflow. In this case, the scorpious hound’s poison is a depressant. It slows reflexes and thoughts; it impedes motor coordination and in higher doses induces sleep. It isn’t life threatening, but It’s always best to rid the body of it as quickly as possible, because there’s always the chance that the liver might be overwhelmed.” He grabbed cloth and a bottle and moved in to clean and disinfect the wound.

  “What are you doing? Why aren’t you healing him?” Gramen’s fists tightened.

  Melly grabbed his arm and shook her head. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  Gramen looked away.

  Stefan gave his sister a thankful nod. “The wound is not deadly. Not unless it gets infected, which closing the wound might prevent, but it wouldn’t solve the problem if he’d already been exposed to something, and since he’s as dirty as he is, I’d say that’s likely the case. So, I have to do something to stop the infection and since I don’t know a spell that can eliminate the threat, I have to do it in a more manual fashion.”

  Leran shook slightly, with every swab. Had the poison cure worked so quickly that he could feel that much pain already? Maybe Stefan should have administered it after treating the wound. He cursed at his mistake and grabbed a vial and pipette and had the patient take three drops of the concoction. He then waited a minute for him to be fully unconscious. Dreamless potion wasn’t cheap; neither was the poison cure; but, well, this was his sister’s friend. Or was he her boyfriend? He eyed Melly, only to see the worry on her face. He shook off the unprofessional thoughts as he moved to continue his work.

  Melly and her friends watched as he bloodied towels and applied a disinfectant solution until he was satisfied and finally channeled healing touch. He injected only a conservative amount of mana into the spell, since he’d already spent a lot today and was afraid he’d be left only with his mana battery if any other emergencies were to follow. Because of this, the wound was slow in knitting itself together. But, once he was finished, Leran was left only with a jagged scar over the left side of his belly.

  Stefan smiled at the fruits of his labour and stepped back to let the others have a closer look at their sleeping companion.

  His sister broke away from the group to meet him. She wiped away a tear. “Thank you, Stef.”

  Stefan noded.

  She smiled and threw her arms around him.

  Slowly, he hugged her back. He frowned as he realized something. “I’m taller than you?”

  She snorted. “Don’t feel too happy about it, you’re still pretty short.”

  “No one’s tall in our family.”

  “Hm, there was that great uncle, Hamin, I think was his name? He came to visit a few years back.”

  “Didn’t he marry into the family?”

  “Yeah, but he took the family name, so…”

  Stefan rolled his eyes. “Going so far just to prove me wrong. You haven’t changed one bit; have you?”

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  She grinned.

  “Melly, come here!” Debby called.

  “I’ll be right back, Stef!”

  “Go ahead. I need to clean up, anyway.” He sighed as he saw the crumpled reddened towels he’d put aside.

  It was when Stefan was done with the washing and began putting away his tools and potions that the group approached, and their procession to his side of the room was tense.

  His sister led the trio with a forced smile. Her gait was stiff and she braided her hair the way she did only when she was nervous. Debbie had her eyes crossed and seemed to be avoiding Stefan’s gaze. Gramen dragged himself away from the bed, all the while looking back at their sleeping teammate.

  “How may I help you?”

  “We’ll be leaving for a bit.” Melly spoke. “We’ll come back for Leran later, and to pay for his treatment. We need to sell some things to gather some money. How- how much do we owe?”

  Stefan jumbled some figures in his head. All told, taking into account all the concoctions he’d used, the mana and the typical service charge, he’d price it at a little over two silver. However, as he saw his sister’s distraught, he couldn’t help but recall all the fights between her and their parents during the past years, to recall all the differences and the tensions that had resulted in her leaving home that one day months ago. She wouldn’t have turned to the clinic for help if it wasn't her only choice.

  Stefan shook his head. “You’re my sister. You don’t need to pay.”

  Melly’s brow was creased as she nodded slowly. The two beside her turned to him and bowed slightly. “Thank you.” they said one after the other.

  Stef nodded to them. “You can stay as long as you want, or go and return later. My shift will end in an hour, but my mother will replace me then, so the door will remain open.”

  As they turned to leave, his sister stayed a moment longer. “Thank you, Stefan, you’re a good brother.”

  “And you’re a good sister.” Stefan said in reassurance.

  She shook her head. “I could do better. This is the first time we’ve talked in weeks. I-” she paused. “I’m glad it was you here.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad I got to see you. We should meet more often.”

  “You’re right.” She fidgeted, but her gaze jumped to their parents’ portrait at a desk behind him. “It just seems like there’s never much of an opportunity.”

  Stefan didn’t think she meant a lack of time, or that she was deflecting for lack of want, so the problem was obviously a lack of place, somewhere they could find each other without all the complications surrounding their family's troubles. Fortunately, he had a solution for that. “Did you know that Heran became a crafter?”

  His sister frowned at the non sequitur. “Your friend? I can’t say it doesn’t make sense. His dad’s an alchemist, after all.”

  Stefan snorted. “Says the healers’ daughter.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get to the point.”

  “The point is he doesn’t want to become an alchemist. He wants to become an herbalist. He’s been taking farming skills and growing a garden by the westside next to where the Tarins and the Lokins live. He spends a lot of his time there and I spend a lot of my reading time with him. So, if you ever need to find me, you can look there.”

  She grinned. “I will.”

  …

  It was two days later that Hash snored at Stefan’s side as he sat on an upside-down bucket, reading Laton’s theory on Resilience and Vitality while his best friend inspected the leaves on a strange potato strain with a stem dotted in purple.

  “They’re wilting. I think I might have overwatered them.” Heran groaned. “They were drying last month; I didn’t even increase the dosage that much!”

  “I told you you were trying to progress too quickly. You should have planted something less fickle.” Stefan didn’t look away from the page.

  “But, it was doing so well until just last week!”

  “Most biological systems are incredibly adaptable and tenacious until something pushes them over the edge. They build up little faults and compensate for them in roundabout ways until they’re overwhelmed and can’t anymore. And, then, well…” Stefan shrugged.

  “I don’t need your words of wisdom, you know it all.”

  Stefan smirked. “As the gracious know it all I am, I realise you’re just saying that out of frustration, so I’ll forgive you for your grouchiness.”

  “Bastard.” He walked off to his little tool shed by the end of the field.

  Stefan turned his focus back to his book and a medical titan’s strange ideas on the system’s effects on all manner of organisms. They were surreal, really. The man postulated that the body was filled with dustlike magical particles invisible to both microscopes and mana sensing skills that both shielded vitals and gave limited aid to keep cells alive and operational when something was damaged. It was as he read about some strange experiments with regrowing limbs that he was interrupted.

  “Stef! Your sister’s here!”

  Stefan looked up to see Melly waving at him. He marked the page he was on before rising to greet her. She wasn’t in her typical combat gear. Instead she wore a simple pine dress. They hugged.

  “I hadn’t seen you in one of those for a while. What’s the occasion?”

  Melly Shrugged. “Wearing armor all the time is uncomfortable; you know?”

  “I really don’t. I’m still only level 8. It’ll be a while before I run the dungeon.”

  “About that…” Melly twidled her thumbs. “I actually came by with a proposition for you, my favourite brother.”

  Stefan’s eyes narrowed. “Out with it.”

  “What if you didn’t wait until level 20 to enter the dungeon? What if you were to enter it say… in a couple of days with an awesome aspiring team, one that has been on the cusp of reaching the deepest levels for a few months now.”

  She was here to recruit him, of all things?

  “No.” He was curt, because she knew his reasons; she knew who he was and what he was capable of, which made it all the more baffling why she would try this.

  “Just hear me out, Stef, I’m not just asking it out of nowhere; I’ve thought this through.”

  “You needn’t have; the whole idea is ridiculous. I’m not a fighter, Melly; I’m nothing like you. I don’t have great aspirations like you; I’ll run a dungeon once, once I’m as prepared as I can be, and if the gods will it, I’ll be elevated, but that’s the extent of it. I’m a healer, just like mom and dad.”

  “You’re nothing like them!” She snapped. “You don’t have great aspirations? Maybe you don’t know what they are, but you have them. You think I haven’t noticed it? Ever since you were little, you spend all your time studying; you spend every moment learning. You reached level 8 in little over a year without ever stepping inside a dungeon. Why? Because you spent all the mana and time you had to practice. And why is that?”

  Stefan frowned. His mouth opened to retort, but as her black eyes bore into him. He couldn’t answer.

  “I’ll tell you why. It’s because you want to become more.” She poked his chest. “Just. Like. Me.”

  “I-” Stefan stepped back. “You don’t-” He closed his eyes for a moment and turned away. He took deep breaths and then proceeded to pace as he tried to think things through.

  Melly looked on with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk. Stefan didn’t mind her. She had always been a terrible winner. The kind that would rub someone else’s face in for winning at something as trivial as a coin toss.

  His mind whirled as he thought it through. Why did he do what he did? Why didn’t he simply do the minimum as so many others did? He could just rely on his class skills and hope for the best, but it didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t take him long to figure out that Melly was right in broad strokes, and yet, when he thought of venturing out into the unknown, to dangerous places where all the knowledge he’d built up would mean so little, his stomach churned. It was the same feeling as when he was a small child, alone in his bed, hearing a strange noise. The fear of the dark.

  “I-” He refused to meet his sister’s gaze. “I don’t think I can do what you want of me, Melly. I’m just too afraid.”

  She walked closer and took his hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Stefan, because I’ll be there.”

  He looked up to see her smile. His breath evened out as he saw her and gripped her hand tight. “You really think I can do it?”

  “Of course, Stef. Why else would I insist?”

  He narrowed his eyes at that. “Actually, that is a very good question, why would you, why now?”

  “You see, sweet little brother,” Sweat ran down her brow. “I had seen you so apathetic the other day, and it got me thinking so, that why I…”

  Stefan’s brow furrowed.

  She turned to avoid his eyes. “That’s why, when my party refused to go deeper into the dungeon without a healer, I thought of you, with the best of intentions, of course!”

  He laughed. “And here I thought you were just acting like a big sister, for once.”

  “Hey! I’m a great big sister. Always have been!”

  “Tell that to my fish.”

  “You can’t blame me for that! I thought it would like to have a swim in the stream for once. How was I to know it would be immediately eaten?”

  “Do you hear yourself? It’s a pet fish. Who releases their brother’s pet fish? Terrible big sisters; that’s who.”

  “You-!” She shook her head. “That’s not the point. The point is that I wouldn’t ask you to join us if I didn’t honestly think it would be good for you, Stef. You must believe me in that.”

  Stefan let go of his mostly fake indignation. “I trust you, so I’ll follow you in this. But,” he cleared his throat. “I have a few conditions.”

  Melly straightened up. “Go ahead.”

  “First, you’ll help me retreat at any time I want to.” He held up a finger.

  “Well, yeah, of course. Unless it puts anyone in danger.”

  He mulled that over for a second, but agreed quickly. It was only sensible; there might be times when retreating was an awful decision. He held up a second finger. “You’ll brief me on all your party members’ roles, abilities, and equipment. I don’t want any surprises.”

  “Sure thing. You’ll have to introduce yourself to the others properly too. You left a pretty good impression on them the other day, but it’s good to get to know each other better before the fighting begins, I reckon.”

  “Finally, I want help with gear.”

  “Leave it to me! We can go shopping tomorrow!” She grinned.

  Stefan smiled back. He was still nervous, but there was a bit of excitement in him too. He’d been going with the motions for a while, so it felt good to get an objective, and clearing Tara’s dungeon, though dangerous, seemed like a good one.