CHAPTER 134: TESTING THE HEALER

Chapter 132: Testing the Healer

The three of them had stopped in a quiet grove along the path, the hush of leaves carrying only the sound of crickets and the occasional whisper of the wind. Ethan turned to Sylvie, his expression unreadable.

"Let’s see how much you can heal... for now."

Before either girl could question him, he drew a dagger from his inventory. The blade gleamed in the sunlight, and without hesitation, he dragged it across his wrist in a clean slash. Blood welled instantly.

"M-Master!" Sylvie cried, horror tightening her voice.

"Don’t panic," Ethan said calmly, holding his arm out toward her. "Heal it."

Her hands trembled, but she placed them forward. A faint radiance shimmered at her fingertips, spilling outward in a soft, green glow.

"[Luminous Mend]."

The magic washed over Ethan’s wound, warm and soothing, knitting flesh and skin together until no trace of the cut remained.

Ethan flexed his wrist and smirked. "Hoh... this feels nice. So—how many cuts like that can you heal before running dry?"

Sylvie lowered her eyes, voice quiet. "A-around... ten, maybe fifteen... if they’re like this."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully. "I see."

He was silent for a moment, then—without warning—he began unfastening his armor and tugging his tunic over his head.

"Ethan!" Lirael’s voice shot like an arrow, sharp and alarmed. "What do you think you’re doing?"

He glanced at her with a crooked smile. "Don’t get it wrong. I’m testing something."

The sunlight fell across his bare torso—hard muscle, toned body. His presence seemed heavier without his gear, his sheer physicality impossible to ignore. Behind him, Sylvie’s cheeks burned crimson, her thoughts scattering.

So strong-looking...

But before her gaze could linger, a strange ripple crawled across the ground. A golden shadow stretched outward like liquid light, coalescing into a tall armored figure. A soldier, clad in silver steel, materialized before them, helm concealing its face.

Sylvie gasped, stumbling back. "Wh-what is that?!"

Lirael quickly caught her shoulders, steadying her. "Don’t be afraid. It’s one of Ethan’s summons."

"S-summon? Master can... summon humans?"

"Not human," Lirael corrected softly, eyes narrowing on the figure. "It’s dead. Look closely."

Sylvie forced herself to stare—and shuddered. The soldier’s skin beneath the armor was pallid, its body unnervingly still.

"B-but... it feels alive..." she whispered.

"Yeah. They always do," Lirael muttered. "That’s just his absurd power."

Before Sylvie could gather herself, the knight moved. With a sound like steel tearing air, its blade flashed—slamming across Ethan’s back in a deep slash.

"Ethan!" Lirael screamed.

"M-Master!!" Sylvie’s eyes widened in horror.

But Ethan merely grunted, steadying himself. The wound was deep, blood dripping down his spine. He had commanded it himself—lowered his defenses so the strike would cut him.

He turned his head slightly, voice firm. "Sylvie. Heal it."

Her throat was dry, but she nodded quickly. "Y-yes!"

Again, her hands glowed with soft green light. The magic worked, slower this time, sweat breaking across her forehead as she forced the gash closed.

The soldier struck again. Steel carved another red line across Ethan’s back.

"Master!!" she whimpered, panic rising, but Ethan didn’t even flinch.

"Focus," he said coldly. "Heal it."

She obeyed—once, twice, again and again—her energy thinning like sand through glass. By the time the fifth wound was sealed, her body trembled and her vision swam.

Then, something flickered across her system interface.

Soul Link Established

Subject: Sylvie Hartwell

Type: Master–Servant

...

Designation: Servant (Hollow Crown takeover Complete)

Name: Sylvie Hartwell

Age: 20

Race: Human (Awakened)

Class: Saintess (Holy Lock) (Sharing will be done when lock is removed)

Level: 10

Unallocated Stat Points: 40 (Inaccessible) (20 - 0) [Assignable]

Strength: 1.5

Vitality: 2.5 - 3.5

Constitution: 2.0 - 5.0

Agility: 1.5

Stamina: 2.0 - 3.0

Intelligence: 3.0 - 8.0

Mana: 2.5 - 12.5

Sylvie froze, staring at the glowing window only she could see. "M-master... my stats... what happened to me?"

Ethan turned, blood drying against his skin, and spoke with calm certainty. "Don’t worry. It was me. It won’t harm you. So—do you feel different? Stronger?"

She gasped softly, her body pulsing with a strange warmth. Her mind felt much clearer, mana surging through her veins like water rushing into an empty well. "Y-yes... Master... I can heal more now."

Ethan’s lips curved in a faint, approving smile. "Good. Because you’re going to heal until you pass out."

Her eyes widened at his bluntness—but she nodded, determination flickering beneath her fear.

And so it went on. The knight’s blade rose and fell, Ethan’s blood spilled, and Sylvie’s trembling hands poured light into each wound. Her face glistened with sweat, her breath ragged, but she didn’t stop—not until her knees gave way beneath her.

By the time she finally collapsed, unconscious in Lirael’s arms, she had healed Ethan not ten times, not twenty—but nearly sixty deep slashes, each one proof of the power she never knew she had.

Ethan exhaled slowly, dismissing the knight into shadow once more. His back bore no trace of wounds, but his eyes lingered on Sylvie’s fainted form, a rare look of respect passing over them.

"She it good...very good," he murmured.

Lirael brushed the sweat-soaked strands from Sylvie’s face, nodding softly. "She already is."

Ethan crouched beside Sylvie’s fainted form, her breathing shallow but steady. He uncorked a small vial he had purchased back when he was reaching Iridale border city—a translucent potion with a faint blue glow—and carefully tilted it to her lips.

"Easy now... drink."

A few drops slipped past, then more as her throat reflexively swallowed. Within moments, a trace of color returned to her pale cheeks, her chest rising with steadier breaths. She remained unconscious, but no longer looked on the edge of collapse.

Ethan let out a breath of relief. She’ll recover.

Only then did he notice the sticky dampness on his back. The gashes were healed, but blood still clung to his skin, drying in dark streaks. He straightened slowly, a thought occurring. What if...?

Closing his eyes, Ethan stretched his will outward, tugging at the water element around him. At first it resisted, like silk slipping through his grasp. But with a firm push of intent, a thin stream coalesced in the air, glimmering as it danced. He shaped it into a narrow ribbon, guiding it carefully across his back.

Cool liquid slid over his skin, wiping away the blood in smooth, gentle motions. He coaxed the water to curl and rinse, as though he were scrubbing with an invisible cloth. When he finally dismissed it, his skin was clean, pale and unmarked.

From behind, Lirael whistled softly, eyes wide. "Well... that’s impressive. That could save us time on the road when we don’t have the chance to wash properly."

Ethan cast her a sidelong glance, lips tugging into a sly smirk. "Yeah... and it could be useful in bed too. When I’m drenched head to toe in your fluids."

Lirael froze. Her face flushed scarlet, ears burning as she sputtered. "Y-you—! Bastard!" She turned her head sharply, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Ethan chuckled under his breath, pulling his tunic back over his shoulders and fastening his gear. With a thought, the armored soldier dissolved into motes of golden shadow, vanishing like mist.

His eyes softened as he turned to Sylvie again. She looked almost peaceful in her sleep, lashes brushing her cheeks. He bent and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest in a princess carry. She was light, fragile, yet the faint warmth of her body reassured him.

"Come on," he said, adjusting her gently. "She needs rest. We’ll find an inn before night falls."

Lirael fell into step beside him, still flushed but quiet, stealing a glance at him every so often as the fading sunlight painted gold across the horizon.

Together, they walked toward the town, the first stars beginning to blink awake in the deepening dusk.