Prologue
It is said, one who possesses a healing class can do nothing except for treating wounds. That they’re unable to fight, or protect. Such kind is impotent on their own, left only to rely on others. Others, who can do whatever they please with them. There was a boy, who had faced that miserable truth, yet by the time he did, it was already too late. His life had been ruined to shambles, further existence would be in vain. And yet, he wouldn’t give up, even though everything that was left was to redo his own life.
It was the edge of the world, a barren wasteland filled with nothing but somber stalactites. With nothing but the setting sun to illuminate it through the crimson clouds. Such was the last and final battle of this world.
And here it was, the horned evil in the flesh, the dark monarch, reigning over all the demons, menacingly floating in the air with a pair of shiny black wings. Its mere presence would overwhelm any mortal with its black aura.
”Wretched humans! You’ve taken our resting grounds, and now you came for what’s left?!” — she snarled at the heroes opposing her. It was the queen, a young woman with straight gray curls. Too short to be intimidating, too fragile to carry all of her numerous scars, barely hidden by the bloody dress. The girl’s face was nothing but a canvas of hate, wrath and… desperation.
Three stood up against her. Blade, the hero of the sword, moderately slim woman, clad in the man’s clothes. Her fingers gripped Ragnarok's hilt, an opulent blade was brimming with holy light. The second was Bullet, the hero of cannon, a bald black man of massive stature armed with Taslam, a gun cast from the finest silver, capable of shooting cannonballs of compressed magic. And there was the third — Flare, a maiden of outstanding beauty, her hair was akin to young roses, and the eyes glittered like emeralds. The hero of magic, a rightful heir to the Kingdom of Jioral, whose power amplified Vanargand, a magic staff created from the branch of the World Tree itself. And…
Within that nightmarish desert stood another. A hero of healing, Keyaru. Although, strolling would be a better word. Not only had he no divine armament, his entire look spoke of blissful ignorance to what happened there. His neck was shackled in a heavy iron collar…
“D… Dru… gs…” And only blabbering would leave his dry lips.
“Bullet, blast her! Cover me while I cast!” — Flare spoke, raising her weapon.
“Got it” The time has come. The black giant pointed his cannon towards the demon, and the barrage of azure spheres rushed to its winged target. Each of them contained enough power to rival the spells of the fifth circle of elemental magic. The peak for human casters, with no need of any chanting.
The black wings flapped, silver headed demons dodged the deadly volley, yet the unnaturally agile gunner cut the gap between them. He tried to outflank his enemy, draw all of her attention to himself. Couple shots even reached their goal, immobilizing the target. And just in time…
“…deorum, hostis ledo meum cum malleo!” For Flare vocalized her strongest spell. A pillar of lighting launched upward, before charring the very skies. It was Mjolnir, a hammer of two mighty thunder gods. Only one human was able to call upon it, and she grinned, as the demon queen was about to be struck by her tremendous power.
And yet, the horned girl, although burned, gathered all of her strength to stop the onslaught with outstretched arms. Magic barrier halted the thunderstorm, yet the latter would not dissipate.
“Finish her!” — the pink haired princess shouted.
“I can handle this shit.” To which Blade would gladly oblige. The victory was at hand, and yet…
“YOU CANNOT TAKE ME!” — the wounded queen snarled at them. One swing of her wings was enough to summon a horde of her ethereal brethren in battle. Black horned angels darted in their foes. Blade met them with eager lunge, Bullet shot round after round, and Flare kept her staff pointed to the sky. More than half dozen shadows fell to the sword, even more to cannonballs. And yet, the swordswoman's desperate attack died out. No sooner had Ragnarok lost its shine than Blade was driven back, with her left arm broken. Only one hope remained, and its gilded glory was succumbing to a sheer divine darkness.
“WITNESS MY POWER!” And then the furious queen sent the tarnished Mjolnir back into the sky.
“Curs…” Bullet’s words remained unfinished forever, for the black lightning vociferously struck the heroes. The gunner’s massive body fell dead, his armament transformed into a white sphere. The heroes of the sword and magic were luckier, their magic defense spared them the worst. Although not for long. And while the demon queen loudly gasped, as the sweat from her forehead loudly hit the land, the last one standing made his appearance.
“C… Come here, scum! Fuck, I’m out of elixirs! You hear me, piece of shit?!” Blade struggled to stay conscious, yet she spared no sympathy for her “ally”. “Are you fucking deaf?! You… live to heal us!” More screams, more swearing, and all for naught. All four of them were heroes, god-chosen champions of humanity, and yet, Keyaru was nothing but abused. After all, heroes were mighty, almost none could harm them. And even when someone did, they had a stash of elixirs, ultimate potions at their disposal. With them they could restore everything but lost limbs. Expensive, yes, but nothing was too good for saving the world. Yes, the young man spared them from wasting precious medicine, but his power came with a fatal flaw. Keyaru could heal any wound, but only at the cost of bearing all the pain of the wounded. The pain of their entire lives. Excruciating suffering would madden the young man, but drugs made it first. Addictive lily liquid molded him into golem, tame and obedient, deaf to fear and anguish. He would do anything just for their cruel masters to grant him another sip of this poison.
Still, it could go on forever. At some point, The Laws of Deimos, the paradigm by which this world functioned, had blessed the young martyr with invulnerability to poisons. And when Keyaru awakened from the slumber that lasted for three years, it wasn’t only the sheer tragedy that engulfed him. Power, knowledge and experience of dozens, hundreds warriors, rulers and sages — all of this was at his hands. And his innate healing magic turned out to be a tool to not only restore bodies, but to restructure them. Including his own.
“Pff, fucking faggot, thought you’d never croak” And now Keyaru kicked his worst tormentor, his red eyes brimmed with joy.. Much to Blade's disbelief.
“Fuck, just hea… Wa…”
“Why the hell would I do so in the right mind, you bitch? Go crawl and die”
“Are you… awake?” Her confusion was nothing unusual. After all, this man-hating thing had joined the party long after Keyaru had lost his sanity.
“A year! I’ve been waiting for my chance for a whole goddamn year!” — the healer said with a brim smile on his face. The first in four endless years.
“What chance?”
“To put down the demon queen by my own hands!” And that was the time to act. The hero placed his hand on the chest, and the green burst embraced his flesh. Muscles grew tense, yet fast. “Now!” At last, Keyaru dropped his coat and launched upon the exhausted foe, who crudely waved her hand.
“Moron, you have nothing to fight with, heal…” But alas, swordswoman’s last words went ignored, faded, as winged shadows shredded her into pieces, whereas the young man dodged every affront of ethereal figures. Too slow, too crude, none could reach the hero with their claws, whereas he dispelled them with a single touch. Closer, each step drove him closer toward the silver haired lady. Only when shadows merged into a giant bird, did Keyaru stumble. The creature flapped its wings, causing a myriad of pitch black snowflakes to descend upon the hero. And even then…
“Saltare et aurugine ventis!” Even then did he manage to surprise the queen. With his arms risen, a firestorm had swallowed the giant bird whole. With no shadows to hide behind, the winged demon left on her own.
“Who are you?” — the girl asked, while barely holding in the air.
“I’m but a healer” — Boasted the young man, sparing his foe from the dangerous details of his immense abilities. Though, neither of them had a room for such pleasantries. He sprinted, while she shot the enemy with dark light coming right from her fingertips. One after another. Hero’s flesh ripped, wounds filled with liquified darkness, yet this daredevil persevered. Every hole he would patch, every burst of pain ignored, even while the lightless beams shredded the arms, Keyaru managed to protect his head. Up until he jumped.
A barely visible barrier, the last line of queen’s defense… crumbled to dust after just one touch. And then, both foes crumbled towards the ground. Yet, it wasn’t spitefulness or terror that the healer saw on the girl’s face, but a single tear.
“So, this is my end? I’m so sorry, I couldn’t pro… tect…” That concluded everything. What should’ve been the embodiment of evil, turned out to be the kindest soul Keyaru met in his twisted journey. Even more so than her…
“Don’t worry. We’ll start all over.” He said so with unexpected kindness. Even for himself. His ruinous magic of corrupting healing would leave no hope for the demon queen though. With her tanned body turning to ash, all that’s left was taking his rightful reward — The girl’s heart — a purple crystal filled with primordial energy. Take it and leave, but no, someone applauded from behind.
“Well done, Keyaru, the hero of healing. My father… No, His Majesty shall be pleased with your success.” It was Flare. Aside from her usually white and red clothes being dirty as a rag, nothing would hint her surviving this deadly encounter.
“So, you have hidden an elixir?” — he asked with nothing but contempt in his voice. Although the magician couldn’t bother hiding the bottle, the young man could imagine her surviving the blast on her own. After all, this revolting woman had killed tens or even hundreds of thousands recently, and all these deaths empowered her.
“This rock is cursed, you should hand it to me, the hero of magic.” She would go on, her mere sight was enough for Keyaru to vomit that rotten rubbish the “heroes” fed him recently.
“This is the philosopher’s stone” He wouldn’t even bother glaring at witches' direction. The hero of healing knew all too good, why and how would he need his treasure.
This world had been a home to humans, all kinds of demi-humans, monsters, gods and demons. The latter were ruled by their monarch, by the will of a certain higher being. A king or queen, a vessel to the crystal of absolute power. For decades the Confederation of Demons has managed to coexist with other races, up until the Kingdom of Jioral was attacked by the southern tribes. A start of a long and bloody war. Yet, Keyaru had all the reasons to assume it was the human king, Margurth Rikil Jioral, who started the conflict by conspiring with the previous ruler of the Confederation, thus making his domain the shield of humanity, supported by all the other nations. Such a man just couldn’t be handed the stone, the risk was too great. For better or worse, Flare was unable to hide anything from Keyaru.
“Oh, you’re so wise. I didn’t know that” Lie. She breathed it.
“I know what’ll happen. You take the heart, and cast the forbidden spell to enslave the entire world. Damn bullshit. You think I’ll ever hand it to you?
“What are you talking about?” Of course she would play dump. This would work… four years prior.
“This rock holds the power of a primordial god within. I need it for healing, there is something that is in dire need of it.”
“Healing?” Although Flare was bewildered, she raised her staff in readiness to incinerate a young man, who dared to rebel against her. Despite everything, the princess was smart, and she all too well understood the amount of her power.
“Yes, I’ll revert this wretched world back to the point where I haven’t met your ugly mug!”
“You can’t be serious! Even if you do so, you’ll forget everything! Do you really want to repeat everything, you fool?!”
“Even so, nothing will erase my pain! How I lost myself, my torment, my despair! Be sure, witch, this is carved on my very soul! Even with no memory, the pain will never leave me! Farewell, bitch! Ha-ha-ha! I’ll get back! And I’ll take everything from you!”
“DON’T YOU DARE, YOU FUCKING DOG!!!” — Flare yelled, while Vanargand released a volley of deadly fireballs. Yet, it was too late.
“Can’t wait to hear the way you call me when we meet again! I HEAL THIS WORLD!!!"
And so, a bright flash erupted from the philosopher’s stone just to engulf the entire planet with Keyaru’s power. The wheel of time had moved backwards. Four years of torment, insanity were no more. And the architect of this great redo would not be spared the consequences. The hero of healing would lose his power and memory. But it had to be this way. After all, the pain of the ruined life would never perish. Even if the poor soul had to…
Prologue
It is said, one who possesses a healing class can do nothing except for treating wounds. That they’re unable to fight, or protect. Such kind is impotent on their own, left only to rely on others. Others, who can do whatever they please with them. There was a boy, who had faced that miserable truth, yet by the time he did, it was already too late. His life had been ruined to shambles, further existence would be in vain. And yet, he wouldn’t give up, even though everything that was left was to redo his own life.
It was the edge of the world, a barren wasteland filled with nothing but somber stalactites. With nothing but the setting sun to illuminate it through the crimson clouds. Such was the last and final battle of this world.
And here it was, the horned evil in the flesh, the dark monarch, reigning over all the demons, menacingly floating in the air with a pair of shiny black wings. Its mere presence would overwhelm any mortal with its black aura.
”Wretched humans! You’ve taken our resting grounds, and now you came for what’s left?!” — she snarled at the heroes opposing her. It was the queen, a young woman with straight gray curls. Too short to be intimidating, too fragile to carry all of her numerous scars, barely hidden by the bloody dress. The girl’s face was nothing but a canvas of hate, wrath and… desperation.
Three stood up against her. Blade, the hero of the sword, moderately slim woman, clad in the man’s clothes. Her fingers gripped Ragnarok's hilt, an opulent blade was brimming with holy light. The second was Bullet, the hero of cannon, a bald black man of massive stature armed with Taslam, a gun cast from the finest silver, capable of shooting cannonballs of compressed magic. And there was the third — Flare, a maiden of outstanding beauty, her hair was akin to young roses, and the eyes glittered like emeralds. The hero of magic, a rightful heir to the Kingdom of Jioral, whose power amplified Vanargand, a magic staff created from the branch of the World Tree itself. And…
Within that nightmarish desert stood another. A hero of healing, Keyaru. Although, strolling would be a better word. Not only had he no divine armament, his entire look spoke of blissful ignorance to what happened there. His neck was shackled in a heavy iron collar…
“D… Dru… gs…” And only blabbering would leave his dry lips.
“Bullet, blast her! Cover me while I cast!” — Flare spoke, raising her weapon.
“Got it” The time has come. The black giant pointed his cannon towards the demon, and the barrage of azure spheres rushed to its winged target. Each of them contained enough power to rival the spells of the fifth circle of elemental magic. The peak for human casters, with no need of any chanting.
The black wings flapped, silver headed demons dodged the deadly volley, yet the unnaturally agile gunner cut the gap between them. He tried to outflank his enemy, draw all of her attention to himself. Couple shots even reached their goal, immobilizing the target. And just in time…
“…deorum, hostis ledo meum cum malleo!” For Flare vocalized her strongest spell. A pillar of lighting launched upward, before charring the very skies. It was Mjolnir, a hammer of two mighty thunder gods. Only one human was able to call upon it, and she grinned, as the demon queen was about to be struck by her tremendous power.
And yet, the horned girl, although burned, gathered all of her strength to stop the onslaught with outstretched arms. Magic barrier halted the thunderstorm, yet the latter would not dissipate.
“Finish her!” — the pink haired princess shouted.
“I can handle this shit.” To which Blade would gladly oblige. The victory was at hand, and yet…
“YOU CANNOT TAKE ME!” — the wounded queen snarled at them. One swing of her wings was enough to summon a horde of her ethereal brethren in battle. Black horned angels darted in their foes. Blade met them with eager lunge, Bullet shot round after round, and Flare kept her staff pointed to the sky. More than half dozen shadows fell to the sword, even more to cannonballs. And yet, the swordswoman's desperate attack died out. No sooner had Ragnarok lost its shine than Blade was driven back, with her left arm broken. Only one hope remained, and its gilded glory was succumbing to a sheer divine darkness.
“WITNESS MY POWER!” And then the furious queen sent the tarnished Mjolnir back into the sky.
“Curs…” Bullet’s words remained unfinished forever, for the black lightning vociferously struck the heroes. The gunner’s massive body fell dead, his armament transformed into a white sphere. The heroes of the sword and magic were luckier, their magic defense spared them the worst. Although not for long. And while the demon queen loudly gasped, as the sweat from her forehead loudly hit the land, the last one standing made his appearance.
“C… Come here, scum! Fuck, I’m out of elixirs! You hear me, piece of shit?!” Blade struggled to stay conscious, yet she spared no sympathy for her “ally”. “Are you fucking deaf?! You… live to heal us!” More screams, more swearing, and all for naught. All four of them were heroes, god-chosen champions of humanity, and yet, Keyaru was nothing but abused. After all, heroes were mighty, almost none could harm them. And even when someone did, they had a stash of elixirs, ultimate potions at their disposal. With them they could restore everything but lost limbs. Expensive, yes, but nothing was too good for saving the world. Yes, the young man spared them from wasting precious medicine, but his power came with a fatal flaw. Keyaru could heal any wound, but only at the cost of bearing all the pain of the wounded. The pain of their entire lives. Excruciating suffering would madden the young man, but drugs made it first. Addictive lily liquid molded him into golem, tame and obedient, deaf to fear and anguish. He would do anything just for their cruel masters to grant him another sip of this poison.
Still, it could go on forever. At some point, The Laws of Deimos, the paradigm by which this world functioned, had blessed the young martyr with invulnerability to poisons. And when Keyaru awakened from the slumber that lasted for three years, it wasn’t only the sheer tragedy that engulfed him. Power, knowledge and experience of dozens, hundreds warriors, rulers and sages — all of this was at his hands. And his innate healing magic turned out to be a tool to not only restore bodies, but to restructure them. Including his own.
“Pff, fucking faggot, thought you’d never croak” And now Keyaru kicked his worst tormentor, his red eyes brimmed with joy.. Much to Blade's disbelief.
“Fuck, just hea… Wa…”
“Why the hell would I do so in the right mind, you bitch? Go crawl and die”
“Are you… awake?” Her confusion was nothing unusual. After all, this man-hating thing had joined the party long after Keyaru had lost his sanity.
“A year! I’ve been waiting for my chance for a whole goddamn year!” — the healer said with a brim smile on his face. The first in four endless years.
“What chance?”
“To put down the demon queen by my own hands!” And that was the time to act. The hero placed his hand on the chest, and the green burst embraced his flesh. Muscles grew tense, yet fast. “Now!” At last, Keyaru dropped his coat and launched upon the exhausted foe, who crudely waved her hand.
“Moron, you have nothing to fight with, heal…” But alas, swordswoman’s last words went ignored, faded, as winged shadows shredded her into pieces, whereas the young man dodged every affront of ethereal figures. Too slow, too crude, none could reach the hero with their claws, whereas he dispelled them with a single touch. Closer, each step drove him closer toward the silver haired lady. Only when shadows merged into a giant bird, did Keyaru stumble. The creature flapped its wings, causing a myriad of pitch black snowflakes to descend upon the hero. And even then…
“Saltare et aurugine ventis!” Even then did he manage to surprise the queen. With his arms risen, a firestorm had swallowed the giant bird whole. With no shadows to hide behind, the winged demon left on her own.
“Who are you?” — the girl asked, while barely holding in the air.
“I’m but a healer” — Boasted the young man, sparing his foe from the dangerous details of his immense abilities. Though, neither of them had a room for such pleasantries. He sprinted, while she shot the enemy with dark light coming right from her fingertips. One after another. Hero’s flesh ripped, wounds filled with liquified darkness, yet this daredevil persevered. Every hole he would patch, every burst of pain ignored, even while the lightless beams shredded the arms, Keyaru managed to protect his head. Up until he jumped.
A barely visible barrier, the last line of queen’s defense… crumbled to dust after just one touch. And then, both foes crumbled towards the ground. Yet, it wasn’t spitefulness or terror that the healer saw on the girl’s face, but a single tear.
“So, this is my end? I’m so sorry, I couldn’t pro… tect…” That concluded everything. What should’ve been the embodiment of evil, turned out to be the kindest soul Keyaru met in his twisted journey. Even more so than her…
“Don’t worry. We’ll start all over.” He said so with unexpected kindness. Even for himself. His ruinous magic of corrupting healing would leave no hope for the demon queen though. With her tanned body turning to ash, all that’s left was taking his rightful reward — The girl’s heart — a purple crystal filled with primordial energy. Take it and leave, but no, someone applauded from behind.
“Well done, Keyaru, the hero of healing. My father… No, His Majesty shall be pleased with your success.” It was Flare. Aside from her usually white and red clothes being dirty as a rag, nothing would hint her surviving this deadly encounter.
“So, you have hidden an elixir?” — he asked with nothing but contempt in his voice. Although the magician couldn’t bother hiding the bottle, the young man could imagine her surviving the blast on her own. After all, this revolting woman had killed tens or even hundreds of thousands recently, and all these deaths empowered her.
“This rock is cursed, you should hand it to me, the hero of magic.” She would go on, her mere sight was enough for Keyaru to vomit that rotten rubbish the “heroes” fed him recently.
“This is the philosopher’s stone” He wouldn’t even bother glaring at witches' direction. The hero of healing knew all too good, why and how would he need his treasure.
This world had been a home to humans, all kinds of demi-humans, monsters, gods and demons. The latter were ruled by their monarch, by the will of a certain higher being. A king or queen, a vessel to the crystal of absolute power. For decades the Confederation of Demons has managed to coexist with other races, up until the Kingdom of Jioral was attacked by the southern tribes. A start of a long and bloody war. Yet, Keyaru had all the reasons to assume it was the human king, Margurth Rikil Jioral, who started the conflict by conspiring with the previous ruler of the Confederation, thus making his domain the shield of humanity, supported by all the other nations. Such a man just couldn’t be handed the stone, the risk was too great. For better or worse, Flare was unable to hide anything from Keyaru.
“Oh, you’re so wise. I didn’t know that” Lie. She breathed it.
“I know what’ll happen. You take the heart, and cast the forbidden spell to enslave the entire world. Damn bullshit. You think I’ll ever hand it to you?
“What are you talking about?” Of course she would play dump. This would work… four years prior.
“This rock holds the power of a primordial god within. I need it for healing, there is something that is in dire need of it.”
“Healing?” Although Flare was bewildered, she raised her staff in readiness to incinerate a young man, who dared to rebel against her. Despite everything, the princess was smart, and she all too well understood the amount of her power.
“Yes, I’ll revert this wretched world back to the point where I haven’t met your ugly mug!”
“You can’t be serious! Even if you do so, you’ll forget everything! Do you really want to repeat everything, you fool?!”
“Even so, nothing will erase my pain! How I lost myself, my torment, my despair! Be sure, witch, this is carved on my very soul! Even with no memory, the pain will never leave me! Farewell, bitch! Ha-ha-ha! I’ll get back! And I’ll take everything from you!”
“DON’T YOU DARE, YOU FUCKING DOG!!!” — Flare yelled, while Vanargand released a volley of deadly fireballs. Yet, it was too late.
“Can’t wait to hear the way you call me when we meet again! I HEAL THIS WORLD!!!"
And so, a bright flash erupted from the philosopher’s stone just to engulf the entire planet with Keyaru’s power. The wheel of time had moved backwards. Four years of torment, insanity were no more. And the architect of this great redo would not be spared the consequences. The hero of healing would lose his power and memory. But it had to be this way. After all, the pain of the ruined life would never perish. Even if the poor soul had to…
