Chapter 3: The Price of Healing

Chapter 3

Hay’s words prompted a moment of contemplation from both the merchant leader and the mercenary captain.

“What is your opinion, Merchant Leader? I believe it would be best to proceed as Mr. Styles suggested.”

“Indeed, for the time being, we have no alternative. We cannot possibly travel with the wounded.”

Fortunately, a decision appeared to have been made.

“Very well, I shall relay the instructions to everyone. Let us swiftly conclude the cleanup. Styles, please attend to the wounded without delay.”

“Understood.”

Hay nodded once, then departed with Hooch Edmond.

“The injured are over there.”

Hooch guided him.

A handful of porters and slaves were engaged in collecting dozens of corpses into a single pile, while others were already digging graves.

Renki was among the slaves toiling with the shovels. On the opposite side, the injured had gathered, numbering thirteen in all.

The count was lower than anticipated. Those whose injuries didn’t strictly necessitate Hay’s intervention had been excluded, a pragmatic decision considering the cost.

“What about water?”

“I had already foreseen the need and instructed them to prepare it. Ah, there it is now. You may use that water.”

Ever-prepared, Hooch had apparently given prior instructions to the other mercenaries. He gestured towards a solitary wooden barrel, brimming with drinking water, placed nearby.

“Good.”

Hay briefly examined the injured.

Eight were gravely wounded, and while the others’ injuries were comparable, none appeared immediately fatal. Nevertheless, these were wounds that absolutely could not be neglected.

Among the gravely wounded, only one individual was judged to be beyond the reach of any healing.

“This person cannot be saved.”

Hay delivered the grim prognosis with a chilling, almost cruel, decisiveness.

“Is there really nothing that can be done?”

Hooch, who had trailed after Hay to meticulously record the number of individuals treated, now wore a face etched with profound sorrow.

“Even the highest-grade healing potion wouldn’t suffice to save them. Surely, you can see the extent of the damage?”

The unfortunate mercenary, already condemned, had suffered a horrific injury—their waist utterly ripped open, as if savaged by an ‘Asteria Wolf’. Their entrails, gruesomely severed, lay spilled across the ground.

That they still clung to a thread of life was nothing short of a miracle.

“P-please, save him…!”

Another mercenary, who had been cradling the head of the dying man, now pleaded with raw desperation.

As Hay recalled, the two were unmistakably brothers, the one succumbing to his wounds being the younger.

“P-please, save Ray! Spirit Master!”

With eyes bloodshot and brimming with tears, he groped blindly on the ground, his trembling fingers seizing Hay’s trouser leg. His jaw quivered uncontrollably as a torrent of tears spilled down his face.

Hay averted his gaze from the distraught man, exhaling a heavy sigh.

“It will be no use.”

“But surely, we can at least attempt something! Anything is better than simply doing nothing…”

“As you were informed before our departure, my healing water can only be effective once per day. Furthermore, with my current abilities, its potency is merely equivalent to a low-grade healing potion. Even a high priest would be powerless to save him. Do you still wish to proceed?”

The mercenary, his eyes wide and bloodshot, nodded his head with frantic urgency. He appeared ready to bargain with a demon for his very soul, if only it would grant his brother a chance at life.

Hay moved towards the barrel, which held water filled roughly halfway. Hooch approached, positioning himself beside him.

“Will this amount be enough to treat those people?”

“It will be quite sufficient. A single cup per person is all that’s required. Consuming more does not hasten the healing process.”

Regardless, increased consumption would not, in fact, amplify its efficacy.

Hay took a deep breath, his fingers gently caressing his white oak staff, which hummed with the faint presence of spirits. He then placed his palm just above the water’s surface, closing his eyes as he began to draw upon the accumulated spiritual energy within his body.

A fleeting concern had crossed his mind—that reminiscing about Han Tae-hyun’s past life might impede his spirit magic—but it proved to be an entirely baseless apprehension.

Beneath Hay’s outstretched palm, a luminous glow began to manifest. It was a pristine white and cerulean light, exuding an aura of refreshing vitality. This radiant energy seeped into the water, shimmering for a moment before utterly vanishing.

Sensing that the water within the barrel had been entirely transmuted into ‘healing water,’ Hay released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Though the creation of healing water was a daily ritual, as natural to him as breathing, a cold sweat now trickled down his spine, betraying an unusual tension.

Approximately ten minutes remained before this potent healing water would revert to its mundane, ordinary state.

“It’s done.”

No sooner had Hay’s words left his lips than Ray’s brother surged forward, frantically scooping a cup of the water. He spilled a significant portion of it in his haste, yet he paid the loss no heed.

With trembling hands, he carefully poured the healing water into his dying brother’s mouth. Deeming it insufficient, he rushed back, scooping another measure of the precious liquid.

The healing water’s effects soon became apparent. The wounds began to close, yet his waist remained horrifyingly torn. This was, of course, to be expected, as the water did not possess the power to regenerate lost body parts.

“Ray, Ray?”

The mercenary’s voice, raw and hoarse, repeatedly called his brother’s name. He gently tapped his cheek, then shook his shoulder, even resting his head against his brother’s chest. Hay, witnessing this, turned his eyes away.

He was gone.

Hay approached the grieving man, silently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment, then retreated.

Hooch, with a resolute expression, began distributing the healing water to the other injured individuals. Hay observed their wounds mending before turning to Hooch.

“Those with serious injuries will require another dose of healing water tomorrow. Otherwise, incomplete healing could lead to infection.”

“Ah, yes. Understood.”

“I need to rest now. I feel quite nauseous after hitting my head.”

“Of course. You’ve certainly earned it.”

Leaving them behind, Hay sought out a less populated area, his footsteps carrying him away from the throng.

He gravitated towards a cargo wagon, where four ‘Asteria Wolf’ corpses were crudely piled. The pungent scent of their blood ensured that if another monstrous attack occurred, this location would be the last to be approached.

He settled himself beneath the wagon’s wheel, his fingers instinctively reaching for the throbbing bump on the back of his head. Even the lightest touch sent a sharp, aching pain through him.

Spreading his palm, he began to draw forth his spirit energy.

This time, however, he wasn’t transforming existing water into healing water; instead, he manifested water directly onto his palm. A transparent sphere of water, akin to a crystal orb, shimmered and sparkled with the light blooming from his hand.

Hay brought it to his lips and drank deeply. The healing water, as it flowed down his throat, felt cleaner and cooler than any other water he had ever tasted.

The pure water of life.

This, known as , was a manifestation of the Water Spirit King’s authority, a power beyond the grasp of ordinary individuals.

This very ability was what elevated Hay to an A-rank mercenary, despite his combat prowess as a low-tier spirit user being merely B-rank.

His high value stemmed not primarily from his combat skills as a mercenary, but rather from the significant advantage he offered as a potential healer in times of crisis, thus commanding a higher price.

The bump on his head subsided completely. When he touched it now, there was no pain.

Minor scrapes vanished without a trace, and his muscle aches dissipated entirely. Hay’s healing water not only mended wounds but also partially restored his stamina, leaving his body feeling refreshed and at ease.

Hay found himself recalling the words of the cursed old man who had taught him spirit magic.

‘ is akin to a panacea, capable of healing any illness or injury, so long as a flicker of life remains. Yet, it is peculiar. Merely contracting with a water spirit does not grant one the ability to draw forth the King’s Spring Water.’

Even the old man himself had been baffled as to how Hay, a newly initiated spirit user, could wield such a potent authority.

As the powers of kings were typically reserved for the highest-tier spirit users, the old man had been utterly flabbergasted, deeming it an outrageous cheat that Hay, a mere low-tier spirit user, had come to possess such a formidable ability.

‘Did that Elkinon fellow take a liking to you? What an unusual development for such an arrogant being!’ he would ramble, as if he were intimately acquainted with the Spirit King.

Of course, the efficacy of the spring water Hay could summon was, numerically speaking, a mere five percent, a level commensurate with his current rank.

Trivial injuries, such as the bump currently on Hay’s head, would vanish as if they had never been. However, the larger and more severe the wound, the more arduous the healing process became, a direct consequence of his low-tier status.

While a King-tier spirit user might possess such power, even a top-tier spirit user would have been utterly incapable of repairing Ray’s ravaged waist.

‘Thirteen individuals… that makes it 3 gold and 90 silver for today.’

Hay observed the mercenaries still eagerly gulping down the healing water, a casual thought crossing his mind.

His healing water was not dispensed freely.

He had been hired solely as a mercenary, and his primary duty, as per the contract, was to escort the caravan.

Offering healing water was merely a supplementary means of income.

A low-grade healing potion, crafted by mages, commanded a price of 100 silver. One hundred silver pieces equated to one gold coin, a sum roughly equivalent to a million Korean won.

Hay, on the other hand, charged a mere thirty silver coins per person per dose. This made his healing water significantly more affordable than even the lowest-grade potions offered by mages, making it an undeniable bargain.

Had the casualties of this attack survived to become merely wounded, Hay’s earnings for the day would have been considerably more substantial.

Hay’s thoughts drifted inward, recalling the individuals ‘Han Tae-hyun’ had lost in his past.

Among them, the final image of one particular person, whom he had so desperately wished to save but could not, shimmered vividly before his mind’s eye.

‘If only my twenty-three-year-old self had possessed this power…’

Suddenly, his thoughts turned to Renki.

He needed to give Renki a dose of healing water today as well.

The moment Hay rose, a scream erupted from the mercenaries who were moving the remaining two monster corpses.

“Aargh!”

“W-what was that?!”

People jumped in surprise, startled in their places.

It seemed one of the monsters still clung to life. It wasn’t a fully grown adult, its physique slightly smaller than the other ‘Asteria Wolves’.

“Grrrrrr!”

It pinned a mercenary beneath it, snarling viciously as it wrinkled its snout and barked loudly.

“Gah! Argh! S-save me!”

The mercenary writhed, struggling to escape the wolf’s grasp.

The other mercenaries, who had stumbled backward in shock, hastily drew their swords, but they were a step too late. The wolf’s claws tore into the mercenary’s chest.

Blood gushed forth, and the screams grew more desperate. Just as the wolf lunged to bite the mercenary’s neck, Hay extended his hand towards them.

With a swift upward sweep of his hand, two spears of erupted from the ground on either side of the fallen mercenary, piercing the monster’s skull and heart.

This was a spell utilizing the power of Thea, the Earth Spirit.

The wolf deflated with a hiss, going limp. Hay felt a slight depletion of mana within his body.

The mercenary, who had nearly died, seemed to have wet himself, as the ground beneath his buttocks became visibly damp. It was hardly surprising, given he’d almost had his throat ripped out.

“What are you doing? Someone’s hurt. Take him and give him healing water.”

Hay addressed the mercenaries, who stood awkwardly with their swords drawn.

The mercenaries frantically rushed over, pulled their comrade from beneath the monster, and hurried him towards where the healing water was kept.

‘That makes it 4 gold and 20 silver.’

As Hay dispelled his spirit magic, the spears that had impaled and supported the monster’s body shattered and dispersed. His gaze shifted, meeting Renki’s eyes, who had been watching him.

He opened his mouth to call out to him when an older porter smacked Renki on the head.

“Hey! Are you going to hurry up or not? Is this a show? How long are you going to take digging one pit?”

“Ah, s-sorry.”

Unable to endure the older porter’s scolding, Renki resumed shoveling. He winced, his lips twisting, as he clenched and unclenched his fist, shaking his hand in the air, seemingly injured.

‘Now isn’t the time.’

Hay decided to give Renki the healing water once his work was finished. He didn’t want to needlessly intervene and cause trouble.

Having nothing else to do, Hay silently watched them work.

“Dig faster! Are you planning to stay up all night?!”

However, the older porter who had been scolding Renki returned and, to Hay’s surprise, kicked Renki’s backside.