Icariel woke up.
Morning light leaked through the wooden window slats like liquid gold bleeding across stone. He had slept deeply—maybe better than he ever had. There was no sting in his limbs, no tightness in his chest. He sat up and looked at himself.
No wounds. No scratches. No pain.
"…Did he heal me?" he muttered, voice dry.
Just then, Elif's voice cut through the door as it creaked open.
"Well, look who finally woke up. Come on—breakfast is ready."
He stood, muscles stiff but functional, and stepped into the main room. His clothes were torn, dried blood clinging like old guilt.
"Good morning," Elena greeted gently from the kitchen.
"Morning," he replied with a small nod.
Aelar was already seated at the half-moon-shaped table, carved from ancient bark and humming faintly with life. "Come eat."
"…Thank you," Icariel said, and sat down.
The table was spread with unfamiliar offerings—green leaves glistening with honey, steaming herbs that gave off a calming scent. The air smelled clean, yet grounded—earthy, like moss over firewood.
"Eat well," Elena said softly, placing a cup of pale-blue liquid by his side.
As they began eating, Aelar's voice broke the quiet.
"How was last night? Did you catch anything?"
Icariel was silent at first. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then wiped his mouth. His gaze held steady on the far wall.
"I think I understand now," he said finally. "How to achieve it."
"Oh?" Aelar raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
"Yes," Icariel said, resolute.
Elif leaned forward, brows lifting. "Wait… what are you teaching him, Dad?"
"My specialty," Aelar replied, a calm grin curling at the corners of his mouth.
Elena froze mid-motion. Elif blinked, stunned.
"Vital Surge."
The name hung in the air like a falling blade—quiet, sharp, final.
The forbidden technique. The one only a handful of elven warpriests had ever mastered. The one that let them heal while moving—while bleeding—while killing.
Icariel looked down at the table. "So this technique… it's a big deal for the elves."
"Did you finish eating?" Aelar asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Training resumes now. I'll push you harder than ever before my next mission—so brace yourself."
"I will," Icariel said, rising.
As he turned to leave, Elena called out, "Icariel! I got you a pair of clothes again—this time actually your size."
He gave a faint smile. "Thanks… but I'll stick with these till training's over. If I wear the new ones now, your husband's just going to wreck them again anyway."
Elena laughed, amused. "Fair point. I'll leave them in your room. Aelar—try not to break him."
Aelar smirked, pushing the door open with his knuckles. "That's the point—he can handle it."
The two stepped out into the glaring morning light, where the trees grew thick and the shadows deeper.
"...He's really trying to teach him Vital Surge?" Elif murmured.
Elena, clearing the table, glanced at her daughter. "Why do you think he's doing that, my dear?"
"I don't know. Really—I don't," Elif said, shaking her head.
Elena set the cup down gently. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Because he sees something in that boy. And knowing your father… if he's willing to teach a human something that's nearly impossible even for elves—then he truly believes it's possible."
She paused. A swallow. Her eyes narrowed. "But what unsettled me just now… was that Icariel said—after only one day of trying—that he already has an idea of how to pull it off. And the worst part is, I didn't detect a lie."
Elif turned to the door. Silence settled.
—
Outside, beneath the titanic trees where even sunlight had to claw its way through the leaves, Aelar picked up a familiar wooden branch with his right hand.
"So," he said, casual, "you said you understand how to achieve it, huh?"
He grinned. "That confidence… prove it. Or, you know—accept the pain."
"Come," Aelar said, pointing the wooden branch toward Icariel.
"Damn it," Icariel muttered, lifting both hands—palms open, breath steady.
"Wind Slash," he whispered.
Two horizontal slashes burst from his palms—clear, visible blades of compressed air that tore toward Aelar with vicious force. Leaves whipped into the air. Birds scattered.
Aelar's eyes widened for a flicker of a second. "Casting two at once now?"
He smirked.
"What else can you do? Show me."
He swung the branch. One clean arc. It cleaved both slashes midair—the wind cracked through the trees behind him.
"Now what?" he asked, unconcerned.
Icariel was already moving, legs darting between roots and rocks, heart hammering.
"There's no way I can beat him. Not even close. But I can't afford to get too injured either… Healing or not, it still hurts—and it's annoying as hell."
He swerved behind a tree, breath hitching.
"Distractions. Tricks. Keep him just off balance—just enough to avoid the worst of it."
Then—the memory. A flash of the night before. Aelar, after the sparring, casting a healing spell mid-motion. No words. No gestures. Just a breath and a pulse of green light flowing from inside his arm to the wound, and then vanishing.
A perfect loop.
Back to the moment.
Fssht!
Aelar blurred. He reappeared behind Icariel and slashed the boy's neck with the branch—just enough to sting.
"What was that?" Aelar scoffed. "You think spells like that will be enough?"
"Tch…" Icariel grit his teeth, stepping back, blood already dripping. "Monster… Even with White Sense screaming at me where he is—I still can't dodge in time."
Aelar strode forward. Calm. Steady. Cold.
"I told you, didn't I? This has to mimic a real battle. Heal while fighting. Heal while bleeding."
He tilted his head, watching him. "Though, I'll admit—your spells are lethal. You'd kill someone if they landed."
He grinned. "Guess I'll have to beat that out of you."
Fap!
He blurred again.
The branch slashed across Icariel's arms, shoulders, jaw, and chest—wood biting like steel. Blood painted his skin anew. The torn clothes flared open.
"Ah—!"
"Let's do it. Let's do it now."
"No mana core. No set circles. My mana's already circulating everywhere…"
Another slash tore across his ribs.
"If I don't have to channel anything—if I just pour it straight into the intent… like I did with regular healing…"
The wind wheezed past his ears.
"If I focus all of it into one thought—Heal… even if it drains me to the bone, I'll bounce back. White Sense regenerates my mana just by breathing."
"I said—let's do it!" Icariel screamed.
He threw himself forward into the storm. Aelar's eyes flickered in surprise.
Green light erupted from Icariel's body. His wounds began to close—threads of mana weaving flesh back together.
"Heal… Heal!"
But then—Puff.
The light vanished. Gone.
And in that moment—
BAM! The branch slammed across his face. He crashed into the grass, coughing dirt.
Aelar stepped over him, branch resting across one shoulder like a blade returned to its sheath.
"What were you trying to do just now?"
Icariel sat up, hair a mess, blood still drying. His jaw throbbed.
"Tch tch… I thought I had it," he muttered. "Why the hell didn't it work…"
Aelar's expression sharpened. He studied the boy's posture, his tone, his words.
"Don't tell me…"
The warleader's eyes narrowed.
"He nearly pulled it off—in two days? Who is this mountain brat, really?"
He replayed the green light in his mind.
"That was his mana—not mine—responding directly to his will. It faltered… but only just."
"Most elves train fifty years and never reach this. Humans only master it with freak talent… or rare gifts. And then there are the ones with an Infinity Body…"
"But this kid?"
"No mentor. No heritage. He claimed to be self-taught. Watching. Mimicking. Almost replicating…"
Aelar's stare turned lethal.
"I saw it with my eyes. He was this close. He made just one mistake. I have to tell him—before he tries again and shatters something."
"I was trying to use the healing spell while moving," Icariel said suddenly, voice ragged. "That's all."
Aelar's head tilted. "And how, exactly, did you plan to do that?"
"Well," Icariel muttered, glancing down, "since my mana already flows everywhere, I figured channeling wouldn't work. No core. No circuits. But if it's already in every part of me… maybe I don't need to channel. Just… act."
Aelar froze.
"…And where did you get that idea?"
Icariel looked up.
"From you. Last night. I saw how you cast the healing spell. I watched the mana move inside you."
He paused. Realization hit like a drop of ice.
"…Shit."
Aelar's eyes snapped into focus. His voice dropped to a whisper too sharp to be quiet.
"…What did you just say?"
"I—"
"You saw the mana inside me?"
His voice flared like a blade unsheathed.
"When? You were half-dead. Don't tell me you used Spirit Zone—you were too far gone to activate it."
Aelar stepped forward. His voice was low. Dangerous.
"So tell me, Icariel."
"How did you see?"
—
[End of Chapter 34]