"ARGH!"

'Shoot!'

The hunter's sudden thrashing almost broke my concentration. The delicate balance between Mender's Paradox and Exorcist's Gaze wavered violently. I felt the purging energy spike, threatening to scald the man's injury instead of cleansing it.

"Stay still!" I gritted my teeth, pressing my hand down harder to physically restrain him while mentally wrestling with the unstable energies. {Seren!}

{On it, friend!}

A soft, chime-like sound echoed in my mind, unheard by anyone else. A gentle wave of calming illusion washed over the hunter. His panicked struggles ceased almost instantly, his eyes glazing over with a peaceful, drowsy expression after a few moments.

{Done!}

The crisis was averted.

{...Thanks.}

Sweat dripped from my brow as I refocused, carefully guiding the last remnants of the corrupting energy out of the wound. A final wisp of black smoke dissipated, and the gray veins faded completely.

"Hah..."

I let out a long, shaky breath.

A hand holding a ladle of clean water appeared in my periphery. Without looking, I directed a thread of my aura to guide the liquid to gently wash over the now-clean wound, clearing away the residual black fluid.

"Done," I muttered, my voice hoarse.

"...Here, drink this." I accepted the ladle properly and took a deep drink, the cool water a relief.

"You're not an ordinary healer, are you?" Old Man Heron's voice was low, not accusatory, but filled with a certainty that brooked no denial.

I glanced up at him, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. A faint, tired chuckle escaped me. "Well, I picked up a few unusual things during my travels."

'The same could be said for you,' I thought inwardly as I looked at him, or more like at the status window floating beside his head.

━━━━━━━━◇◆◇━━━━━━━━

Name: Heron

Age: 74

Race: Human

Path: The Penitent's Road (Sealed)

General Health Status: Poor (Severely Weakened, Lingering Internal Injuries, Self-Imposed Resonance Seal)

Resonance Tier: Tier 6 (Suppressed to Early Tier 1)

━━━━━━━━◇◆◇━━━━━━━━

'Hmm, suspicious indeed.'

"Clean work." Heron gave a short, approving nod. "Can you heal the others too?"

I chuckled inwardly. 'He's really straightforward, huh.'

"I can give it a try," I said aloud. "But I'll need a moment to recover my aura and mental strength first. That technique is... a bit draining."

"I see," he grunted. "Then make yourself at home. Just don't disturb me unless it's necessary." With that, he turned and shuffled back to his other patients, his demeanor already shifting back to the gruff medic.

The moment he was occupied, I focused on him, activating [Character Insight].

━━━━━━━━◇━━━━━━━━

Alias: Heron

True Name: Hero

Titles: Faded Sentinel / The Penitent Healer

Affiliation:

- Former Captain of the Royal Guard

- Supporting Character of "A Crown Of Ashes"

- Self-Exiled Warden of Oakhaven

Rank: Tier 6 Resonator (Suppressed to Tier 1)

Speciality: Advanced Healing Arts / Neurotoxins & Antidotes / Battlefield Triage / etc...

Resonance Gift: [Vitalis Manipulation] - Can perceive and manipulate the flow of life force in living beings.

Current Objective: "Atone for past failures by guarding this forgotten town. Await a sign of redemption."

Threat Level: ★⯪☆☆☆ (★★★★⯪)

Note: "A healer who knows a hundred ways to save a life, and a hundred more to end one. His oath of penance is the only chain holding back the storm."

━━━━━━━━◇━━━━━━━━

'...Well, this is surprising.'

Although I expected him to be a side character of sorts after seeing his sealed strength, I didn't expect him to be this important.

I sat there, the ladle still in my hand, my fatigue momentarily forgotten. A former Captain of the Royal Guard? A Tier 6 Resonator deliberately suppressing himself to Tier 1? The specialities alone, neurotoxins, battlefield triage, etc, painted a picture of someone who was far more than a simple healer. He was a weapon who had chosen to become a bandage.

And the Threat Level... the potential four-and-a-half stars hidden behind a current one-and-a-half... that was a clear warning. The 'storm' mentioned in the note wasn't just a metaphor.

To think this forgotten town at the edge of the blight was the self-imposed prison of a living legend. Just what kind of failure could drive a man like that to bury himself here? And what would it take for him to unleash that sealed power again? How are they connected to the princess or Vance? How-!

"EEEK!"

My thoughts were interrupted by the infirmary door creaking open.

"Heron!"

"Old Man!"

A group of three townsfolk burst in, their faces etched with panic and grief. A burly man was half-carrying, half-dragging a fourth, whose leg was a mess of blood and torn fabric.

"Heron! Please! You have to save Hans!" the woman in the group cried out, her voice shrill with desperation.

The peaceful atmosphere of the infirmary was shattered. Patients stirred uneasily at the sudden noise.

Before the commotion could grow, Old Man Heron moved with a speed that belied his age and stooped posture. In two quick strides, he was in front of the panicked man.

Thwack!

He brought the flat of a heavy-looking wooden spoon down on the man's head with a sharp crack.

"Quiet!" Heron barked. "This is a place of healing, not a barn! You'll disturb my patients."

The man yelped, more out of surprise than pain, and the entire group fell into a stunned silence.

I took a deep breath, pushing myself to my feet. The momentary rest would have to wait.

"Let me help you," I said, my voice cutting through the tension.

I moved past the chastised group and knelt beside the injured man, Hans. The wound was bad—a deep, ragged gash that looked like it came from an animal's claw, and it was bleeding heavily. But more importantly, I could feel it. The same faint, chilling energy I'd just purged from the hunters. This was a fresh corrupted wound.

"Monster... from the western ridge..." Hans gasped, his face pale. "Big... fast..."

"Save your strength," I said, already assessing the damage. This was going to be another difficult procedure. I glanced at Heron. "I'll need clean cloths, hot water, and your strongest antiseptic. Now."

For a moment, our eyes met. The grumpy old medic was gone, replaced by the sharp-eyed former captain. He gave a single, curt nod.

"You heard him. Move!" he snapped at the stunned group, who scrambled to obey.

It seems like the town was in more serious trouble than I anticipated. Then...

...Should I not have intervened in the scenario?

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