The Order of Healing — Raising the Bar

The Order of Healing — Raising the Bar

Deep beneath the Healer’s Guild, on a morning like any other, Luciel faced his opponent: Lionel. The gap in their abilities, however, was less a gap and more a bottomless pit, so Lionel wielded his sword and shield in opposite hands, as a handicap, while the healer bolstered himself with defensive magic (for all the good it did, which was, in fact, very little).

Metal crashed against metal for some time. Luciel wheezed, shoulders heaving with every gasp for air, but the man opposite him had composure to spare. Enough to taunt with a smug grin, even. Neither of the combatants were shocked by this turn of events, though.

Luciel’s swings primarily struck only air, but when they did make contact, it was with metal, swiftly parried, then countered with a quick shield bash while his defenses were thoroughly shaken. Meanwhile, Lionel subtly sapped the young man of both his focus and strength with an intense, ferocious aura. Cuts and bruises could be easily mended, but not the mind, not the ever growing frustration of powerlessness.

Even the stalwart Luciel was nearing his limit, his movements slowed, his blade dulled. He simply couldn’t find an opening.

And it was in that moment, right at the brink of hopelessness, that Lionel deigned to ask, “Shall we call it here?”

The provocation was thinly veiled, but it was no mere provocation. It was a challenge meant to stir Luciel’s spirit, and the healer knew it.

“I’m just getting warmed up. Time to get serious.”

“Yes, please do.”

“You’re about to regret underestimating me!”

Luciel cried out and mustered his strength, more than he had faced the red dragon with, and brought down the magically charged Illusion Sword with all his might and then some. It was enough raw power to rend his target’s shield in two. And yet...

“Did the Whirlwind not teach you to never open with your best?”

The aforementioned shield flew at Luciel too quickly for him to react, and the two collided. When he regained his senses, a sword was at his neck, Lionel grinning above the hilt.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d throw the dang thing at me.”

Lionel chuckled. “Always expect the unexpected. Anything is possible in the heat of battle. Although, I suppose that takes an element of experience.”

“I’d like to think I have a bit of that, considering how much I trained with my master and all the monsters I’ve fought.”

“True, you know how to stand fast in the face of danger, but your technique, your stance, it’s all wrong. You have strange habits and quirks that I would never expect from the Whirlwind’s personal apprentice.”

Luciel sank. He had been told the same thing by Brod before leaving for Yenice. But that sloppy, self-immolating way of fighting that relied so heavily on his healing had been born out of necessity during his time in the Church’s labyrinth. In particular, against the so-called lich knight, which was so overwhelmingly fearsome that this technique had been the only way Luciel could have hoped to snatch victory from the jaws of death. It was from encounters like those that the healer’s fighting style had become so distorted, so hyper-focused on avoiding death, regardless of the short-term injuries he might incur along the way.

The unfortunate reality, though, was that such a tactic was only effective against mindless husks or opponents of a similar skill level. To people like Brod or Lionel, he was just a fool throwing himself into danger without a care for self-preservation. But Lionel was unaware of all of this, confused as to why the Whirlwind would teach him to fight in such a way.

“There are some opponents, such as the dragon you confronted, who your current strategy may be your only option against, but eventually you’ll slip and it will mean the end for you. You can’t carelessly take blows simply because you can use healing magic.”

“Sure, but all of the blows I took this time were counters. You kept deflecting and hitting me when my guard was down, so I don’t see how I was supposed to do anything about it.”

“Hm. Well, you know the number of opponents, for one thing. You had that vital knowledge and, considering you’re a healer, you should have retreated the moment you saw danger.”

“Retreat? From training?”

“Correct. Eventually, you’ll need to develop an instinct for which attacks to dodge, which to parry, and so forth.”

“I guess I see what you’re trying to say.”

“To the point: there is no better teacher than experience.”

“Got it. We ready for another round?”

“No. This is where your battle with me ends.”

“With you?”

“I want to see you against the knights and the other slaves. Without healing. Your subordinates will take that role.”

Luciel felt his face turn to stone. Without being able to precisely time spells based on the situation, the risk of injury would be very real, and if he declined Lionel’s terms, he would seem untrusting towards his fellow healers.

But these worries were, in fact, secondary to another. The healer’s true concern was whether or not he could bring himself to swing his blade without restraint. He had no experience in holding back before, because he’d never had to. Lionel and Brod were too strong to necessitate it, and he trusted them. But what if his adversary weren’t so monstrous in strength? Luciel was afraid of what he might do, and Lionel could see it in his expression.

“It’s time to dispel your misconceptions,” he said. “You will fight.”

“Misconceptions?”

“Ever since you became a ‘dragonslayer,’ you seem to have come under the impression that you’ve somehow become strong.”

“You think so?”

His bouts with Lionel had kept Luciel relatively humble, but he certainly didn’t consider himself entirely incapable. So began the impromptu tournament. Its rules were simple: no healing—so as to allow a proper assessment of skill—and no use of the Illusion Sword—so as to prevent cutting every one of Dhoran’s blades in two.

The results were a resounding defeat on Luciel’s part. His misconceptions had been utterly dispelled. Perhaps too violently, though. In an attempt to recover his spirits, another tournament was held, this time allowing the use of magic. Under these conditions, Luciel emerged victorious in over half of the bouts. At least somewhat satisfied with this outcome, the young healer readied himself for Lionel’s new training regimen.

As for the rest, Luciel had inspired them. Many others found renewed motivation to throw themselves headlong into their training, while the healers improved in their magic through Luciel’s new confidence in allowing them to heal the fighters’ injuries.