“Please give space,” he said. “Mix the salt in the water, hurry up.” Ewan stood at a distance and pressed on the wounds with his Ryvia, trying to minimize the bear’s bleeding.
The Astylind’s master helped Kidd and the other man and flipped the sack of salt into the water buckets. Once they mixed it well, Ewan asked the man to carry it over the bear and pour it, bit by bit.
“Will it help?” Kidd asked in a hushed voice.
“Stay near her, and keep going until I tell you to stop,” Ewan said and came closer to the bear when her master trickled the salt water over her, drenching the bed and creating a pool on the ground.
The Water Bear uttered a comfortable and sleepy moan, her legs drooped by its side, and her breaths also softened. Her chest assumed a gentle rhythm of rise and fall, and the rush of her blood eased. The ocean had been the home for her species for ages, their genes carried that sense of belonging and the solace that came with it. Even if the salt water couldn’t replicate the ocean water to a T, any association to the comfort of her roots would help pacify her. Not to mention, her master was here with her. Regardless of her status in the man’s heart, a tool or kin, the purity of an Astylind would always consider the master her family.
Ewan took advantage of the moment and pulled all the sharp shards from her wound at once, double checking to confirm he didn’t miss any. Blood gushed out, and the bear flinched, but the salt water kept her contained in the hazy world of her peaceful dreams. Other than a painful groan, the bear didn’t make any move.
“Oh, it works,” Kidd whispered aloud with a round mouth and widened eyes. The other man also looked over with lifted brows.
Sindra—Heal!
Ewan blocked the blood with his hands, his Ryvia covering the wounds he couldn’t reach, and he cast
….
….
….
It took several casts before the last thread of the stubborn Earth-Anima let go and dissipate. The wound finally stopped oozing blood and showed signs of healing. It must’ve been a peak Step-0 Asheva or an Astylind who cast that spell for it to resist his efforts so much. But in the end, the attached Anima was a rootless weed, and his spell was alive—the conclusion was inevitable.
Ewan let go and breathed a heavy sigh of relief before informing the Astylind’s master of the good news.
“Just let her rest, she should be fine soon. Don’t let her fight in the next few days or she might collapse from overexertion,” Ewan said, washing his bloody hands in the washbasin Kidd prepared for him.
“Thank you!” The man bowed parallel to the ground, his eyes tearing up. “I’ll forever remember this favor,” he said.
“It’s fine. I didn’t do much,” Ewan said, smiling. The man made a mountain out of a molehill, he felt. He didn’t do anything special, just some small treatment and some casts of
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“You can take her now,” Ewan said and sent the man and his Astylind away.
“Awesome, Boss! We got our first customer,” Kidd said, jumping up and down.
Ewan shooed him off and walked back to his chair, lounging and resting with a groan. The casts of Sindra tolled his soul and almost emptied his blood rune, his head throbbed a bit.
Sindra was a strong innate skill and a trademark of Severynths, but its efficiency fell below normal casting. For the same output, he inputted twice the Anima. It also burdened his spirit with two tasks, Sindra and the cast, in contrast to a simple spell. If not for its two stark advantages—skipping the circuit tracing and copying his Astylinds’ spells—Ewan would’ve shelved it.
……
“Don’t bring any other patient. Let me rest for a while,” Ewan said and took out his Spellbook. The lack of anesthesia or a sedative forced him to try other means, unconventional means. But he couldn’t find a second method to calm the Astylind down every time like with the Water Bear. Thus, he thought about scouring his Spellbook for an answer—he was looking for a sleep-type spell.
“Aye, aye, sir!” Kidd saluted and darted out the tent again, his figure fading in the distance.
“Did he understand what I said,” Ewan muttered then focused on the book again.
As he flipped the pages, he came across
The Spellbook had no index, like his journal, and the spells weren’t sorted out. So, he went page by page, checking each spell, before he stumbled over one that could help him.
Regardless, he had the spell he needed now. Ewan shook the useless thoughts out and concentrated on its circuit after thanking his predecessors—once again, his family’s legacy showed up to support him when he needed it the most.
The tent canvas did a good job of keeping the blaring noise outside; it was quiet enough inside for him to study the spell in peace. Before his next patient, he needed to practice the spell circuit to the point where he could cast it without too many failures. If he fumbled about tracing the circuit in front of a worried or an injured Asheva, his name would go down the drain. He was here not for the Novas but to enter the inner circle of the city rulers. For his mystic rune, this was a necessary step.
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