Wovan's teleport was far more stable than anything Arthur had experienced before, though with the current condition of his body, he was still left reeling and dizzy from the sensation. Sprawling to his side, Arthur hacked up a piece of flesh he didn't try to identify and vomited the contents of his stomach onto the ground. Arthur rolled onto his back and stared at the fiery Haadran sky.

  His body was a mess, more damaged than it had ever been before; his skin cracked and shattered like glass, his right arm missing from the elbow down, his left eye a useless orb in his skull and a multitude of other less serious injuries that nonetheless had him dizzy with pain. There was no rest for the wicked, however, and as bad as he was, Maverick had fared far worse. Groaning, Arthur managed to force himself back to his hand and knees before proceeding to crawl over to the giant human.

  Arthur could only see seven of Wovan's eleven bodies around him, which meant she'd either left a part of herself behind for some reason or they'd fallen in battle. Placing a hand on Maverick's shoulder, Arthur used a pulse of ether to diagnose him. The results didn't look good. Where only Arthur's skin had suffered from Samuel's last attack, it had penetrated deep into Maverick, in some places, directly to the bone, changing him on an atomic level. Arthur had no idea how to go about healing the damage, or if it was even possible, but he knew he had to try.

  "Step away from Sir Maverick," a voice, distinctly male, suddenly called out behind him. "We have eight mages locked onto you. Resisting is futile."

  Arthur sighed. It seemed Maverick's teleport had brought them close to his base of operations. Learning that more humans had resisted corruption was heartening, though the timing could have been better.

  "I am not your enemy," Arthur said, his voice weak and gravelly. "Maverick needs healing right now." He put his hands in the air and tried to make himself look as harmless as possible. Arthur wasn't sure if the bloodied state of his body helped or hindered him.

  "I can see that much," the same voice replied dryly. "A healer is on their way. You understand that I can't just take your words at face value, right?"

  "I probably wouldn't believe me either, in your shoes, but I'm a healer and I don't think Maverick will survive the next thirty seconds, never mind until your healer arrives. The ball's in your court. Let me work, and I'll keep him alive long enough for your guy to look at him. Or stop me and let him die. I'm in no position to fight you as I am."

  Arthur wasn't even exaggerating. Maverick was on death's door. Arthur had also identified where the voice was coming from, about a hundred feet up the side of the nearest mountain and hidden behind a pile of rocks. He was also surrounded by an additional fourteen mages, not the eight he'd been threatened with. Going by the little he could sense from their shielded auras, those were not odds he was comfortable with.

  True to someone who'd survived for so long in a fallen world, the man's answer came swiftly and without hesitation. "Stabilise him. Keep his heart and brain safe for 218 seconds. Check his inner wrists for his runic tattoos. If they're not glowing already, direct some energy into them. They should help with his healing."

  The orders came rapidly, one after the other, and left no room for confusion. With the green light given, Arthur placed his hand on Maverick's chest and pumped a steady stream of healing ether into him. Arthur's ether pool had bottomed out seconds into his battle with Esmerald, and he was at less than a third of his health. Suffice it to say, he was in no position to be healing others right now. He continued anyway. Arthur wasn't actively directing his healing skill as he would usually when facing such a complex problem. Instead, he let the skill do the work.

  It would cost far more energy and take longer to heal, but there was a lower possibility of him screwing things up. Maverick's body drank up the energy like a desert did water, and Arthur winced when he realised just how expensive these next three minutes would be. Maybe he could fight Maverick's friends now if push came to shove, but there was no way that was happening after the healing was done.

  As fast as he was using ether, however, it simply wasn't enough. Maverick was dying. Arthur decided to follow the instructions he'd been given to the dot and protect the brain and heart only. If the healer coming wasn't well-versed in mirror magic injuries, then Maverick was toast. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with blood and getting into his eyes. Arthur ignored the discomfort, directing his healing ether to Maverick's heart and brain.

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  He was operating on instinct right now, pushing his skills in ways he'd never tried before. Behind him, he could hear his hidden observer descending, along with eight of the fourteen magicians he'd claimed were targeting him. Arthur didn't blame the man for being paranoid. Grunting in a decidedly unmanly fashion, Arthur forced his ether to form into a spherical orb around his targets, ignoring the rest of Maverick's body. His energy expenditure, surprisingly, shot up by 40%.

  That was how Arthur knew he was doing something right, and he spent the next few seconds analysing his magic's effects on the two organs and the rest of Maverick's body. The answers came quickly, and Arthur marvelled at just how incredible magical healing was. Yes, he'd healed severed limbs and brought people back from the brink before, but using his healing affinity in novel ways would never not be interesting.

  Arthur's orbs of gold had isolated Maverick's brain and heart from the rest of his body, substituting the biological functions that would keep them healthy with his ether. The rest of his body was dying, but so long as Arthur fed him a steady supply of energy, there was no risk of Maverick suffering permanent harm. He was basically taking on the role of a magical life support machine. The man he'd been talking to approached to stand beside him, and Arthur finally got a good look at the man.

  Well, he's more a boy than a man, really. He doesn't look a day over sixteen.

  "The name's David," he said, "Samuel really did a number on him this time. It's the worst I've ever seen him."

  "Arthur Ward. I managed to kill his pet Wyvern. That probably had something to do with it."

  David's eyes widened in shock before he quickly schooled himself. "Once again, you understand that I can't just take your words at face value. Esmerald was a monster even Maverick was wary of facing alone. You're barely a third his strength."

  "Yet I remain conscious and able through an attack that is quite literally killing him," Arthur sniped back. He was all for being polite, but David's constant paranoia in the face of Arthur's very obvious help was grating.

  "Sorry," David replied. The boy at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "You're injured terribly yourself and have been met with only hostility despite helping us. My emotions are running a little ragged right now, which is a poor excuse, I admit. If Maverick dies, that's the end for humanity on this planet."

  "It's a good thing he won't die then, boy, and stop being so melodramatic," a wizened voice suddenly interrupted.

  Arthur started in place, but managed to keep focusing on his magic. David fared far worse, jumping in place and swearing loudly. It was the first thing he'd done that matched his age.

  "How many times have I told you to stop doing that, Auntie Vira?" David complained.

  The old woman who'd seemingly materialised out of nowhere chuckled. "I'll stop doing it when you stop jumping like a spring-loaded rabbit."

  The woman looked like she'd crossed the hundred-year mark, with sun-browned skin like ancient parchment. She approached and inspected Maverick's prone form, mumbling a scathing remark about his wounds. It took a moment for Arthur to realise she was the healer they were waiting for, and going by her level 293 tag, she was quite the potent one. She'd also arrived two minutes early, for which Arthur was infinitely grateful.

  "Child, you have the purest healing energy I have ever seen. Whoever taught you, however, seemed to have skipped the basics. The techniques you display are incredibly advanced, but your execution leaves much to be desired. You're wasting about 30% of the energy you're using."

  Arthur grimaced. What Vira was describing was the results of gaining a legendary healing skill without receiving any formal training in the art whatsoever.

  "I'm self-taught, actually," Arthur defended himself, which was technically the truth in the same way apples were poisonous. "I'd love to learn from you later, but only after I've slept for a week."

  Arthur's half-truth got the desired shocked reaction from the old healer, and he felt incredibly smug right until he realised how childish he was being.

  "Well, you've certainly got the qualifications to become my student," Vira said with a raised brow. "Now, let go of Maverick and let me take over."

  Arthur sighed in relief and let go of his magic. It seemed it was the only thing that had been keeping him up because he immediately fell to the side. Thankfully, Maverick was still in his field of vision, so he didn't miss any of Vira's healing.

  The seemingly normal old lady was now a glowing beacon of green light, the ether surrounding her more potent than anything Arthur had felt before, dwarfing even his latest encounter with Samuel. This was what a pure healer taken to the extreme looked like: a woman who'd reached the pinnacle of her craft.

  Even as Arthur watched, Maverick's wounds rapidly healed, like time was being turned back on his body. It was healing magic akin to time manipulation, and Arthur watched in childlike wonder. The magical display was beautiful, but Arthur internally grumbled when he realised Vira was somehow shielding her skill use from his prying eyes. In retrospect, it made sense that she didn't want people learning from displays of magic that had probably taken her centuries to refine.

  Healing Maverick took an astonishingly short two minutes, time in which the remaining hidden observers watching left their hiding spots to circle them. Maverick coughed once, then twice, before opening his eyes. Vira turned to face him, all traces of her kindly persona gone. Her eyes were like shards of ice, the wrinkles in her skin the history of her struggles. This was the true leader of humanity's last bastion, Arthur realised, not Maverick. And here he was, more vulnerable than he'd ever been, delivered right into the lion's den.

  "Now, child," Vira began. "Would you kindly explain what in the nine hells happened?"

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