Master, You've Come to Save Me!
The reason Terramit could fight without a care for his own injuries was all thanks to his faith in Suhyun.
'That devilish guy will somehow keep us alive as long as we don't die.' That conviction allowed him to charge forward aggressively, even with half his arm severed and his meridians shredded like rags.
"You've turned your body into complete rags."
His left hand, used as a shield to block swords, had half its bones already severed before getting caught in the explosion, running, striking—it was now fully shattered, hanging on by tough muscles alone. The foot that had stepped through flame mana for footwork had twisted meridians, burns, cracks throughout the bones, and then got broken in the blast. His right hand, which had triggered the explosion and sustained overall damage, had all its finger bones fractured from infusing inner power into punches, skin torn, nails all shattered.
Suhyun clicked his tongue as he looked down at Terramit, whose injuries were even more severe than those of Sisin, the loser of the match.
"Tch! Does it hurt?"
"Heh heh, wouldn't it be weird to cry after winning?"
During the fight, adrenaline surged, numbing the pain, but as the effect wore off on the way to the infirmary, Terramit writhed in agony yet grinned through it. Suhyun laughed at the sight.
"Yeah, it's gotta hurt like hell."
Suhyun rolled up his sleeves, drew up his mana, and cast a spell. Dozens of mana constructs appeared in the air.
Taboo: Biotic Reconstruction
The spell Taboo: Biotic Reconstruction was based on the idea that 'living beings are merely machines assembled from cells as parts.' It decomposed and reassembled the cells of a living body.
This magic created multiple mana constructs to handle complex calculations and tasks, granting microscope-level detection and manipulation capabilities. The computational constructs separated cells in the injured area: using dead ones as energy and materials while promoting division in living ones for reassembly.
Torn flesh was merely countless polymer substances like collagen and elastin, plus severed cytoskeletons and intercellular connections at the cellular level. The spell reconnected broken proteins, filled gaps with artificial cells made from usable organelles in dead cells, and restored intercellular links.
Severed blood vessels regrew and reconnected; fractured bones dissolved by osteoclasts and reformed by osteoblasts in seconds. Terramit watched in awe as injuries that would normally require complex surgery and months of recovery healed in an instant.
As a mage, he knew more about the human body than most, but only basics like 'fat burns well, bone doesn't,' or how burn severity varied by temperature. He stared at his arm wound as it deconstructed and reassembled.
For burns, it extracted skin stem cells from elsewhere in the body, distributed them evenly over the damaged skin, and supplied nutrients for division. For meridians, it excised severely frayed and mutated sections, then extended and reconnected them.
Suhyun, having instantly healed injuries that demanded long preparation and surgery, shoved nutrient pills into Terramit's mouth.
"For the meridians, circulate the Purification Technique to finish repairing them."
"Got it."
"And Lutisat wants to see you, so ask the staff up front and head there."
"Really?"
Terramit, who had feared Lutisat might have seen the fight and deemed him too reckless to stay on Nautilus, beamed and hurried out.
He'd entered half-dead but walked out fine. Sisin, in relatively better shape, was handled by another healer.
Belia, one of the older orphans who'd lived with Morian, was smart from the start and had managed the kids' health in the orphanage. In filthy conditions, wounds festered easily, bad food caused constant stomachaches, and cold living led to frequent colds—she'd learned medicine to help her siblings.
She'd picked up basics peeking over quack alley doctors' shoulders, and upon arriving at Nautilus and receiving education, while other kids learned cooking or crafts under artisans, she boldly requested formal medical training.
Medicine was precious knowledge; others might call it shameless. But Suhyun laughed and approved readily. Thus, Belia learned properly from him and progressed daily with abundant supplies (rehab pills).
Of course, the supplies skewed toward trauma, and her strong pain tolerance warped her sense of patient pain somewhat—but it didn't matter.
A healer's prime virtue was treating patients; their writhing was mere interference. Treating Nautilus residents, she minimized pain anyway, so her skewed tolerance rarely came into play.
Belia checked the unconscious Sisin's eyes, then covered his face with cotton soaked in hydrogen peroxide.
"Gaaah!"
"Such a wimp."
Sisin woke screaming from the sting on his burned face but thrashed futilely—he was already strapped with leather belts. Despite minor superficial burns and a slight jaw fracture from the punches, he writhed like he was the world's most suffering soul. Belia eyed him with contempt, like a salt-sprinkled slug.
"Stay still!"
She jabbed a needle coated in muscle relaxant into his shoulder, paralyzing shoulder and neck muscles, then fetched burn ointment from the cabinet.
Made from cold-region and desert herbs, it rapidly drew out heat and prevented infection. Suhyun's recipe worked fast and well—but hurt like hell. It cooled burns without dropping temperature too low, but the speed irritated hypersensitive skin, and dissolving dead cells was agonizing.
Without rehab pills, she'd use pricey anesthetics to ease it—but for them, no mercy; she slathered it on.
"Gaaaaah!"
It felt like liquid nitrogen rinse followed by hydrochloric acid melt. Sisin wailed pitifully, but Belia's eyes were ice-cold.
Orphans' greatest threats were bosses like Sisin. Having heard his crimes from Morian, who recovered his records and ledger, Belia not only skipped pain relief—she amplified it.
Professional ethics demanded treatment, but scum like him? Make it hurt more for faster, effective healing—no more sightings needed.
Belia had learned all Suhyun's non-magical medical knowledge, including how to maximize pain. Nautilus folk praised her gentle touch, but rehab gangs feared her second only to Suhyun.
"You bitch!"
As he glared murderously amid convulsions, Belia snorted and prepped a scalpel.
"Stay still—if you move and it gets uneven, not my fault?"
"Gaaah! You crazy bitch, what the hell are you doing?!"
"What? Treating you, duh?"
"Gaaah! Just leave it, it'll heal!"
"I know, but you're rehab material."
She jabbed solid paralytic needles into his neck and jaw muscles; the tips dissolved slowly in blood, paralyzing them. Her cheap homemade brew deactivated motor nerves but activated sensory ones—immobile, but more painful.
Confirming full paralysis, Belia prepped surgery.
Suhyun taught bone cement too—made via alchemy and magic from troll bone and marrow, it set bones fast for compound or shattered fractures. She'd learned it but never used it: clean breaks needed splints; bad ones, Suhyun handled. Sisin's jaw was fragmented but not shattered—loose enough to risk vessel/nerve damage from shards.
Eager to try bone cement, Belia cut in, avoiding vessels and nerves, exposed the fracture, spooned cement, mixed with potion.
"Stay still—move and it'll be crooked?"
As she pinned fragments with forceps, filled gaps with cement, Sisin endured hellish pain. Fist-shattered shards embedded in flesh; extracting them, she probed for micros with forceps, grazing nerves—worse than toothache.
But bigger jolts at twitches made him clench fists till palms tore, enduring. Scraping the break pre-assembly, he wanted to beg for death. Cement application burned like fire on bone—kill me.
"All done."
She sutured with potion-soaked thread, smiling as she noted: "Diagnosis: Patient is an extreme wimp."
Sisin fainted again, seething inwardly at her audible parting shot.
"Heh, looked like you enjoyed the show?"
After Terramit and Sisin's duel, Aurelia teased Isolra, plastered to the glass like she'd shatter it.
"Ahem, just thought it was a decent mage for once."
To inherit nobility, one needed mage or knight status—but people always found loopholes. Academy knight department hacks treated spars like theater to game titles. After actors clanging without venom, seeing real blood, spite, and fury boiled Isolra's blood.
Higher realms demanded real combat for growth, yet paradoxically, the higher you climbed, the less you fought—sharper eyes spotted mismatches pre-fight. High-rankers were valuable, loss-averse anyway. Even gladiator bouts pulled punches lately. Real combat from an unexpected source thrilled her.
"Started cheering Sisin as a fellow knight, ended as Terramit's fanboy?"
"Ahem, realm aside, such ferocious warriors deserve respect."
Aurelia roared with laughter at Isolra's blush.
"Heh, worth sponsoring?"
Capital culture sponsored promising fighters; mages especially, with catalysts and mediums boosting power.
"Hmm, yeah, why not?"
Earl's daughter Isolra munched snacks itchily, anticipating Terramit's next bout.
Meanwhile, opposite their noble seats sat elders from Ifrit's Hearth and Lutisat.
"Ahem, fair decision."
Lutisat's senior from Ifrit's Hearth—Terramit's master, who'd rushed over at the Nautilus dispatch news—watched the duel, smiling satisfied.
"Worried these kids lacked fight, but good."
"Haha, Senior, overprotecting denied chances?"
"You were too extreme—that slum mess, know the hassle?"
"Still, you burned the bastard illegitimate, didn't tangle."
As the now-elder senior recalled torching a gang den after his battlefield friend's killer (lord's bastard), Lutisat countered.
Political fallout, sure—but no shame. Their master scolded Lutisat for noise harming the tower, not the act itself.
The elder who cleaned up glared bitterly, but Lutisat stood proud.
"Hah, true enough."
Senior conceded first—couldn't defend fraternizing with bastards.
"Ahem, but those injuries—years bedridden? Waste prime growth?"
To his worry, Lutisat grinned.
"Heh, told him to come up post-treatment. See for yourself. Chat till then."
"Yeah, heard you were hurt—okay?"
"Me? Fine 'cept the arm."
"Heard—wait, it's back?"
"Heh, disciple hooked me up."
Roll up sleeve: wrist-down mimicked skin, above—metal arm. Made from flame-medium material, it held catalysts, high heat resistance.
"Heh heh, kid worked overtime for it."
Lucy's all-nighter Warm Hearth Guardian reward prosthetic wasn't better than original—but flame mage-useful.
"Damn—some disciples torment masters with antics, yours slaves away for an arm."
"Heh heh, master difference?"
"Brat, then it'd be my disciple fetching arms, yours causing trouble—forgot your stunts?"
"Ahem, raising disciples is separate skill."
Elder grumbled past Lutisat antics, who laughed gratefully; arena staff announced a visitor.
"Terramit arrived."
"Send him in."
Terramit, summoned by Lutisat, gaped at the elder inside.
"Master!"
"Yeah, you worthless punk—body okay?"
Stunned by the unexpected face, but Suhyun's "moral education" hammering ethics bowed him.
"Yes, treatment helped a lot."
"Good, you worked hard."
"Sniff!"
Warm words nearly brought tears.
"Glad you're diligent—your juniors coming soon; look after 'em."
"Huh?!"
Thinking it'd be expulsion from Nautilus, the shock hit.
"Worried at first, but seeing your growth—more experience won't hurt. Decided to send more students, seeing you."
"Th-that...!"
Thunderbolt words dizzied him. Ifrit's Hearth's first Nautilus exchange student Terramit stared blankly at his beaming master.