Healing Amid Suspicion
I was honestly taken aback.
From their stares, I could tell the profession of priest had been thoroughly branded in their minds as something utterly vile.
The image of a priest—specialized in saving lives, healing wounds, and bestowing blessings—dragged through the mud like this?
What the hell did they do?
Did they go around blindly chopping off heads, screaming blasphemy without a second thought?
Those guys... it wouldn't surprise me if they did.
I was a priest myself, but there were plenty of crazies among our ranks.
They believed anything done in a god's name was permitted, that the divine would rejoice in their faith.
In truth, the gods weren't insane enough to delight in reckless beheadings under the guise of blasphemy.
"Please, have a seat first. Your wound looks serious—if it festers and bursts, that'd be trouble."
"Y-yes, sir..."
The soldier who had been snarling aggressively moments ago turned meek as a lamb, like it had all been a hallucination.
He sat obediently and asked me cautiously.
"Are you... here with the support army, by any chance?"
"No. I was just passing by, saw you in danger, and lent a hand."
"Ah..."
The soldier looked relieved, at least somewhat.
Being punished for mistreating a priest from the support army was one thing, but he seemed genuinely afraid of priests as a whole.
Nothing's certain here.
I knew too little. All I could do was piece together scraps of info and guess.
Information gathering came first.
I'd need a ton of knowledge to make it to the academy.
I've got to meet that professor.
Nipella Aoman.
Arcana had said I'd run into him once she left...
These guys might know him.
I stared at the soldiers blankly before flashing a benevolent smile.
"If it's not too much trouble, may I heal your wounds?"
"Pardon? But..."
"Our god is merciful. Yet strict as well. If I leave you wounded men behind, my god won't forgive me."
"But..."
"No payment needed. Just let me help."
"Hmm..."
The soldier looked troubled.
I kept up the kindly facade, but inside, I was panicking.
Why won't he take it?
I figured he'd jump at free healing.
Free? As in, no strings, not some daily scam.
"...Please help us."
"Captain!"
Then the captain who'd been commanding the soldiers stepped forward.
Scars etched across both cheeks, towering a head taller than me, built like a bear.
Looks like he knows his way around a fight.
As I admired him inwardly, the soldier grabbed the captain's arm, trying to hold him back.
"Captain, no."
He whispered, thinking I couldn't hear.
"Last time... that priest said it was free, then claimed the god demanded 'fair payment' and fleeced us for a fortune..."
"But your lives are at stake right now. The money... I'll figure something out."
My hearing was sharp enough to catch every word, though.
No wonder they're hesitant.
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Might as well chop heads for blasphemy. Extort money? From these soldiers? How much could they even have?
Were there no priests left—just thugs?
Well, priests are easy marks for fleecing, to be fair.
They could revive a heart split in two, if it was mere seconds ago.
Priests worked miracles.
Ironic that those miracles came at a price tag.
Even without miracles, the fleecing's a problem...
No surprise the public's view of us hit rock bottom.
The captain approached me and pulled something from his pocket, offering it over.
"Priest, please take this. For the treatment."
A leather pouch jingling with coins.
Clink.
"Captain! That's your own savings!"
"Shut it, you punk. You're getting married soon, right? Think of it as reclaiming your wedding flag."
"Captain..."
Their bromance was touching; I shrugged.
Fine by me if I get paid.
But.
"My god doesn't crave gold."
I refused and handed it back.
I had my reasons. Soldiers like these couldn't have much anyway, and building goodwill over a few coins was smarter long-term.
People usually bond over shared favors like this.
"But—"
"My god cherishes hot-blooded camaraderie and brotherhood in arms. He loves me, sure, but he loves men like you too, Captain. If I took this, he'd punish me."
The continent teemed with gods.
God of the forest, god of light, god of the sea...
The big name right now was the god of light.
Arcti, god of light.
I'd never met her, but Arcana had shared plenty.
She doesn't persecute other faiths.
So revealing mine wouldn't brand me a heretic.
Not directly, anyway—I'd implied it poetically.
"Th-that's..."
"Bring me the worst cases first. No charge. But in return, one small favor?"
"Of course...!"
A soldier with a mangled leg—barely hanging by a thread—was laid before me.
Hmm. Can't just brute-force divine power here.
This wasn't a temple.
No instant divine power regen, so dumping it all into one guy was inefficient.
Stabilize the leg first...
I racked my brain, experimenting to heal efficiently while conserving power.
"Support army's here! Where are the goblins—?!"
"......"
"......"
The reinforcements arrived late.
The soldiers' chilly glares turned on them.
I spotted him at the rear.
The professor?
Nipella Aoman.
Magic professor at the academy.
The guy who'd vowed to repay my life-saving grace was with the support team.
And not just him—scattered among them were mid-rank knights, at least.
Overkill much?
He'd passed out from my knee, but he seemed skilled enough as a mage.
Too skilled for goblin cleanup duty.
Unless...
Related to that shaman I stoned to death?
Not your average goblin.
If a single goblin was this level, what about the rest?
Had to be higher.
These soldiers couldn't handle it alone; average combat prowess must've spiked for survival.
Soldiers are basically armed civilians...
So these guys were the exception.
Made sense for a prestigious academy prof to show up personally.
The captain's muscles twitched. His furious scowl was obvious to anyone.
Thud, thud.
The ground seemed to shake with his steps.
"Why're you so late? We sent the request ages ago."
The wiry man at the support team's front sweated bullets.
"Th-that's... the request came late. Nothing we could do."
"Don't lie. We got your arrival signal thirty minutes ago. You're right nearby—took you over half an hour without fighting a single goblin?"
The captain was a wall of muscle, veins bulging with rage. Terrifying.
Wonder if I could bulk up like that.
"Urk!"
"Ah, sorry."
I'd glanced away and jostled the wound.
I apologized, refocused on healing, but eavesdropped.
"Run into a goblin slayer on the way?"
"N-no... the path was complicated. That's all."
"We nearly died thanks to you. No proper orders, no rest—fought three hours straight. Miracle no one's dead! You know that?"
"Well..."
The captain was pissed, tossing casual barbs at the support leader.
Captain's high up the chain?
Normally, rank tempers anger around superiors.
But the leader was flinching...
Higher rank than he looks.
Good call refusing the money.
Small favors pay dividends.
Cared for his men—not a bad guy. Leaving a good impression was profit.
"Did the young master delay it? Or your call?"
Sensing trouble mounting, the leader cleared his throat loudly, changing tack.
"Miscommunication in relay. We'll sort it later. Anyway, where'd the attacking goblins go?"
"...Their commander died. They scattered."
The captain grumbled but reined in his anger.
No point in a shouting match.
The support leader stroked his chin at the captain's words.
"You took out their commander? With this force?"
"Not us. This priest did."
"Priest?"
The captain pointed at me.
As eyes converged, I kept healing and turned.
"First time seeing a priest?"
"New face... Which temple? State your affiliation."
"He's our squad's benefactor."
The captain tried intervening, but the leader hardened, shedding his earlier fluster.
"We must verify identities. What if a black mage impersonates one, infiltrates, leaks intel? Sorry, but cooperate with the investigation..."
"Priest!"
Then Nipella pushed through the support team, calling me joyfully.
He looked far sharper than last time.
Monocle over his left eye, robe humming with magic, hair neatly combed.
"Professor Nipella Aoman?"
I'd spotted him earlier but feigned wide-eyed surprise. He burst into clear laughter, approaching.
"I regretted parting so soon, yet here we meet again! Delighted, priest."
"It's been barely a day. Looks like you made it back safe, though."
"Thanks to you."
The leader blinked between us, stunned.
Never dreamed I'd know the prof.
"Did you request dispatch, professor...?"
"No. He saved me when I went missing. I vouch for him."
"...I see. Apologies, priest. I overstepped."
"No harm done."
His earlier fawning and prof respect made it obvious; I let it slide.
Too busy healing...
I cleared debris, aligned the stump.
Splinted with a thick branch, bound tight, then infused divine power.
Almost there.
Two more minutes of power, and it'd reattach naturally.
Nerves fine, skin'll scar... but time heals.
In war, I'd full-restore. But this wasn't a battlefield; they had rest ahead.
Just in case.
I pumped extra power, smeared recovery herbs, shoved some in his mouth.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
"Chew and swallow. Good for recovery."
I tied my bundle, scanned the others.
No urgent cases. This leg guy was worst.
"All done?"
"Rest up. Feed 'em hearty—no skimping."
"I'll handle it. Let's move. Dangerous here."
I nodded.
Needed to grasp the situation.
And snag info along the way.
Surviving blind was impossible.
En route to camp, I asked the professor.
"What's really going on in this forest? Been holed up in my temple—clueless about the outside."
"Black mages..."
He sighed deeply, adjusting his monocle.
"A wanted criminal black mage—who turned a whole village into an undead horde—is here in this forest."