Chapter 13 - Anxious Companions: Porter, Hero, Fighter, and Healer.
Aptitudes vary not just in type, but wildly in performance too.
For instance, among the Healer Aptitude so commonly bestowed on lifelong devotees, you have everything from folks who can barely staunch a nosebleed to saints who restore sight to the blind. And the Monica sisters... well, they're pretty special even among that crowd.
In all my years as a porter, crossing paths with countless parties, I've never seen anyone match their healing prowess. It makes you wonder who their patron goddess might be.
Back when I was a kid, roughhousing in the mountains with Tena Everlight, I'd slip down a slope and snap my leg—but I'd only cry from the pain, not fear. Because as soon as Tena piggybacked me to the sisters, I'd be scampering around good as new in under an hour, like nothing happened.
"Those were the days, huh."
The Monica sisters and I shared a grin. Her smile was so pure and kind, like a clear spring—it felt healing in itself.
Esen Taiga glanced back at us, her eyes a mix of unease as she spied our little moment of camaraderie.
"Shouldn't you be back at camp tending patients, sis?"
"No emergencies right now, and there's other healers besides me. Sending me along means they want to make sure you get that promotion, right? Everyone's pitching in for it."
Esen's face soured at the sister's overflowing goodwill.
I sidled up to Esen and whispered, head bowed. "What's up?"
"She's reassuring back at camp, but the last person I wanna see on the battlefield."
"Why's that?"
"Our party's got this A-rank meathead orc fighter. Last time, on an S-rank danger mission hunting salamanders."
Salamanders. Fire-spewing newt-like monsters. The bigger they get, the worse the problem—and S-rank meant probably building-sized.
Damn. It hit me again: I'd joined the front-line elite party where the fights were insanely brutal.
"Said he took the healing and charged straight in. Body getting roasted over and over by flames."
"What?"
"Joint op with multiple parties got busted, had to retreat—but the orc went 'glorious death awaits!' and solo-charged. Then Monica sis follows, healing him non-stop till that flaming orc cracked the salamander's skull."
...I'd heard the rumor. Some psycho orc charged a salamander and walked out alive from the fire pit corpse.
Turns out it was true—and the star was our Special Monster Extermination Unit's female orc.
I mentally upgraded my assessment of the Monica sisters. She'd have revived me even if I'd shattered my neck falling off that mountain. No wonder the church summoned her away. Our little valley was too small to contain her.
"Guy burned dozens of times but walked out unscathed, earned the badass nickname 'The Bitch Who Survived the Flames.' Now he's in prime position for special-rank fighter. But the real legend's Monica. Party's dead set on pushing me to special-rank too."
"Didn't know her healing was that potent... but isn't that great?"
"If healers had ranks, she'd be special-rank," Esen grumbled. "But dragging someone like that along feels like cheating to ace the mission."
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
She hemmed and hawed, embarrassed. Even if special-rank certification was a pain in the short term, with Monica it'd be like having a hundred extra lives—felt like gaming the system.
I shook my head. Were all Tigress folk like this?
"That's rich coming from you. So the troll hunt with me was fake success too? You gonna skip promotion and head home?"
"Nah, but..." Esen rolled her eyes.
Something was off. Wasn't she dead set last night on scraping the monster's shoe sole if needed to rank up?
"Kinda worried if I screw the mission, something happens to Monica. We got plenty fighters without me, but she's core to the party."
Fair point if her healing was that OP, but why the sudden lack of confidence? Felt like she was making excuses.
"What're you two whispering about?"
Monica leaned in from beside us, her stride unfazed. That mountain swayed heavily. She'd probably bound them tight with compression bandages for the long march, but it only made the pulse feel weightier. I tried not to notice.
"Nothing much. Esen's just nervous about the promotion."
"Aw, don't be, Esen. Wanna pray together? Might steady your nerves."
Esen flinched at the overwhelming presence, then shook her head, face uneasy.
"Not a bad idea. If you're worried 'cause you don't know her sect, no need—got plenty laying-of-hands as a kid."
"Prayed every day for you to grow up right. And you did."
Monica and I traded another grin. I smiled back, desperately avoiding her chest. Get it together, Tan Bantai. Not blood, but family all the same.
Esen tugged my arm anxiously. "Hey, porter. What're we hunting again?"
"Cut it out."
"Cut what?"
"Mission's tracking the mystery demon sighted in Bitsurk. You've read the request sheet a dozen times—can't forget that. You're doing it on purpose. Jealous, huh?"
Esen tried for blank face, but her tail snapped rigid in tension and embarrassment. Nailed it.
Her inability to hide thoughts was kinda cute.
"'Cause you're too chummy with sis? Sorry, can't help it if it bugs you. I knew her way before your party crew."
"...?"
"Might be comrades to you, but she's like a big sis or mom to me. Yield her to me today. Unfair? Be from our village next life."
Esen blinked in confusion, then burst into booming laughter. I laughed heartily back, clueless.
As her laughs grew, she wiped teary eyes and muttered.
"Ada bastard..."
"...What?"
"So carefree. Treating the rest of the expedition like promotion props—how else you explain all that giggling?"
As I turned to bicker with Esen, a cold voice cut from behind.
Not from camp. Another party, then. The column mixed members from various parties. The demons were sly, strong, unknown—forces deemed joint ops necessary.
So no prior grudges... yet.
Esen scowled too. "What? Why's she bitching at us?"
Pointless provocation. Everyone in the scattered parties chattered happily. Hero parties weren't some silent regular army.
Maybe targeting us specifically. Esen's exam mattered to the whole party—a special-rank fighter was like a quality seal. Reputation and real pros were always good.
But we weren't the only ones on this risky gig. Rivals always gripe if a judge-candidate joins a big fight. Selfish. Their own would test someday, syncing with outsiders.
"Monster hunts are rough, grueling. Fine if rare women in that world bond. But you seem to have forgotten the gravity."
Overkill for that.
I turned. A paladin in thick, sweltering heavy plate glared like issuing a threat. Cross hammer on back, sun of Mitra on forehead. From the richest, strongest order.
Normally, eye contact impossible.
But Esen met her gaze and smirked.
"Don't care what you say—keep yapping."
"What?"
"Feeling generous, so I'll hear any bullshit. Just realized I massively misunderstood my friends."
"What nonsense you spewing, filthy beastkin? Girl party chit-chat make you lose reality?"
The scorn in "beastkin."
Esen pulled a hand from her pocket. Guess "hearing bullshit" didn't mean no comeback.
She geared up to snap back, snarky.
I quietly advised her to look away.
She snapped first. "Ugh, why? Dickless bitch pissing me off calling women 'bitches' and shit."
...That heavy armor was a woman? Wait, more importantly.
"Gender's irrelevant. Sister's trembling."
I whispered softly to Esen, glaring at her.
Monica stood mouth shut, shaking like a leaf in wind. Probably that paladin.
Sweet but resolute—never seen her like this.
Esen's eyes twitched seeing the bowed, quivering sister.
"Monica sis, you know that bitch? She do some shit to you before?"
If yes, Esen's face screamed instant turnaround and shredding.
But Monica shook her head. "Don't know her."
"Sounds exactly like you do, sis."
"Thanks for worrying, Esen. It's... personal."
"...Tell me later. Can handle her where no one's watching."
"Appreciate the thought, Esen. But not like that. Let's go."
Esen nodded, ignoring the paladin. Insults flying or not.
"Yeah, shut it like that. The serious ones'll claim the merits and promotions!"
Her party had an exam too, probably. Preemptive intimidation to edge out merits. Don't poach our prey.
In this mess with a psycho like that, Esen felt insanely reliable. Just having her side weighed heavy.
I subtly shielded the sister's shakes with my back. Out of sight.
Till boarding ships at Ragersa port entrance.
We arrived at Ragersa and boarded ship. Destination Bitsurk lay across the sea.
Cold sea wind seeped through cabin wood grains, whispering of northward voyage on our skin.
But Monica's reluctant words, haltingly spoken, chilled colder than North Sea air.
"Massacre?"