Destined to Become a Heal Dog
The day I died once in the second world and came back.
I was invited to Bulldog’s place for dinner.
“Huh? You’re retiring?”
That was when the bolt from the blue hit me.
The news of Bulldog’s retirement.
It was bewildering. The man still had plenty of good years left. Was he out of his mind?
“I’ve lived pretty damn hard as a pioneer all this time. Worked solo instead of teaming up with others, so the pay was good.”
That much I already knew. It was exactly why I’d wanted to learn the pioneer life and magic from him in the first place.
Better to work alone than partner up with the primitive natives of this world.
“This last job catching that Orthrus finally topped off the savings I had in mind. At this rate I can retire and live comfortably. Even odd jobs as a street mage would be enough.”
Apparently Bulldog had been thinking about retiring for a long time.
“And more than anything, what happened today… you saw it.”
He rubbed at his neck. The same neck that had been sliced clean off earlier that day.
“I always knew pioneer work was dangerous, but actually dying makes a man think. I ought to see my grandson’s face at least once before I go.”
Not almost dying. He had died.
In the end, death was what forced his decision.
This rotten, useless death. Never helps when it counts.
“……”
I had nothing but silence to offer.
My position was just a porter. I wasn’t even a proper team member, only the guy who carried the bags. I had no right to beg him to keep working as a pioneer.
“Harua, I feel bad for you. Suddenly losing your job like this.”
So he did understand.
“Ahem. That’s why, while I’ve got the chance, I’ll teach you the magic you’ve been begging for.”
“Holy shit, you should’ve led with that! Retire immediately, sir!”
Thank god Bulldog died once today and decided to retire! Resurrection is the best! The killer is the best!
Bulldog watched me break into a victory dance and gave me a completely dumbfounded look.
“Kid, you really want to learn magic that badly?”
“I believe a noble life slinging spells from the rear is far more beautiful than the life of a vanguard who stupidly charges ahead and gets himself killed.”
I’ve always been a long-range kind of guy. The idea of swinging a sword around? No thanks.
It had absolutely nothing to do with getting kicked out of basic training for lacking physical stamina. When I played games back in the day, I only ever picked mage classes.
“You idiot. That’s only because you’ve been stuck with me. You think mages are safe? Monsters aren’t brainless. They instinctively know mages are the weakest link and focus them down!”
“That’s exactly why I want to become a combat mage like you, sir.”
“Damn, the kid’s got a silver tongue.”
Bulldog pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. The fact that he lit up without hesitation at the dinner table painted a rather tragic picture of his teaching style.
But today, even that looked cool. The dignified charm of a true mage. When you’re strong enough, you can get away with it. Complain about the smoke and he could just incinerate you with magic.
“You’ve got some money saved up, right?”
“You’re not after my measly coins, are you?”
“Bullshit. I don’t give a damn about your money. I’m just saying you won’t be able to work as a porter while you’re studying.”
Luckily I’d picked up an expensive potion earlier by chance. Selling it would keep me fed for a while.
“Yes, sir! I’ll study hard!”
“So you’ve decided to take Harua as your disciple after all?”
At that moment Bulldog’s wife appeared. She was an elegant woman who looked nothing like her gruff husband. Already in her late thirties, she could easily pass for a woman in her mid-twenties when she went out.
“Yes. I’ll learn diligently, and whenever anyone asks who my teacher is, I’ll proudly tell them it was the greatest mage alive—Bulldog.”
I shot up from my seat and made the declaration. His wife smiled.
“What a good disciple you’ve found.”
“Good my ass. Just don’t come crying that you can’t handle it and run away halfway.”
“I won’t run even if it kills me.”
“You’ll be the one sobbing, begging me to kill you instead.”
And so I became Bulldog’s disciple.
His words were rough, but I could tell he was genuinely fond of me. Exactly what I’d expect from one of the top five decent people among the primitive natives I’d picked out.
That very day, Bulldog’s magic lessons began.
To cut straight to the point, I had a real talent for magic.
The problem was that it wasn’t for ordinary magic.
“Light attribute… holy magic!”
Bulldog let out an impressed whistle.
Today’s lesson had been an aptitude test. The result was holy magic.
Holy magic. In simple terms, it was light magic specialized in buffs and healing for allies.
Which meant if I had no allies, I was a useless idiot.
My face crumpled.
Fire would’ve been fine. Water was okay. Earth was good. Hell, even darkness would’ve worked.
So why did it have to be light-attribute holy magic?
I’d been working as a pioneer long enough to know what holy mages were like. Every last one of them acted all noble and looked down on everyone else. In practice, they were basically the aristocracy among pioneers. They never even glanced at someone like me, so I’d never once spoken with one.
“You moron, holy magic is a jackpot! There are tons of pioneers out there desperate to recruit a holy mage for their teams.”
Even Bulldog said so. Holy mages were that valuable.
Pioneers fought fantasy beasts every single day and came back covered in wounds. A holy mage who could heal those injuries with a single spell was a priceless asset.
The catch was that holy mages couldn’t operate alone.
“…But you’re not a holy mage, sir.”
What I wanted wasn’t to be a heal dog throwing support spells from the back. I wanted to be a solo combat mage like Bulldog.
My dream had shattered in a single day.
“Ahem. So you really wanted to be like me that badly.”
For some reason Bulldog looked proud.
“Still… isn’t there any way to learn other attributes?”
Bulldog himself used both fire and lightning magic. I clung to that last thread of hope.
“No, it’ll be tough. Your affinity is too heavily skewed toward light. You’ll get extreme efficiency with holy magic, but the rest… honestly, you’ll struggle to see any real results.”
The answer was pure despair.
“Kid, a light attribute this pure is insanely rare. You’ve got the talent to reach the peak as a holy mage!”
Bulldog looked at my gloomy face like he couldn’t understand what the problem was.
“More importantly, this level of pure light affinity is truly uncommon. You don’t happen to have some hidden ability, do you? Attributes are influenced by abilities, after all.”
That was when it hit me like a spear through the skull.
That damn Emperor’s Resurrection Magic.
The reason my entire being had crystallized into light attribute was entirely because of that resurrection magic. I’d been happy thinking it was a power that could save lives, only for it to drop me straight into the abyss.
A sigh almost escaped me, but I held it back.
On the first day after returning from the second world, I’d tried to figure out how to make use of the resurrection magic. The conclusion had come quickly.
If I started throwing this around freely, I was finished.
Everyone values their own life. Resurrection magic brings that precious life back. Even if I took money in secret and revived people, how long would that secret possibly last?
When a dead person stands up again, as if anyone would keep quiet about it. Rumors would spread like wildfire. People would come after me from every direction. Everyone cherishes their own life, after all.
They would use any means necessary to kidnap me. Of course I could offer resurrection in exchange for protection from someone strong, but how could I guarantee that person would actually be good for me?
Trust the primitive natives? I’d rather bite my tongue and die. Better to keep the resurrection magic secret for the rest of my life than rely on those people.
“I don’t have anything like that. If I did, I would’ve done something about it already.”
So even though I possessed resurrection magic, nothing changed. The smartest move was to pretend it didn’t exist and live quietly.
Or become a monster so powerful that no one would dare touch me even if I spammed resurrection magic everywhere.
My goal had leaned toward the latter.
But even that goal had just become meaningless.
What was the point of becoming a heal dog?
“Back when I worked in a proper party, I knew one holy mage. I’ll introduce you. With your talent, he’ll jump at the chance to take you.”
“You’re just dumping your disciple on someone else?”
“Yeah, you little shit. A kid with talent like yours should learn from a proper expert from the start.”
Bulldog roughly tousled my hair.
“Consider it a good thing. At least you won’t end up half-baked like me.”
He grinned like a man.
I stared at him for a moment, then offered one last piece of lip service.
“You’re the best mage I know, sir.”
“Heh heh. Kid, go achieve greatness and pay me back someday.”
And just like that, I lost my teacher on the same day I gained him.
Our time together had only lasted five short months, but I learned an incredible amount.
I also discovered another side of Bulldog.
“…This is the place?”
I stood in front of a mansion so enormous it felt like a palace. In my hand was the recommendation letter Bulldog had scribbled for me.
I glanced around. Beyond the walls, luxurious mansions exactly like this one stretched down the street. Anyone could tell this was a neighborhood for the wealthy. This was, in fact, the noble residential district.
Of course, even here commoners outnumbered nobles. There were only a handful of actual nobles, but plenty of servants to maintain their mansions and handle their affairs. So walking around here wouldn’t normally seem strange. People would assume I was just a servant from one of the houses.
If I weren’t a transmigrator, that is.
I could feel strange gazes boring into my back. Black hair, black eyes. I looked exactly like a Korean man. The human nation of the Gladion Empire had an ambiguous appearance that fell somewhere between Eastern and Western features. Just as Koreans could tell Japanese and Chinese people apart, the residents of Gladion could instantly spot transmigrators.
Which made me a very alien presence here.
I should rip out all their eyeballs, those primitive native bastards.
I shook my head. Even the country itself grew tense in the noble residential district. I calmed myself and called out past the iron gate.
“Excuse me. Is anyone there?”
I used the kindest voice I could manage to call for the gatekeeper.
“Who is it?”
A man who looked like a gardener approached from inside. I smiled at him as sweetly as possible.
“Nice to meet you. I’m here to see someone named Lapiel.”
“You’ve come to see Lady Lapiel?”
The gardener narrowed his eyes at me. He looked me up and down.
“You’re a transmigrator, aren’t you?”
I could feel it immediately. This gardener hated transmigrators. The disgust in his eyes was impossible to hide.
“Yes. I have a recommendation letter.”
I held the letter out to him. The gardener craned his neck, examining it from every angle, then frowned deeply.
“Who would let you in on the strength of a scrap of paper like this?”
His tone had completely changed.
I’ve never been particularly fond of servants. They work under nobles but are really no different from ordinary commoners. Yet they create hierarchies among themselves and act like working in a noble’s house makes them special. In my eyes, whether noble or servant, they were all primitive.
“You can read, I assume?”
I asked politely.
“…What?”
“I asked if you know how to read.”
He couldn’t even speak properly. The gardener’s face flushed red. Must have a fever.
“O-of course I can read! I work at Lady Lapiel’s house!”
“Then after reading what’s written here, I doubt you’d be saying that.”
One of the defining traits of the primitive natives of this world was their illiteracy rate. If transmigrators had any special perk, it was the ability to read, write, and speak the language. It seemed to be an additional ability granted based on knowledge from before the transmigration.
In contrast, not many natives could read or write. The tendency was especially strong among those in manual labor. In a world where literacy alone earned you respect, it was a valuable skill.
Of course, transmigrators received no such benefit. They weren’t hired in the first place on the excuse that no one knew what trouble they might cause. It was a truly vicious, hateful world.
“Here. Read it out loud and clearly. Go on.”
I shoved the recommendation letter toward him. At my insistence, the gardener’s eyes shook violently.
“Can’t read it? You really can’t, can you? Then why pretend you can?”
“I-I can read it. My eyes are just a little blurry right now.”
“Aha, so you’re illiterate!”
“Y-yeah, illiterate, that’s the word!”
What an idiot.
“Anyway, go get someone who actually knows how to read.”
“No, I’m telling you I can read it!”
“Over there.”
At that moment a young voice came from beyond the iron bars. When I turned my head, I saw a girl in a neat dress. She was small in stature, perhaps in her mid-teens. Her entire face carried the delicate air of a young lady.
“What is all this commotion?”
The moment I saw her, I understood.
She was a child of a noble house. I brought my knees and feet together, bowed at the proper angle, placed one hand behind my back and the other politely in front.
“It is an honor to meet you, miss. My name is Harua. I am an aspiring holy mage who received a recommendation from the combat mage Bulldog, who has made quite a name for himself among pioneers.”
A clean, courteous greeting with no unnecessary words. I could feel the gardener’s eyes widening like he was looking at a madman.
Ah. So this was how a proper greeting looked.