The ten or so people here are speechless and the ground looks ruined.

“Wait here, I-I will fetch some healing ointment.” The lady says as she disappears quickly back through the entrance. She looked terrified.

“Fuck, it hurts!” Kurat laments, as he squirms on the floor. The worst part is, he was so slow and weak it didn’t feel exhilarating at all. Only his defense was good. I walk up to him.

“Ah, stay away!” He looks at me and utters something like that. What am I, some kind of movie monster?

“Relax, I am just going to try and fix it up.” I say as I take a look at his arm. It is kind of grotesque. The forearm has snapped in half, bone is visible, while it is bleeding profusely. I wonder if my magic works well. What if it sets the bone wrong or something?

I shake my head and get to it, remembering Spetus’ sentence when he was made unfit for combat. Even if my magic doesn’t work, I don’t think other means will either, so I think it is worth a shot.

I weave my magic and course it over the arm. It unnaturally rises to its normal position, and while I can’t see what is going on exactly, what through the blood and the most important part taking place inside the arm, but I go until I think I only have a bit of magic left for emergencies and stop.

“What the actual hell?” Kurat’s mouth is gaping open, while inspecting his arm. Then, he suddenly takes to his stomach. “Argh, why does it feel like I have been starved for a week?”

It appears to have worked without issue. I turn around and see the small crowd absolutely flabbergasted.

The lady reappears then and there with a container cut of green stone, before being confused.

“How? When? Did I see things?”

“No you didn’t. It was this youngster here.” Kurat sounds weak as he climbs to his feet. “What a gift. Insane speed, immaculate strength and even healing. Is there anything it can’t do?”

While the healing had been misattributed to my gift and I was just about to correct it, I let it slide, seeing as I don’t really know how to explain where it came from.

“Turn back time.” I joke, as I am reminded of my study of Dixy.

“Hell, might as well have.” He almost whispers as he studies his arm.

“Shit I am hungry… And tired… Side effect I assume?” I simply nod to the description of symptoms from being a target of the healing magic.

“Well, consider me giving the boy the highest assessment and then some. Shit, look at this place. Thinking of getting it in order is giving me a headache. Well, it will be for later. I need to get something to eat and a nap.”

He walks towards the entrance and disappears. “Right then, let’s see what we can do for you.” She says, as she signals to come along and we walk back through the corridor. This time we end in a strange room with no roof and stone floor. There is a small crucible, next to a weird apparatus on top of a shallow basin. All of it is capped off with another man, sitting down and seemingly sleeping.

She walks over to him and taps her hand on the side of his face a little until he wakes up.

“Hng, huh, who’s there?”

“We need another card.” She says.

The man rubs his eyes and rises. “Right, right, what kind?” He says as he opens a drawer in a nearby cabinet. It is filled to the brim with tiny ingot.

“The flavite blend.” She says curtly.

“For real?” he looks over at me and laughs. “A young bigshot? The youngest, maybe?” He asks curiously to which the lady nods. Seems like my fraudulent age is going to mark a new record.

“Right, right… name?”

“Yian Runner.” She answers.

He opens yet another drawer, filled with tons and tons of small metal pieces each with a character on it. Since the written language of this world is logographic, names are constructed in quite a weird way. First off, there is a circle surrounding the symbols used, denoting that it is a name. Secondly, you only pronounce up, but not including the second vowel of the associated word. This meant that when it comes to names, there are a ton of ways of spelling the same name.

Though, people often spell their name with the most impressive words they can find. The symbols for words like dragon, power among men, and beauty, fertile for women. Like it actually means something.

It seems this guy doesn’t care how he spells other’s names though, as mine are picked from smell and dirt. I think some would probably take it as an insult.

A fire under the crucible is lit up and the yellow ingot placed therein. He then removes a weird slate from the apparatus, empties it and slides my characters in place, before returning it. He then lowers himself, so that his eye is level with the basin itself and twist some knobs until it hovers slightly over it. A rod is inserted, presumably to make a hole for the chain.

Then, after twenty minutes or so, the small crucible is carefully lowered and the liquid, yellow metal is flowing out. It fills the basin to a point, until he stops it and turns the knob to lower the plate a tiny bit more, before placing clasps on four sides of the basin.

Then, he removes the basin with a pair of tongs and places it is water. I remember the weird physics of this world, as it doesn’t bubble or anything.

Another handful of minutes pass before he lifts it up, removes the top and a small part of the bottom, through which he pokes a finger and my card is produced before my eyes. I look over the setup, that looks to be extremely specialized. I definitely don’t think this existed back when I joined my first guild. I am definitely intrigued by it.