-
Yes, beat it till it bleeds! Votes: 4 12.1%
-
Its abuse, you sick bastard! Abuse I say! Votes: 13 39.4%
-
Hmm, let me watch a bit more Votes: 7 21.2%
-
Couldn't you have come up with a better poll? Tch. Votes: 9 27.3%
Outside a simple wooden cabin, Kiran raised his fist to knock. However, his fist didn't fall; instead, he gulped. A moment passed as the black-clad man’s fist remained risen before it finally fell and knocks echoed out.
The answer was not immediate and Kiran waited as another moment passed and then several went by before the door finally opened and a man left the room, limping. “Come in.” An aged voice called out and the dark-haired man gulped once more while his feet lingered.
Yet, he tarried not for long and entered to greet with folded hands the ancient man within. One just didn’t make a Tier 3 [Healer] wait for no reason.
“Help me deal with the patients for the day.” The [Healer] slowly enunciated and Kiran nodded earnestly before he took a seat behind the white-haired man. The man was old, but not just old. He seemed ancient. His hair was thin to the point his scalp peeked through while his skin was brown and spotty. Wrinkles marred his face and hands while veins seemingly threatened to pop out from beneath his aged skin.
His movements were slow and stiff. Even his breathing was affected by his age and was short but even. The ancient man sat behind a desk littered with notes, bottles and instruments. There was even a massive jar of water next to the desk.
The aged man pointed at a notebook lying in front of him. The notebook was nothing special. Its pages were white and the cover brown. It was almost full and seemed to be on its last pages. Though the pages that were filled, they contained within diagrams of mortal Vessels, their diseases, symptoms, diagnoses and prescriptions. They were a record of all the old [Healer]’s patients.
“Use it.” The old man made an effort to speak each word clearly. “Record your observations in it.”
“This?” Kiran’s wide eyes stared at the notebook. “Isn’t this your [Spirit Tool], Guruji? Should I really be touching it?”
“What is the point of speaking so much nonsense?” The older man’s almost hairless eyebrow’s furrowed, and he chided in a long drawn. “If I tell you to you to use, use it.”
“Ye-Yes Guru Ji.” Kiran picked up the notebook gently as if it were not an object but a new-born child itself. He gingerly read the notes on the last page but it made almost no sense to the black-clad man. Although they were both from the same field, in front of the ancient man Kiran was but a beginner. Perhaps, maybe not even that since he had fallen.
Kiran sighed and flipped the last page to reveal the brown cover beneath. But, as the previous page settled down, a new page materialised in its place and Kiran marvelled at the notebook with wide eyes. At that moment, a chime rang as the old man called for his next patient. A moment passed before a woman entered, supporting a man covered in pockmarks and pustules.
Barely had the couple seated themselves when the woman began speaking at a speed too fast to understand. Her hands were animated, her eyes were wet and her speech was incomprehensible. What she said and what she wanted to say, none of it was understood by anyone.
The old man did not stop her though and let her speak. He even nodded as she spoke and egged her on until she had nothing more to say anymore. Meanwhile, Kiran had already activated his Skill [Anatomy Vision] to analyse the patient. However, as he used his Skill, whatever he saw, whatever he noticed and whatever he paid special attention too, all was etched into the notebook in his hands.
The circulation of blood was drawn in clear ink while the notes and observations were neatly mentioned.
“What do you think?” The older man’s slow voice resounded and the woman frowned for a moment. But then her eyes flickered to the older man, and she kept her silence.
“This seems like spotting sickness, guruji.” Kiran’s eyes shifted to the woman for a moment before he continued in a smaller voice. “Contagious and fatal if left untreated.”
The woman’s eyes widened and she started speaking again. Though this time, the old man raised a hand to signal for silence. “Open spotting sickness.”
The notebook in Kiran’s hand came alive at the old man’s words and its pages flipped endlessly. Pages after pages flashed past one after another before they separated themselves from the notebook. “Hmm.” The notebook continued to flip, and pages continued to emerge as the old man asked. “What is the treatment mentioned?”
Kiran removed his eyes from the floating pages to look at the old man before his eyes once again fell on the floating pages. “The sap of the Black Neem.” The bearded man squinted as he began to read. “But where would we find that here?”
“Hmm. Black Neem.” At that moment, the water in massive jar stirred and a thin stream of crystal-clear liquid rose in the air. The liquid formed a glob in front of the white-haired man’s face and began rotating. As the liquid rotated, its clarity began to reduce and it took on a green hue which continued to darken and thicken as the liquid rotated. In but a few moments, the crystal-clear water had turned into a blackish green sap.
The sap gradually stopped rotating and gently flew into one of the bottles on the desk. At that moment, Kiran picked up the bottle to screw it shut and handed it over to the woman as he gave her the prescription.
After the woman and the man left, Kiran eyes lingered on the massive jar and the water within.
“That is my [Spirit Ghost].”
“Ah yes, yes guruji.” Kiran’s voice erupted at a higher pitch than normal. He cleared his throat before he continued. “I had assumed such too. This is just my first time seeing a [Spirit Ghost] this closely.”
“What a waste of talent.” The older man’s slow voice was sharp. “You identified the cause with just one use of [Anatomy Vision], yet you insist on wearing that eyesore.”
Kiran’s shoulders hunched, and his head lowered in shame as the old man’s words bit into his core. He closed his eyes and his breathing shortened but he did not reply.
The old man harrumphed at the silence and pressed the busser. “Don’t marvel at the accomplishment of others. Make your own instead.”
-X-
Within a desolate desert, inside a dilapidated shop, on a simple chair, a youth seemingly slept.
-X-
Patreon
Thanks for the chapter
thanks for the chapter