The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
A Step Forward
The week-long vacation had been anything but relaxing, but the sacrifice of rest had been well worth it. Throughout those days, I had mended dozens of crippling injuries, from ruptured organs to replacing legs lost decades ago in farming accidents. And it wasn't just the infirmary's patients; word had spread like wildfire, drawing townsfolk and villagers from all corners of the countryside to our humble church.
A few nobles of wealth and influence had even sent personal servants, inviting me to their estates. But at Fyren's insistence, I had turned them all down, dedicating myself solely to the church's work. With the stalwart adventurer as my guardian, my mana had been drained constantly as I slowly perfected the fifth-circle healing spell. Surprisingly, despite the stir my presence had caused, we had managed to avoid trouble the entire week—until the last day.