Chapter 55: What Am I Doing? (1/2)

Morris was not at the in inn when Mike got back. It was still only a little after lunch. With nothing better to do, he sat on his bed, still deep in thought.

He glanced at his [Status] briefly and saw that his skills had returned to what they were prior to the strange skill's activation, with two noted exceptions. His Almiran Swordsmanship had risen a tier to Journeyman. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be any additional effects.

It was the other entry, however, that caught his attention. His Intermediate Healing Magic had advanced all the way to Rank 5, and had picked up another effect.

Rank 5 Effects: Return to Origin

-Return to Origin -

Practitioners of Intermediate Healing Magic gain instinctive understanding of the way living things function, grow, and heal. They can use this knowledge to overcome the usual hurdles in the healing process, allowing them to heal injuries above and beyond what is normally possible. Allows the user to replace lost body parts, regenerate lost limbs, and cure even congenital defects. Cannot be used to reverse the effects of aging.

Mike couldn't wait to try this on Morris once the other man had returned. He had been feeling guilty about the not being able to help his friend with his injury, despite the progress he had made with his healing skills. Now he finally felt he could do something to pay Morris back.

After this brief moment of excitement, his thoughts returned to the predicament he found himself in.

There were powerful people out there who knew his identity, and where to find him. And they apparently wanted to capture him for some purpose.

Mike didn't want to imagine the reach of an organization or individual who had a fighter like Brutus at their beck and call. Hopefully Tier 4 warriors were rare enough that they couldn't afford to send another one after him.

The most terrifying aspect of this situation was that he didn't realy know who they were, what they wanted, or even how they came to know his identity in the first place. He could reasonably assume that they were vampires based on Brutus's race, but he didn't know what that meant.

Were vampires a dangerous monster, like in the legends of his old world? Or were they considered as another race of beings like elves or dwarves. He didn't know, and had never thought to find out.

[I'm not strong enough. I don't know enough. I have been living my life in a carefree manner ever since I reincarnated here. Even when my life and the lives of others were in danger, I couldn't bring myself to believe that all of this was real, with real consequences.]

He had been thinking of this world and everything in it as some kind of story or game. Trusting in the blessings he had been given, Mike had simply gone with the flow, rarely seeking to do more than simply figure out what new thing to check out. He had willfully become a passive observer in his own life.

He never stopped to think what effect his choices might have had. Who might get hurt in the process.

Mental images flashed across his mind. Morris clutching his severed arm. Devin lying in a shattered pile. A broken Philip trying desperately to cradle Kate with his useless limbs, as she died in front of him.

Sighing, he held his head in his hands.

[What am I doing?]

It was clear that he couldn't continue like this.

Mike started quietly muttering to himself. ”If I am to live in this world, I will need to take responsibility for what I do, and what I set in motion. If I am to be the Hero that everyone seems to think I am destined to be, I can't simply keep going with the flow.”

He stood, and the volume of his voice rose with him. ”Alright, from here on out, I'm going to be better than before. I will become stronger. I will become smarter. And I will not let anyone else get hurt because of me!”

”Oy! Shut up already! Some of us are trying to sleep!” A rude voice came through the wall.

”Oops. Sorry!” Mike called, before remembering that it was still early afternoon.

”Hey, wait a minute...”

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Morris traveled through the Merchant District on his way to the slums. He had to admit, his father was every bit a crafty as his reputation made him out to be.

Even though the events of the Night of Wrath had largely distracted the populace, with one simple maneuver, Count Graveston had solved the problem that had been plaguing Morris for days.

As far as he could tell, Morris's father had only sent a single quickly written message, but before a day had passed, the issue had been largely resolved.

A young and gifted member of the Church of Teun had come forward publicly to claim responsibility for the Saint of West Street incident. Supposedly, this young man had traveled the city in disguise, healing for a fraction of the normal price, as a means of training himself while inspiring worship of the gods.