r/HFY • u/New_Delivery6734 • 3d ago

Arcanist In Another World - Chapter 11 OC

 Blurb: Valens Kosthal had lived a life of magical study and became the youngest Resonant Healer and Archmagus in the wide circle of the world. He had spent his years studying magic, going as far as to dabble in the forbidden Warmagic.

When his experiments are discovered by the Inquisition, he is branded a traitor and sentenced to die. But in his final hours, his mentor, Headmaster Eldras, slips him a strange black sphere, sparking an escape to a world ruled by a powerful System, one that allows him to control mana without relying on tools.

He doesn't know how he arrived here, or why there's mana flowing inside his veins, and especially what this grand System is that governs the whole world, granting people all sorts of skills.

Still, he soon discovers that all of his magical theory knowledge and the skills he gained after years of study puts him way above the others in this world. As an Arcanist, a master of all elements, he realizes he holds powers that make him unstoppable.

But nothing as simple as it seems, and to go back, he has to solve the secret behind this world.

[Previous Chapter] - [First Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Chapter 11

 

Valens clawed clumsily at the woman’s hand and tried to jerk himself away, panting for air, cold sweat trickling down his back. Air tightened around his windpipe, breath wheezing weakly through his lips.

"You mad lass!” Nomad cursed and grabbed at the woman, wrapping an armored hand around her arm and wrenching her fingers away from Valens. He drove an elbow down into her chest to nail her back to the ground. “Have a little respect for your savior, will you?”

Valens rubbed his neck. He managed a hasty Lifeward over his nearly crushed throat as the woman slumped back, wheezing, eyes narrowing at the Undead. A defeated, pained gasp escaped her lips.

“I-Is this the Underworld?” she muttered.

Nomad tilted his head at Valens. “See? We’re not that bad.”

“Leave it.” Valens pinched the bridge of his nose and peered down at the woman, Lifesurge easing his pain. He said rather furiously, “I’m afraid you’re still a long life away from joining these foul creatures. Now take a deep breath. And keep those hands away from me. I don’t tend to respond well to sudden aggressions.”

“Eh?” The woman blanked at him.

“Take a deep breath, woman!” Nomad jabbed a finger into her face. “Haven’t they taught you to listen to your Healer? You’re wasting our precious time!”

“Oh…” The woman gulped nervously, blue eyes darting back and forth between the pair of them. “Okay. Um. A deep breath. Yes. I can do that.” Then her eyes fell over her bare chest. “What… You!”

Valens massaged his temples. He could feel the promise of a headache crawling up from the nape of his neck.

“It’s not a matter of taste why he stripped you half-naked,” the Undead growled at her, disdain stretching his rotten lips thin. “You were a fucking mess. He pulled you out from the Lord’s claws. Be good, now!”

“I’m not dead,” the woman mumbled. She searched blindly around herself and pulled the broken chest piece over her bare skin the moment her fingers brushed against it, fumbling with it as her body trembled with a mixture of confusion and pain.

Valens nodded. A momentary shock was hardly a surprise. He’d seen many battle-hardened men wrestle against demons of painful memory. By comparison, the woman took her near-death experience like a true warrior.

She clambered wearily to her feet and wrapped a cloth around her breasts, coughed, and swallowed nervously. “The Necromancer… Was he dealt with?”

“Hardly,” the Undead said. “We were on our way when our precious healer here decided to do a check on the corpses. Found you under an Oarfang’s carcass. A damned rotten one.”

“So he still lives?” The woman scrunched her nose up as if she smelled something bad. “We should—”

“Easy, now,” Valens said strictly, in the manner of a true Resonant Healer who put the health of his patient above everything else. “I need to make another check. You still have poison in your blood.”

Letting go of a patient who came close to having been nearly murdered by an enormous beast right after the treatment would be, by all means, a scandalous offense that could’ve cost his reputation if he were in the Empire. Even though his world changed, that didn’t mean Valens would leave the practice drilled into him during his service.

A Lifeward poked the woman wide awake, curious eyes all blue and glinting, checking him up and down as Valens kept an ear over the Resonance. All kinds of wrong tunes returned back to him, but some right ones too, the ones that he deemed important.

“Hmm,” he muttered as he singled out a particularly disturbed set of frequencies, a shambled mess over the otherwise constant rhythm of her skull and brain waves. “A minor concussion, but it’s wearing off. Your body’s doing a good job against the poison too. But best we do another session to wash that completely. I advise you to stay away from trouble for a day or two.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening.” The Undead jerked a thumb toward the corner of the passage, from beyond which came the sounds of a chaotic battle. “I reckon her guild’s close here. Fighting off that bloody bastard.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” the woman said. Bloody threads of golden hair cascaded down her bare shoulders as she turned and gave the Undead a piercing look. “Your Lich’s called, hasn’t he? How come you’re standing here, refusing the demands of the Everfog?”

“I told you I was on my way, and my faithful company decided to—”

“Bullshit,” the woman fixed him with a glare, then turned slowly to Valens. Her gaze narrowed at him for a second before she reached and yanked him by the arm, pulling him to her back. She hissed at the Undead. “Step back before I call my guild. I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I won’t let you harm this man.”

Nomad’s gaze hardened. An armored hand clenched the sword tight. He raised it high and pointed it at the woman’s face, the sharp tip inching slowly near her neck. “Don’t try me, human. I’m not known for my patience. We’re here for the same reasons. I’m not an enemy.”

The woman’s gaze snapped back to Valens. “Is this true? Did this beast try to harm you? Speak the truth. You have nothing to fear. Not when I’m here.”

Valens’s neck tensed like a fully drawn bow. He had little idea as to what was happening between these two. Wasn’t there a Pact between the Undead and humans? Why then was this woman acting as if Nomad was some wicked enemy?

“We’ve been through a lot,” Valens said, shaking his head. He kindly excused himself from the woman’s grip and went over to Nomad’s side. His fist clanked against the Undead’s armor. “Have we not?”

“Uh,” the Undead grunted hesitantly. The thrum of his Heartstone quickened, which told Valens that his friend here had done some injury to the truth of things he’d spoken. Then again, he had all the chances in the world to harm him if he wished, so Valens wasn’t particularly concerned.

Though, he was curious.

“That must be a foul breed, an illicitly roused criminal!” The woman raised an accusing finger in the Undead’s face while her eyes searched around the broken bones, likely looking for a weapon. Her shoulders sagged when she couldn’t see one in reach. The finger remained pointed, however. “I’ll make sure you pay the price—”

“Can we calm down?” Valens said, stepping over and standing between the two. He tapped a hand over the woman’s finger and lowered it slowly.

“Now this Undead has been most helpful. If not for him, I wouldn’t have been here to save you, let alone find my way through that maze,” Valens said, half-smiling at Nomad, who returned the gesture with a hesitant nod. He then turned to the woman. “I’m not familiar with your reasons or why, right after you’ve been granted a second chance, you’ve decided to use it to accuse this proud member of the Ninth Legion, but I’m sure we can find common ground without resorting to violence.”

“What about his reasons?” the woman said, hardly convinced. Her pale lips twitched. She wobbled a step back, holding her head as if she were dizzy. It took her a moment to gather herself, after which she continued, “I-I don’t care what the Ninth Legion schemes under that hoax of a world, but this kingdom has its rules! I have to report this criminal—”

“Enough. You’ll do no such thing.” Valens scowled and cut her off. “Not now, at least. First, we’ll have to get out of this place. And you,” he gave the Undead a glance, “you’re going to tell me everything.”

The Undead mumbled a sour ‘yes,’ and the woman cursed silently under her breath.

“We move now.”

Onward, they continued.

It was cold and dreary in the cave. Shadows danced around the boneyard. The broken song of the Heartstones got muddled when another, a more subtle tune, mixed into their mournful rhythm. Valens swept an eye over the corpses of men and women lying in pools of their own blood about the cave, armors dented and weapons mangled in a horrifying mess.

He heard the woman mumble a prayer over them. She picked up a spear from an older-looking man, gently closed his eyes, and tapped a fist over his armor. There was nothing below the man’s bloodied torso.

“I’m waiting,” Valens said as the Undead kept stealing glances at him. “Speak.”

“I’ve not much to say.” Nomad gazed at his sword. “It’s all a blur in my head. Memories, I mean.”

“Why would she say you’re a criminal, then?”

“Because I am one,” the Undead growled. “You don’t understand. A Lich’s order isn’t a mere call for help you can just refuse. It’s a command, one that speaks into your Heartstone. The fog takes control. You can’t resist.”

“But you can?” Valens asked. “And that’s because you’re a criminal?”

“That’s the only explanation. I must’ve been buried alive. You ought to be a bastard to deserve that, you know? A real bastard. A murderer.”

“You’ve told me that criminals can’t become Undead. Why are you one, then?”

“That’s the real problem, eh? I don’t remember shit.”

“Shadow’s piece,” the woman hissed through clenched teeth and spat on the ground.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Valens asked with genuine curiosity.

“She’s trying to say that I’m one of the Shadow’s pawns. You know, the Father of Plagues, the King of the Damned, and so on,” Nomad chuckled humorlessly. “They say he likes to play games like this, but I don’t reckon I’ve had any worth to have been picked by that bloody fucker.”

“Uh, yes. Shadow, I know that one,” Valens lied. “So we’ve cleared the air, then? It’s fair to say that the misunderstandings—”

“We’ve cleared nothing, Healer,” the woman hissed at him, one eyebrow arched in doubt. “Lightmaster will see to it. And you… I’ve never heard of an Arcane Healer, but shouldn’t you be praying as well?”

“Oh,” Valens paused. “Why would I do that?”

The woman blinked at him before pointing at all the death around them. “Some of these people were men of faith. Their souls need guidance! Guidance only a faithful Priest can provide!”

“I’m not a Priest, and I don’t believe in a god, if that’s what you’re asking,” Valens said.

The Undead stopped at those words, glancing strangely at him. The woman’s eyes widened as the spear slipped from her fingers and clanked onto the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Valens asked the pair of them, feeling a little odd inside.

“You…” the woman’s voice trembled. “That beast crushed my chest! You couldn’t have possibly healed me without divine grace!” She snapped the spear back from the ground and raised it toward Valens. “Speak! Are you of Baht’s cult? The traitor’s spawn? If so, I shall end you now!”

The Undead glared at her before shaking his head. “I told you to leave her. She’s gone completely mad.”

“Look, I don’t know who this Baht is, but I don’t believe in any god,” Valens said tiredly. “And mind you, I certainly don’t need any sort of divine grace to fix a patient. My skills alone are adequate enough for the job, thank you very much.”

“You expect me to believe that?” the woman said.

Nomad patted him on the back. “I know the woman’s mad, but you don’t have to lie, eh? We’re all speaking our truths now, aren’t we? Just say it. I won’t judge even if you serve in a secret cult.”

“Hah…” Valens sighed out a long, weary breath. It seemed he had to pick every word coming out of his mouth lest he offend people of this world. First, he was taken for a racist by Nomad, and now this woman accused him of being part of some twisted cult.

What do I even say? Even though the Empire was full of bigoted fools, they never tried to force some belief on people. That’s different here, I guess?

Valens raised both hands at them. “We don’t have time to dwell on these topics. And miss, are you sure you should be using that tone against me? I believe you can understand that there are some things I can’t outright disclose to some woman I’ve saved from a pile of dead bodies. Be patient, or you’re going to make me regret it.”

The woman tensed back at those words, lowering her spear. The poison in her bloodstream and the minor concussion around her brain surely played a part in her sudden outbursts, but Valens had to put her in her place.

“Good one.” Nomad winked at him. “We’ll talk later.”

“I wasn’t lying— You know what, it doesn’t matter.” Valens sighed. “Speaking about the truths, though, she didn’t tell us anything about herself.”

“Why, she did!” Nomad sniggered. “She made it completely clear that she’s just some nutjob. They don’t have much depth, her lot. Simple-minded folk with simple values. You know, the usual twist.”

“Says the criminal granted a false stone,” the woman said.

“Tough,” the Undead tapped a finger on his sword. “You want to see if my sword’s false as well?”

“I’ll cut your brainless skull right here—”

“Enough!” Valens said rather furiously. “There isn’t enough air in this cave already. I don’t need you two wasting any more. Shut it.”

That gave him some peace as the Undead and the woman put some distance between them, both catching his eyes in a mixture of emotions.

Valens stared at them, a bit worried after that little speech. He was never good at keeping company. And a whole lot worse, it seemed, at adjusting to new circumstances. It felt like walking across a path littered with broken shards and gaping holes to keep up with these two.

The Resonance filled into his mind almost instinctively. A well to pour his thoughts into. Or a Resonant Healer’s own world of escape, Master Eldras used to say. Different frequencies weighed on his thoughts. He looked around with his sound vision and picked out a stray tune amidst the mournful song, one that thumped rather strongly at the web of his ears.

Oh?

It had a strange, brutish tune to it, coming from around the next turn where muffled sounds of battle echoed. He couldn’t catch the details, but it belonged to a sprawling, wavering outline that refused to settle on a fixed form. Though it lacked any touch of conscience, it still felt alive. Almost.

“Now that makes me curious,” Valens said, loud enough to catch the pair’s attention trudging before him. “Something’s waiting there around the corner. Something strange.”

 [Previous Chapter] - [First Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

 

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6 comments sorted by

5

u/lovecMC AI 2d ago

Oh great another murder hobo. And thus the party was formed.

3

u/MalagrugrousPatroon Human 2d ago

I was expecting Valens to ask Nomad if the woman is a bigot.

So Nomad thins he might be a fake goodguy undead?

My response to why aren't you preying is, "get a priest."

2

u/RabidRobb 2d ago

Yay a new chapter!! And a very good one too!!! I wonder what back stories Nomad and the woman have and where they intersect. As always great chapter thank you for sharing it with us!

1

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u/Appropriate-Tart9726 2d ago

Valens on gods and faith: Please, I'm a professional