Our journey tinued for awo days, during which we entered several more herds of mini-bison. However, I refrained from any further experimentation. It didn't feel right to kill animals merely to test my abilities, especially since I already had an abundance of biso. I attempted to feed Stretch raw minced beef, but the spoiled wolf insisted on it being cooked. So, I made him patties, and he showed his appreciation with a teail wag and eager ping.

  On the evening of the sed day, I sat by the fire, strumming my guitar. I stumbled upon the chords for "Que Sera Sera," a song that Sophie, my te wife, adored. As I pyed, memories flooded back, and tears welled up in my eyes. Stretch, sensing my sorrow, pced his head gently in my p. I stroked his fur and began to ret stories of Sophie to him, my voice trembling with emotion.

  "You know, Stretch," I began, my voice trembling, "Sophie had this incredible sense of humor. She could make me ugh even on the worst days."

  Stretch looked up at me with his soulful eyes, and his ears perked as if he were hanging on to every word.

  "And she was absolutely hopeless i," I tinued, a bittersweet smile pying on my lips. "Years of cooking lessons from me, and she could still only make omelets or simple pasta. Once, she tried to make a cake for my birthday and ended up with something that resembled a brick more than a dessert. We ba oable, ughing, and she took me out for donuts and stuck a dle in one of them."

  Stretch tilted his head, almost as if he could picture the se.

  "But she had this way of making everythier," I said, my voice growing softer. "We used to dan the living room, just the two of us. No music, just our own little world. I still miss her so much, but at least now I think about her without feeling like my world is falling apart."

  Stretch whined softly, nuzzling my hand in a gesture of fort. I smiled through my tears, grateful for his presence. I tialking to him, and telling him stories from our life together. He listened, licked my hand occasionally, and made me feel that I wasn’t alone. I was grateful for his unwavering panionship.

  The day, a heavy mencholy settled over me, and I walked in sileretch, ever in tuh my emotions, stayed close by my side without his usual pyful antics. As we walked, my thoughts drifted to my looting spell. I still couldn't uand why the pelt had flown off when I wa to stay put, or why I could separate meat from bones but only get it minced or in small ks. It didn't make any sense. I realized my ck of knowledge about this world's magic system was hindering me.

  It dawned ohat perhaps my problem was a ck of uanding. The Traveler's at had mentiohat this world’s magic system was underdeveloped, but maybe I could learn from local experts. I could visit a butcher or a hunter and ask them to show me the proper teiques. To perform a task, one must first learn it.

  Cheg my Map, I saw that despite all my traveling, I had moved barely two timeters on the World Map. Zooming in, I noticed a town to the northeast and decided to head in that dire. It was time to meet people again. Just in case, I tied a red bandana around Stretch's o make him look more domesticated.

  After another day's walk, we reached a dense forest. I oriented myself using the Map and headed towards a nearby road. After a couple of hours, I heard voices. I stopped, spent 500 mana to learn the loguage, and crept closer to ehey were human and to uand enough to unicate. As I listehe more I uood, the less I liked what I heard.

  "Did you * them *?"

  "Yes. Lopan * them * the inn."

  "You * only one guard?"

  "Yes. Guard and *."

  "Maybe * * muards?"

  "Stop asking * * questions. * * afraid go home."

  "Not afraid * asking."

  "Be quiet."

  "Why? They are far * * hear us."

  "Be quiet."

  Creeping closer, I hid behind some bushes. Stretch, my genius wolf, crept alongside me, remaining silent. Through the leaves, I saw two men hiding behind trees he road. They stopped talking and mostly cursed at the bugs, but I learned some colorful local swear words like "mukar turd" and "shatmek-eating nitwit."

  Soon, a carriage came into view, and the meheir swords. I couldn't let them harm or kill anyone, so I summoned my staff and prepared to intervehe an suddenly fell from the carriage, and the two men charged. I ran after them, sweeping the feet out from under one of them. The guard used the opportunity to stab the other bandit iomach. I wi the sight; I had inteo disable, not kill.

  An arrow whizzed past my ear and struck the carriage. I saw Stretch darting towards the source of the arrow. I followed, hearing growling, a shout of pain, and then Stretch whining in pain. I burst through the bushes to find a man, bleeding from one arm and holding a knife iher. Stretch was injured, and a wave of anger surged through me. I struck the man’s head, breaking his neck. The shock of taking a life momentarily stunned me, but I snapped out of it. He had likely killed the an. I checked Stretch's wound—it wasn't deep, and I healed it immediately.

  Rushing back to the road, I found the an barely alive. Casting Diagnosis, I found out that the arroierced his ribs, nicked his heart, and lodged in his lung. He was coughing up blood. I couldn't see the arrowhead, but judging by the wound, the tip was straight, not barbed. I could pull it out slowly and heal as I went.

  After partitioning my mind, I cast Ahesia and started to work when I felt a sword pressed to my throat.

  "Stop!" The guard's voice was sharp, his eyes wide with urgency as he pressed the sword closer to my throat.

  "I healer, help," I responded, my heart pounding but my voice steady.

  "You healer?" he asked, his brow furrowing in suspi.

  "Yes," I affirmed, nodding.

  "Stop!" he repeated, his tone more insistent.

  fusioched ay face. I didn't uand why he repeated the and, but I made a questioniure with my hand, hoping it was universally uood.

  "This man * important. In the * * important man. And * is * sick. Heal him." The guard's face was stern, his eyes darting towards the coach.

  "Sick man wait. This man no. He will dead," I insisted, my voice growing firmer as I looked him in the eye.

  "Stop! The man ** coach is * important. This man * not; he die," he decred, his expression hardening with determination.

  Standing up angrily, I ched my fists and said, "NO! Heal man first, then man in coach." My voice was ced with frustration.

  He tried to grab me, but I pushed him away forcefully. "You stop me," I poi Stretch, "And he ...” I didn’t know the word for bite yet, so I made a biting motion with my mouth. Stretch growled menagly in response, his teeth bared.

  Returning to the an, I recast Ahesia and tinued extrag the arrow. My hands moved quickly but carefully, and my mind focused oask despite the tension. Ohe arrow was out, I cast Healing Toud ceased the Ahesia. The an remained asleep, which didn't me; I had seen this rea in Stretch before.

  I gently shook the an's shoulder to wake him, water, bread, and cheese. "Dri. Down. When feel good, up. Uand?" I asked, my tole but firm.

  He hankih words I didn't fully uand but whose meaning was clear from his grateful expression and tone.

  Turning to the guard, I said, "Now sick man," my voice steady and authoritative.

  The sight of the two dead bandits, their throats cut, stopped me. I had seeh in the ER and treated many gunshot and stab wounds, but I had never been directly involved in causing it. Shaking my head, I reminded myself there was still a sick man to treat.

  Approag the coach, the guard opehe door. Inside, amid a pile of plush pillows, y a man who sneezed loudly as the door opehe guard began a detailed at of the attack. Initially, I caught every other word, but uanding the text and being there helped improve my prehension rapidly.

  Ohe guard finished reting the events, the man turned his ire on me, his face t with fury. "How dare you ** healing * a garbage oner!" he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have * idea who I am? I am Lord Mekan, and my health ** important than * of a worthless an!" His eyes bzed with indignation, aarted sneezing. "You dare to * that * of filth over me? The audacity! You must be * or utterly inpetent to think * life * any value pared to *."

  He tinued his tirade, his voice rising with each word. "I should * * * flogged for this insolence! What kind of healer are you, ign the needs of your betters? Do you not uand * hierarchy here? My life, my wellbeing, is *! That oner is nothihan nothing! He is expendable, a tool to be used and discarded. A, you stand here, defying me, refusing to heal me first!" His face was a mask of pt, his eyes narrowing as he looked down on me. "You will regret this, healer. You will regret crossing Lord Mekan."

  His tirade showed no signs of abating as he tio rant. "Do you think yourself noble for saving a wretch like him? Foolishness! Sheer foolishness! You should be begging for my fiveness, not defying me. I am a man of power, of influence. I could have you thrown into the darkest dungeoo rot for your defiance. A here you stand, i and proud. I will see you broken, healer. I will see you grovel for mercy when you realize the grave error of your ways...” By this point, I tuned him out and waited for him to run out of steam. At least the tirade taught me much more of the nguage.

  His tirade sted ten minutes, revealing three things:

  He was a total shithead.He didn’t deserve my help.I had to vihe an to leave; his life might be in dahe noble idiot's face twisted with arrogance as he issued his ands. "Guard, give the an thirty shes fetting shot and ahirty for deying my healing," he barked, his voice dripping with disdain.

  I stepped forward, anger simmerih my calm exterior. "I’m not healing you. You don't deserve it," I stated firmly, my eyes log onto his with unwavering resolve. Turning on my heel, I began to walk away.

  "Stop!" he anded, his voice rising in indignation. When I ignored him, he seethed with rage, his face reddening. "Guard, kill him!"

  The guard lu me, but I was ready. With a swift movement, I flipped him over, pinning him to the ground with my foot on his neck. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging through my veins. "If you value your life, ighat order," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I prefer healing over hurting, but I won't let you kill me." Stretch stood beside me, growling lowly, his eyes fixed on the guard.

  The guard nodded mutely, his eyes wide with fear and uanding.

  I went to the an, his face pale and trembling. "Do you know what the noble ordered?" I asked gently.

  He nodded, his voice shaking. "I 't leave. I owe Lord Mekan money. Until I pay him, I'm his *."

  "How much do you owe him?" I asked, g my voice.

  "Ten gold," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Summoning a g with a ruby, I held it out to him. "Is this worth ten gold?" I asked, my eyes searg his for any sign of hope.

  "I 't take it; I 't repay you," he stammered, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "A gift from a stranger," I said softly, pressing the ring into his hand. "Go pay him."

  "I 't accept *," he protested weakly, his eyes filling with tears.

  "Do you want the shes?" I asked, my voice ge firm.

  He shook his head, clutg the ring as if it were a lifeline. "No, I don't want the shes," he whispered, his eyes filled with gratitude and relief, ao speak to the noble. Meanwhile, I walked bato the wilderness, realizing I might not be as ready as I thought to rejoin society.