A Doctor Without Borders [Healer | Slow-Burn | Medical Fantasy]

With my attention on the skill and the blade, I had missed Esper's approach. She leaned closer to examine the knife. "That's it?"

I shrugged. "I think so. A bit anticlimactic."

"Do you notice anything different with the blade?"

I took a moment to take the measure of the blade with my senses and found nothing too abnormal. The blade's surface did feel surprisingly uniform…

I sighed. "Crap. I didn't assess the blade beforehand." I tried reactivating the skill again, but this time, I couldn't push even a trickle of Energy into it. The blade drew nothing from me. "Everything seems fine. It just isn't able to accept the skill again."

"Did you remove the blade's Spark?"

"I…I don't think so." The wood could still channel my Energy. "Let me see." I coated the blade with crimson Energy. Energy moved easily, perhaps even more efficiently. "That seems to work. Maybe I can't use the skill because I already sterilized it?"

She frowned. "Perhaps, but the Spark still exists in that blade. Your skill must just affect the surface, or at least, your intent made it act in that manner. I would urge caution with the skill. Do not use it on anything valuable until you understand its effects."

Good advice, and I didn't have to wait to follow it. I had options now to determine the effects of [Sterilize]. "Here. Let me try something."

I squatted down and rubbed the knife's blade in the dirt. After fully coating my blade with dirt, I held it up. A fine layer of dry soil obscured some of the delicate texture of the wood grains.

She squatted down beside me. "What are you doing?"

"Experimenting."

She gave me a quizzical look before speaking the next words slowly and deliberately. "Ex-peri-ment-ing."

I frowned, softly repeating the word to confirm it existed in Common. "Experimenting. So, this isn't a translation issue."

"I hear it, but I don't understand it. The closest I get in my tongue is repeating with intention."

"That is a surprisingly good translation." I rocked back on my heels. "Essentially, experimenting is a rigorous repetition of a task to prove a hypothesis or conjecture."

She gestured to the knife. "And covering your knife in dirt is an experiment?" The word came much more smoothly this time. "It seems like you're just trying something. Why does it get a special label?"

I let out a sad huff. "Honestly, this barely counts as an experiment, but the concept is powerful. Imagine... Imagine a [Hunter] wants to make a better arrow."

"Why would she want to do that? She already knows what works."

Was she deliberately being difficult?

"Look, work with me here. At some point, someone ran into some new materials that might work for an arrow. If they were curious, they would have to try them out to see if they worked better. Say, different wood for shafts or feathers for fletching. I am sure they could tell you after shooting them a few times if they were superior to the old design." She gave me a reluctant nod. "Well, that is a natural experiment. People do it all the time. The key is the addition of the scientific"—really, they have experiments but not the scientific method?—I sighed. "Call it the addition of a rigid framework for testing."

"That seems like a lot of work."

I laughed. "It is, but I would call it essential. Look, let's bring this back home. If I were going to try a new potion, how would I know if it was effective?"

She snorted. "My skill lets me know."

My train of thought jerked to a stop, the complex example of trying different doses on animals, then humans dying on the tip of my tongue. "Your skill does that? Even before you give it to them?"

"Of course. It gives me a general idea."

My eyes narrowed. "Just how good an idea?"

"Enough to know it will heal."

Skills—shortcuts that break every rule I know.

I looked up toward the sky and counted to five. "I bet we would have a different view on rigor, but this isn't the time or the place." I rotated the knife to have the flat edge face upward. "This is technically an experiment because I have an idea of how [Sterilize] works, and my next action will test my belief."

I focused my attention on the blade. Like before, I picked up the blade's slight tug on my Energy.

Okay. Not dead.

Then I activated [Sterilize] but held off on putting any more Energy into it. The knife didn't glow with light, but the skill wasn't completely idle. The skill "pinged." Subtle zaps, not unpleasant, burst from my fingertips, and when they disappeared, a fleeting, metallic taste, just on the edge of my perception, filled the back of my mouth.

A sensory component or a hallucination?

However, each recurrent ping returned the same taste. I trickled more Energy into the skill, and the pings strengthened, but only to a point. They plateaued, giving way to a familiar pull on my Energy. My forehead cooled as my Marks came alive, and Energy streamed from them. A soft electric shock rolled down my neck and arm—like a Lhermitte's sign that persisted. Thin streams of Energy from other parts of my body joined. It all coalesced in my fingers, which tingled as the Energy built. The taste of metal grew sharper, stronger. Then, as before, azure light spread across the blade and disappeared in a gentle flash, taking everything—the paresthesias, the taste, the coolness—with it.

"Did it work?" Esper asked. "The knife doesn't look all that different."

I frowned. She was right. It still had a light film of dirt. "I'm not sure. Let me…" I activated the skill again. This time, the skill pinged once. Nothing returned. When I tried to push in more Energy, the skill actively refused. "I think it worked. Just because it's dirty doesn't mean there's anything living in it."

Her eyes narrowed, and I shrugged. "What? It's true. You can sterilize dirt." I rocked my head back and forth. "But I get your point. This certainly doesn't look clean. Let me try something else."

I pulled out my waterskin and dribbled water over it until most of the dirt on one side was gone. I refocused on my skill. A ping returned a hint of something at the edge of my perception, but I couldn't localize it to either side.

False positive? Contamination from the water, the air, or maybe even the wood itself?

I just didn't know enough about how these skills work. I could make so much headway with some basic experiments. I wouldn't need anything more than the tools found in a high school science lab. I'd just inoculate some agar plates with tools exposed to my skill and wait a few days. I could at least put some numbers to these skills. Of course, I have a way to test for changes quickly…

I grabbed my potion and popped the top. Esper's fingers twitched toward the blade. "What are you doing?"

I hesitated before pouring some on the blade. "It's just a drop. I'm not going to waste it."

I called up [Enhance Medicinal]. It stood ready to work on the potion, but that wasn't my target. I tried to force it onto the knife—with, as expected, no impact. I held my breath as I approached the moment of truth. I dripped potion on both sides, not letting any of the potion spill over to the other side. I waited, cycled through them again and again, with no result.

Then an echo followed [Sterilize]'s ping. I tried again, also getting a vague suggestion of something foul. But was it more intense?

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I grumbled mentally. Gut feelings didn't amount to any more than that.

Esper leaned in, but I ignored her, instead cycling [Sense Injury] and [Sterilize]. Nothing came at first, but after about a minute, [Sterilize]'s ping returned something beyond a possible figment of my imagination. I checked it three times. Each time, [Sense Injury] produced nothing, but [Sterilize] generated a response on just one side—the one cleaned with water.

Now for the coup de grâce.

I brought my fingers within range of the potion, and without touching it, I used [Enhance Medicinal]. My face split into a large grin as a swarm of echoes sprang from the ping only on the side of the blade cleaned with water. That smile faltered when a strong metallic taste exploded in the back of my mouth, almost making me gag. Then, my smile vanished.

Echoes began to reverberate from both sides of the blade.

But I had sterilized it.

Contamination from the potion? No. That didn't make sense. Just when I—

"Daniel, do you care to explain what you are doing?"

"Huh. Just a moment."

Should I try with a sterilized potion? No. Can't risk. The blade? That I could do. [Sterilize] had only worked on the surface. I just needed a thin layer of sterilized material. That shouldn't have any deleterious effects.

I retried [Sense Injury]. Nothing. I reactivated [Sterilize]. As I fed it Energy, the blue light extended from my fingers to coat the blade's surface—a manner of decontamination in line with my view of sterilizing a tool. However, it had to go deeper. I pushed the skill, focusing on sterilizing not just the surface layer but the millimeters below. A slight pressure spread across my forehead.

Resistance.

I didn't relent. My forehead grew cold as I activated the skill. The cycle started. Echoes. Iron. Tingling—but now it crawled up from my fingers to my hand. As the flow of Energy increased, metallic shifted to a light tang—a bite into lemon or a swig of apple cider vinegar—with only a hint of an iron aftertaste.

The Energy needed to pull this off... It would tax me, but I could do it. I took a deep breath and—

A green hand slapped the blade out of my hand. It hit the ground, bouncing once, then twice before settling in the dirt—the non-sterilized dirt.

"Hey, what did you do that for?"

She gave me a cross expression. "What did I just say about being careful with valuable things until you had further practice?"

"It is just a simple blade."

"Yes, but only a fool goes into the Wilds without a weapon."

I had to think about that for a second. "Oh…that was—"

"Foolish. Unlike you, I carry a spare. But first, did you kill the blade?"

I picked it up, pushing Energy into it. It flowed, creating a brilliant crimson edge. I retracted my Energy, and the blade returned to dull, dirt-covered wood. "It seems to work. I hadn't actually released the skill."

"How much effort did it take?"

I shrugged. "Not much?"

She clicked her tongue. "Just give me that." She grabbed the blade of the knife and ripped it from my hand.

"Your hand!"

She furrowed her brow. "What about my hand?"

"How did you not cut… Never mind."

I still couldn't wrap my head around knives with toggleable sharpness.

She shook her head at me but didn't move her focus from the blade. Over the next minute, the knife's edge flared with different intensities of red light. At some point, the results satisfied her, and she looked up. "A Spark definitely remains. While I can't detect any issues with its acceptance of Energy, I am not a [Crafter]. Again, you will want to be careful until you have your skill's impact checked."

I sighed. I flipped the blade in my hands. "Right. That does complicate things. But I can work with that. I'm pretty sure I was close to having it nailed down. It looked good until the end. I just need to confirm where the microorganisms came from. It'll probably just take a few tweaks, but—"

"Mi…cro…or…gan…ism?"

My eyes widened. Crap.

"It's nothing."

She pointed a finger at me. "Do not lie to me. You know more than you're letting on."

That was an understatement.

My eyes slipped away from her piercing gaze. Smallpox. Anthrax. Ricin. My history is littered with the dangers of knowledge. But then again, how many could they help?

"It's complicated."

"Then explain it. I've done enough of that for you."

A comment on the dangers rested on my lips, but that would just prime her in the negative direction. I couldn't lie to her face, not when trying to build trust.

I let out a long breath. In for a penny, in for a pound.

I pointed to the blade. "Microorganisms—you know, it's strange which words translate and which don't. Anyway, they are an important idea where I'm from. They are tiny little creatures too small to see with the naked eye. They live everywhere, and some of them can make a home in a wound and cause festering, which I would refer to as a sign of an infection."

Her brow scrunched. "So small I can't see them? Are they some type of plant or animal?"

"Neither. They are their own thing."

"Do they have a Spark?"

"I…don't know." I looked up to the sky, rolling around ideas. Everything I had seen in this world had Marks. If I applied a modern biological framework to them, Marks were probably a specialized organ. Still, that was a leap. "I should have asked this earlier, but what's the link between a thing's essence and Spark?"

"To some degree, it is a mystery. When something dies, the Spark fades quickly, but its essence persists, at least for some time. People have different beliefs, but I am partial to my mother's." She took a deep breath, as if calling up the memory of her mother's words. "Essence is the words of a song, and the Spark is how they are sung. Some voices are beautiful—they can bring you to tears or give you courage when times are dark, some falter—never resonating with you or the Mother."

A sad smile flitted across her lips when she finished. Though it tugged at my heart, I couldn't bring myself to pry. "That's…quite beautiful."

"I've always thought so, but it is also sad."

"And why's that?"

"Not all voices are beautiful. Some have a gift, and some don't."

The corner of my mouth pulled sideways. "Is that your way of saying why some people reach the highest tiers and some don't?" She gave me a slight nod. "Huh. That does seem unfair."

"The Mother isn't—"

"Yeah, I know. Life isn't fair. Can you improve your 'voice'?" She shrugged. "How about at least changing the words?"

"I think yes, but that's debated. I believe we shape our skills as much as they shape us. But the beast and plant? No. As any [Hunter] will tell you, their powers—their equivalent of skills—are set."

"That is quite the advantage we have."

"We need it."

I rolled the knife in my hands while trying to fit her analogy into a biological framework. Was essence a type of DNA for magic?

"Can you find essence in every part of a creature?"

"Yes. The words are everywhere, but the voice is loudest at the Marks and markings."

"Huh."

She frowned. "Is there more you aren't telling me?"

I shook my head. "No. This is all new to me, but I think it's important.

"Okay," she said slowly. "How does this matter for these micro…organ…isms?"

"I can't say for sure, but I think microorganisms do contain a Spark—you nailed the word, by the way."

My praise didn't register. "Then why can't I sense them?"

"You can sense life?"

She looked away, quickly. Had she let that slip? I shrugged. "When I said they were small, I meant really, really small." I presented a finger. "Even just the tip would have countless numbers on it."

"That's impossible."

"Is it? I could prove it if we had a microscope." I sighed. "Which sounds like it doesn't exist here either." I tried another tack. "Have you noticed that washing hands decreases festering?"

"Washing hands? Why would that matter?"

"Because if you touch…" Nope. That wouldn't work. They didn't touch the wounds. Why would they? They could heal at range. Touch only mattered for those with appalling Projections. "How about cleaning the wound?"

She paused to think about that. "In some cases, yes. Dirty wounds do take more Energy to heal."

"Have you ever wondered why?"

"Every [Healer] has, but the answer is already known. Washing the wound removes elements that might interfere with skills." I cocked my head, making her sigh in exasperation. I couldn't help but smirk at the irony, but she ignored it and continued. "Skills are a gift from the Mother. She has granted our bodies an efficient way of affecting the world by converting her lifeblood—Aether—into actions that exceed normal limits. We can do many things without skill, but it will always be weaker and far more taxing. Trying to match a skill's effect without one requires levels of Aether that lead to toxicity.

"But not all skills are the same. Some skills are better at projecting—affecting things at a distance—and others are more efficient. However, as a general rule, the farther your target is away from you, the more Energy it takes. Another rule: affecting living things always takes more Energy than nonliving things. They have a Spark that must be overcome."

"So you guys believe there are living things—things with a Spark—in the soil."

She clicked her tongue. "Let me finish. I didn't say nonliving things take no Energy. I just said they require less than things with a Spark. Healing is complex and requires a strong understanding of the body. Push in the wrong ways, and the body will resist or worsen. Dirty wounds have elements that disrupt our skills." She waved her hand to showcase the surrounding area. "The Mother gifted us power, but she also limits us. Those more attuned with her can push these lines further, but it is always to a point. Is it any surprise that bits of her in a wound would limit our skill?"

"Okay…but then how would you explain why a potion accelerates festering?"

"The same elements interfere with the potion's intent. At their core, all potions are a combination of an essence that desires to regenerate and a power source—Aether. High-grade potions have stronger essences that can overcome the impurities, thus limiting festering."

"So if I understand you correctly, festering occurs because the potion's work gets…?"

"Corrupted. That's why high-grade potions are so valued. They work well in more circumstances; impurities won't corrupt their intent. Of course, stronger essences need more Aether, both of which are harder to acquire, making high-grade potions scarcer and more valuable. So, why use them when we have our skills that cost nothing?"

"Nothing besides some strain on the body." She just rolled her eyes. "Emergencies, then?"

"Yes, that is their most common use. They also tend to work better because—"

"The wounds are less dirty."

She nodded.

My gaze drifted back to my knife. I flipped it in my hand, chewing on her words. Could I be wrong? I knew what I had sensed. Something besides my patient's body had responded to the potion. Only microbes made sense.

"While I am not going to say you are wrong, I think the microorganisms play a far larger role."

She looked at her hands and then eyed me critically. "These invisible creatures are everywhere, on everything?"

"Yeah, but most aren't harmful."

"I find this all hard—"

She stopped when another voice called out. "Sister, you are late."