A Strongest Warrior Of All Time

In the past no one was ready to heal anyone because it was disadvantageous for them. But suddenly then the story took a turn for a moment. When John forgets about the secret room and all these things.

Lord Eric, chieftain of the warrior-bred clan, stood outside the balcony with one hand on the hilt of his sword. The scars on his forearm glinted dully in the moon—old reminders of a hundred battles won for his clan. But there was one scar, carved deep across his chest, that still ached whenever the night turned bitter.

Eric's eyes chilled. That scar should have killed him years ago. It was not men's medicine, nor the work of any warrior, that had saved him. It was Elsa's father—a healer who worked magic that was forbidden to men. The recollection of that moment stayed in Eric's heart like a holy whisper, and ever since then he had guarded Elsa, the healer's daughter, as if she were of his own blood.

And now, with the passing years, there was one final consideration. His son, John, was destined to be the king of their people. He had inherited the strength of their warrior blood and was already talked of as the young lord of the palace. And Elsa, a child of magic, a precious rarity—gentle, yet strong, and noble.

"Together," Eric breathed to the darkness, "they could change the fate of this land."

The gigantic doors of the hall groaned as John stepped inside, his body tense, his tunic worn and frayed at the edges. He was only eleven, yet he walked like a soldier, his eyes darkened by experience beyond his years.

"Father," he bent quickly, though his voice was laced with caution.

Eric gazed at him keenly. Under the boy's sleeve, pale red lines were visible—fresh wounds poorly hidden.

"You fought once more," Eric's voice echoed in the room.

John was not sure, and then his fists clenched. "The animals of the jungle did not give me a choice."

For a moment, a silence surrounded the hall. Then, as if opening a dam, John's mind swept him back into battle.

He remembered the scent of the jungle—heavy air, damp ground, and the soft crackle of leaves under covert feet. The monster stepped from the fog like a nightmare. Its form was covered by scales darker than darkness, its eyes burning with red light. Ash and foul meat reeked from its maw as it gave a roar.

John had wielded his sword this way and that, sparks flying as metal clanged against scale. Each strike sent the shudders up his arms. His breath burned in his chest, and sweat blurred his eyes. Finally, with one wild lunge, he hit a vulnerable spot near its neck, and the creature crashed dead with a dying yelp.

But at what cost was the victory? His side was torn by claws, his arm gashed by fangs. He limped back to the village, covering his pain behind pride. But here, in the hall, those wounds burned still, raw and deep.

Eric moved closer, his eyes on the scars. "Scars," he stated firmly, "are badges of honor. But unfettered scars can ruin body and soul as well."

John tried to talk, but Eric raised a hand.

"Do you know why you live today, John?" Eric's voice softened. "Because once when I was shattered, it was Elsa's father who healed me. His light closed wounds no blade could mend. His gift spared this lord, and for the debt, I honor his blood."

John's forehead furrowed. Elsa's name evoked the old comfort, but nothing else. To him, she was a childhood friend—a kind one, a bit of a wallflower, always smiling. He could not picture her as anything else.

Eric, however, caught a glimpse of another world. He put a firm hand on John's shoulder. "One day, when you are a man, I want you and Elsa to stand beside each other. Not only as friends, but also as bond-bearers. She is not only a healer. She is a princess of rare blood. With you, the lord of fighters, and her, the child of magic, our people will thrive."

John stood still. His lips parted to say no, but nothing came out.

The next morning, when morning poured gold into the palace hall, Elsa emerged. She was wearing a robe of pale blue that shone like mist at dawn, her golden hair loose down her back. She was still only eleven, yet a strange aura clung to her—a gentleness that froze the very air.

She carried a small satchel, the contents of which were herbs and stones covered in runes. But John could tell it was not these that gave her power—it was the light in her eyes, the pride that was not born of arrogance but of purpose.

"Lord Eric," she said softly, bowing with poise beyond her years.

Eric nodded. "Elsa, my son has been injured. I would put his healing in your hands."

Her gaze shifted to John. He shifted uncomfortably, uncertain, but could not prevent the small amount of relief that flared inside him.

They entered a room draped in silken curtains. Candles lit in rings on the floor illuminated the room with warm light. Elsa asked John to feel free to sit.

She set her hands upon him, voice soothing though her cheeks flamed with fear. "This will hurt for a bit. But trust me."

John tried to speak, but when her palms neared his chest, heat flooded him. It was akin to fire and water meeting—heat and cold churned together in harmony.

Her cloak, runes embroidered within it, shimmered. Tendrils of light overflowed from it, wrapping John in webs of silver flame. He gasped as the energy seeped through his skin.

The pain in his side seared—sharp, painful. But it lessened, then slowly numbed and dissolved. The ripped flesh mended before his very eyes. The gashes on his arm disappeared into nothing. Even the slash across his shoulder, carved deep by the beast's tooth, smoothed into unmarred skin.

John's heart thudded. This was no illusion. This was magic conquering death itself.

Elsa's breathing grew strained, forehead wet with perspiration. But she forced on, whispering incantations. Her fingers seared more fiercely until, with a soft exhalation, the light faltered and the room was quiet.

When John looked down, his body was whole. No blood. No scars. Only memory.

He looked up at her, words trapped in his throat. "Elsa… how…?"

She smiled faintly, but exhaustion furrowed her brow. "Because that is what I was born to do. To heal, so others may stand again."

Eric, who had remained silent until now, now spoke with pride. "Do you see, John? Do you get it? With powers like hers on your side, no battle will ever take your spirit."

John swallowed hard. Part of him fought against it, wanted to disbelieve it, to chase away the thought of destiny placed upon him. Elsa was only a friend. And yet, as he touched the smoothness of his once-broken skin, he could sense the truth. She was not ordinary. She carried a light that could repel even the darkest shadows.

That night, as the palace grew quiet, Eric stared at the stars. His wounds still sparkled with a warm glow, but hope filled him. He longed to see the day when his son and Elsa would walk alongside him—warrior and healer, lord and princess.

In his bed, John lay awake, staring at where his wounds used to be. He could still feel the warmth of Elsa's magic still lingering, as if a secret flame had been left burning within him.

He clenched his fist. I am a warrior. She is a friend. But still…

The moon was high, shrouding the palace in silver. What lay ahead was unsure, but one thing had already been penned—when Elsa's light and John's strength merged, the world itself would tremble.

But he is also curious about his only friend, Luther. He wants to tell him everything, but he is confused about Elsa; he doesn't know if he shouldLuther about Elsa or not. Because he told him in the past that he doesn't have a friend. So he thinks that if Luther becomes angry at him after knowing about Elsa, it will be because he was hiding her from him.

So after this he decided that he will tell him about Elsa some time later, but he has the knowledge and things he knows about clans, symbols, dragons, breath powers, and also other things he will tell Luther about.

At that time, in John's mind, he felt a soft corner for Elsa. He never imagined that Elsa would do this thing for him by taking the risk of his own powers. He knows that Elsa's aim was to be a great magician from his family, but she healed him with no cost or charge.

He understood how good-hearted girl Elsa was. He didn't feel so deep for her in the before times of his life.

But suddenly..