Accidental Healer

Back at camp, the waiting begins. There's nothing to do but kill time until the raid. I plan to do more scouting to see if I can find any monsters lurking around or discover more dungeons.

I wasn't convinced every threat was confined to dungeons just yet. For now, I started practicing the new sword forms in the clearing while Mischief lounged in the sun.

Even with all the knowledge burned into my mind, my sword forms are clumsy and awkward. But the slow, deliberate movements are grounding, and before I know it, time melts away. It's not until I see Mischief flick his ears and stand that I finally stopped.

Pulled from my forms, I rolled my shoulders and took a look around.

Has it been seven days already? That would be nice.

But no, the raid wasn't starting—it's something else.

In the trees across the clearing, a group of six people moved cautiously through my territory. All but two seemed to be armed. One, who looks no older than seventeen, is holding a large two-handed axe strapped to his back.

My instincts tighten. The memory of my last 'guest' has been on a loop in my head for three days.

"Mischief, hopefully they haven't seen you yet. For now, stay out of sight. Ok?"

He slunk off, vanishing like a shadow. I shivered slightly. For being so big he is dangerously stealthy.

The group continues across the clearing, and I walk out to meet them. The man without a weapon gestures for his party to stay. His ragged clothes are filthy. Dirt and dust every inch of his blue jeans and black Carhartt hoodie. His Mariner's baseball cap is bent, and shades his weather worn face.

This is a working man. Someone familiar with long hours of using his hands.

I swallow hard and try to ignore the sweat on my palms.

It's not like I feel threatened. I just really wanted this to go better.

"Hello, travelers. What brings you to my humble camp?" The second it's out, I cringed. Hello, travelers? Really?

The older man, probably in his forties, waves back. "Hi there, I hope that I'm not interrupting anything." His eyes flick to my right hand.

I glanced at where he was looking and I'm surprised to see I'd totally forgotten that I was still holding my sword.

"Oh, no. Definitely not interrupting, I needed a break." My cheeks flush red and I shrug the sheath of my shoulder and slide the sword home.

"I'm Layton by the way."

The strangers shoulders relax a little now that my sword is stowed away. "Jared." He says pointing at his chest. "We didn't mean to sneak up on you. It's just we saw your fire and hoped you might be able to help us."

I took a look at the rest of his group waiting patiently a little ways off. They looked like a bunch of hobo's. If I had a mirror I doubt I looked any better.

"You saw my fire?" I wasn't sure about distances but I somehow doubted that they could've spotted my fire unless they were already in my territory.

Jared seemed to get the point. "Yes well—the truth is we stumbled onto your territory by accident."

Fair enough. But why weren't they in their own territory to begin with? I waited for more of an explanation.

"We've been a bit down on our luck. I got a notification when we crossed into your border about it being claimed by someone else. That's when Nick over there saw your fire and we decided to check it out." He pointed at a man close to my age, with a bow over his shoulder.

Part of me was annoyed by this whole song and dance. Growing up watching movies and reading about the apocalypse people became so cautious. I'd always thought I'd never act like that, people are still people.

That was before I met Richard. Was I going to let one bad apple change my outlook on humanity though?

"Dang. What happened?"

Jared rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a bit of a story. I'm happy to share it, of course, but maybe we wait for the rest of the people in your territory? Save me telling it twice."

Wait. Had they seen Mischief? Or was this the salesman asking who the homeowner was? Yeah, he was digging. Now was my chance to decide who I would be.

Did I want to be the kind of guy who was always second guessing someone's angle? Or was I going to choose to trust?

"Jared, it's just me and my friend. There isn't anyone else in the territory."

People might change, the jury was still out, but as far as I was concerned I wanted to hold onto my humanity.

"Just you and your friend?" Jared frowns, eyes narrowing. "How did you clear all the dungeons?"

I shrugged. "Finding them was a pain, but they weren't so bad. We even managed a couple of perfect runs."

Jared's frown deepens. "I'm sorry, but you're saying that you cleared all three dungeons and the trial dungeon with just you and your friend?"

I nod. "Yeah, but like I said, it took a while to find them."

Jared hesitates. "And… a perfect run?"

"If you clear a dungeon without taking damage, you get an extra reward. We managed two out of three."

Jared's lips part, like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. Instead, his eyes flick to his group. What was he feeling?

Was he expecting me to be less forthcoming? Probably. Again, why did the apocalypse just mean that people couldn't be neighborly anymore?

Jared exhales slowly, rubbing his jaw. His gaze flickers over me, then back to his group. "Would you mind if we talked in private for a moment?"

I raised an eyebrow. Then just shrug. "Yeah of course."

Instead of standing hands in my pocket, I walk back to my fire.

With my enhanced senses, I could probably listen in if I wanted to. I decided against it. Privacy was important. After a few minutes of discussion, Jared approached me again, and I stand.

"Layton, would you briefly allow me to explain how we came to be in our predicament?" Jared asks.

I just nodded, and he explained how his group was formed, how they cleared their dungeons, and how they were led by a strong and capable fighter—Matt—who was later murdered by my old friend Richard.

"What you see out there—that's all we have left. The rest are craftsmen. We had no choice but to abandon our territory."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "The raids aren't a joke. We barely made it through—only because of Matt."

His voice tightened. "Even Richard was a capable fighter, and we still lost everything. We're running low on food with nowhere to go."

"Your friend seems strong. He must be if you handled your dungeons with just the two of you." Jared met my gaze.

"If we work together, we might have a shot. What do you say?"

Learning just how rotten Richard actually was felt validating. It also sort of helped explain his total mania.

"Jared, I appreciate you telling me all this. And I'm sorry for what your people have gone through."

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I paused before adding, "First thing you should know—Richard won't be a problem anymore."

His eyes shot up. That got his attention. "My friend took care of him. Four days ago, Richard tried to kill him. Then he came after me. It was self-defense."

I don't look away. "I have no regrets." A beat of silence. "Matt seems like he was a good guy. I'm sorry."

Jared ran a hand over his face. "Richard's dead?"

I can't tell if he's relieved or just exhausted. Probably both.

I let the truth sink in while I gave his people a closer look. They seem competent. Capable, even.

If they hadn't arrived it would've been just Mischief and myself. It's not like I don't appreciate the help. But together we made it this far. I wanted to see if we could take the raid, just the two of us.

"He's dead."

I shook my head. "And as far as the raid? Thank you, but no. I'd like to handle that on my own."

Jared recoiled a bit in surprise. "Layton, I'm certain if we combine strength, we have a great shot! We have nowhere else to go—I promise we won't be a burden."

Of course he would take it that way. He's worried I won't let him stick around.

"Wait, hold on. You don't have to leave," I say waving a hand. "It's just that I want to finish what I started with my friend."

Jared shook his head. "Layton, you don't understand what you are dealing with. Even with Matt, Richard and seven days to build up defenses we barely pulled through."

I shrugged. "I get why you're worried. But I think it will be ok."

Jared opens his mouth then closes it, then opens it again. "At least use our healer, I'm sure she'd be willing to help. I'd feel much better that way."

"It's ok, I'm in a healer class also." I thought revealing my class would help Jared feel better. But he seems more confused than ever.

"You must have a lot of confidence in your friend."

He might still have his doubts. I don't want to push my luck, but the longer I hold off introducing Mischief the worse it's going to be.

"Look, if you're going to stay, you should probably meet my friend first."

Jared still seemed tense. I get it—I'm not exactly rolling out the red carpet here.

He crossed his arms, thinking it over. "I suppose that would help put my mind at ease."

I smirked. Yeah, I doubt that.

"Just don't freak out, and know that he understands what you say but can't speak back. Do I have your word that you'll stay calm?"

"Is he dangerous?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. But he won't hurt you. You have my word." Jared narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, Mischief, you heard the man, but don't be creepy or anything. These people seem better than that last dick."

At my word Mischief stalked out of the trees. He's a true unit now, pushing 300 lbs. Jared stumbled backward, tripping over a rock and landing on his ass.

"You don't have to worry—he isn't going to hurt you. Right, Mischief?" Mischief shrugged and gave a slow nod of his massive head.

"Your friend is a giant cougar?!" Jared stammered.

"His name is Mischief, and I can honestly say I would have died without his help." I patted his back. "I trust Mischief with my life. If you can get on board with that and are okay with us fighting the raid, then you're welcome to stay."

Jared hesitated, looking back at his group. After a moment, he agreed. "I'll need to talk with my team before I can give you a definite answer. Is that okay?"

"Of course."

Jared jogs back to his people. I glance at Mischief. "What do you think? Do you trust this group?" Mischief gives a lazy shrug.

"Yeah, I like Jared a whole lot more than Richard. Still, no one can hold a candle to you, big guy." I pat Mischief's head, and he snorts before walking off to lie down.

Nearly an hour later, Jared returns. "We're grateful you're willing to let us stay, and we'd like to accept your offer. Under one condition: we want to prepare a contingency plan in case you can't repel the raid. We'd like to be ready with defenses."

"That's fair enough," I said, and reached out my hand.

Jared clasps my hand. It's a firm grip, steady. But I can still see it—doubt. He doesn't fully trust me.

And honestly? I'd be worried if he did.

-

Jared walked back to his group, mind racing.

Was this the right choice?

There was no doubt in his mind—Layton had only survived this long because of that monster. That mountain lion, that unnatural beast, could wipe out his entire group alone if it wanted. How Layton had managed to tame it, Jared had no idea. Maybe it had something to do with his healing? If they survived this raid, he'd press for more answers.

But the beast wasn't what confused him the most. Layton was.

He was utterly unremarkable—just a guy in a torn leather jacket, battered pants, and a casual attitude that didn't match the reality of this world. Maybe six feet tall, athletic but not exactly intimidating.

And yet…

Layton shouldn't be alive. Not without a team. Not with a healer's class. He should have died in the first raid, like so many others. And yet here he was—unscathed, unbothered, acting like this world hadn't chewed up and spit out everyone else.

Jared had seen survivors before. They were hardened, haunted. But Layton? He was casual. And that was what scared him the most. For the thousandth time Jared wished Matt was still alive.

"What did he say?" Alex asked as Jared got within earshot.

"He agreed to our conditions. That means we have work to do." Jared's voice was firm. "I want three towers and a safety bunker built. If things go south, we need a fallback plan. We can't afford any more losses." He turned to Alex. "Gather the others. We've got just over six days to prepare."

"Deja Vu." Alex huffed. But the group snapped into motion.

Elise glanced at the clearing, voice hesitant. "They're seriously going to do this? Just the two of them?"

She shook her head. "I don't get it. Are they crazy?"

Jared exhaled. "I don't know," he admitted. "The boy's a healer like you. That doesn't inspire much confidence."

His gaze drifted back to the clearing where Layton casually practiced his sword forms while the lion lounged in the sun.

Jared clenched his jaw. "But that thing? That mountain lion? It's a monster. I have no doubt it could kill all of us if it wanted."

Elise swallowed hard.

Jared shook his head, turning back to the fortifications. "Either way, we'll be ready."

-

For six days, Jared, and his people work non-stop.

Felling trees. Erecting spike fences. Building a crude palisade. Everything to prepare for the raid. They had done this all before.

And while they all worked? Layton did nothing but train. Mischief barely acknowledged their efforts.

Jared gritted his teeth, watching Layton move through his sword drills like the world wasn't about to collapse around him.

Was he really this naive?

His survival instincts screamed at him to confront Layton—to demand he take this seriously. On more than one occasion nearly did. He had to keep reminding himself it wasn't his place. They would learn the hard way. If things went south they would intervene.

The day of the raid arrived. The fortifications weren't perfect, but Jared was proud of them. They'd done everything they could. Unlike his new allies.

Then, the air shimmered. Jared's stomach dropped. "It's here, get into your positions!"

His archers climbed the towers, eyes locked on the clearing. Then, it came.

A rift in space, crackling with energy. Bigger than the one that had hit his own camp. Much bigger.

And then—they poured out. Jared's breath hitched. A hundred of them.

Towering, green-skinned brutes, built like living siege weapons. Weapons of bone and rusted steel. Savage. Primitive. Brutal.

Compared to the unassuming young man these monsters were giants. Jareds nails dug into the wood on the tower he watched from. "If they go down, we move in. We can't afford to lose this land."

Jareds annoyance boiled as he looked down at the child and his cat. He will run, he knows better than to face these odds.

But then—Layton stepped towards the monsters…and waved?

Layton was shouting something. Jared couldn't make the words out from his tower. Layton was waving his arms in some kind of mocking gestures.

Jared blinked. "What the hell is he—?"

The biggest of the raiders stepped forward, roaring in response.

Layton glanced at Mischief. The massive feline shook its head.

And then—Layton's shoulders dropped. The grin faded. His fingers tightened around the sword.
Jared felt the air shift. The hairs on his neck stood.

Layton vanished.

One second, he was standing still. The next—the world exploded.

A shockwave ripped through the battlefield, dust and debris spiraling outward. The first rank of raiders never even got the chance to react.

Layton's sword cut through the orcs in a single, devastating arc—Fifteen bodies collapsed, bisected.

Jared froze. Breath catching. What the hell was he watching? Layton was a blur swiping cleaving, moving through the orcs like a storm.

The battle should've started—instead, it was already over. Layton and Mischief carved through the horde like reapers.

A flurry of motion. A dance of slaughter. Layton moved too fast. Each swing precision and brutality.

The orcs never even had a chance. One of the ranged raiders fired an arrow—a perfect shot.

Jared flinched. Layton wasn't even looking—It didn't hit. Didn't deflect. It just stopped.

He gripped the edge of his tower. This isn't possible.

His own people fought tooth and nail for survival. Even Matt had struggled.

Matt.

Matt, who they'd believed was their best hope.
Matt, who they'd thought no one could replace.

But this wasn't hope. This was certainty. Layton wasn't a healer. He wasn't just strong.

He was something else entirely. He was a damn monster.

Jared's hands trembled as he watched Layton rip through the final orc, standing untouched amid the carnage. The unassuming boy was gone.

It was in this moment, where the world stood still, he knew. Jared was staring at a giant.