NOVEL NEXT Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen: Myia
Terry's body protested every breath as he leaned against the jagged stone wall of the crumbling outpost. Despite the victory over Clover Tuch, his battered frame told a different story. His mind raced with the memory of the battle, from the demon's taunting grin to the agonizing wounds it inflicted.
Soden knelt beside him, carefully inspecting the gashes along Terry's arms and chest. "You're lucky you're alive," he muttered, his tone a blend of irritation and concern.
Terry forced a weak grin. "Luck? I like to think skill had something to do with it."
"Skill didn't stop you from looking like minced meat," Soden retorted, crossing his arms. "You need more than your system's passive healing for this. I called in help."
Terry's brow furrowed. "What kind of help?"
"She's a healer," Soden replied. "Myia. Works under one of the elves. I figured you wouldn't mind since you're not exactly in a position to argue."
"An elf healer?" Terry asked skeptically. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Just don't scare her off," Soden said, standing. "She'll be here soon."
---
It didn't take much time after Soden said that for Terry to get a sensation of outsider in the midst of them . He sat alone in his room as he still thought about how far he had come .
The outpost's heavy wooden door creaked open, and soft, deliberate footsteps echoed through the space. Terry looked up, his vision clearing enough to focus on the slender figure entering the room.
Myia was striking in a way that made Terry momentarily forget the pain. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, shimmering faintly in the firelight. Her emerald robes clung elegantly to her petite frame, and her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with an otherworldly calmness.
She glanced at Terry, her gaze sharp but kind. "You must be Terry," she said, her voice smooth and melodic.
"And you must be the miracle worker," Terry replied, attempting to sit up straighter but wincing in pain.
"Stay still," Myia said firmly, moving to kneel beside him. Her hands glowed with a faint golden light as she hovered them over his wounds. "You've been through quite the ordeal."
"Just a typical day for me," Terry quipped, though his voice lacked its usual bravado.
As Myia's magic flowed through him, Terry felt a soothing warmth spread across his body. The pain dulled, and his breathing steadied. He watched in awe as the deep gashes on his arms began to close, the torn skin knitting together as if the wounds had never existed.
"Impressive," Terry muttered, flexing his fingers.
Myia stood, brushing her hands against her robes. "You'll live, but don't get overconfident. Healing magic restores the body, but the mind and spirit take longer to recover."
"Noted," Terry said, giving her a nod of gratitude.
---
Over the next few days, Myia returned regularly to check on Terry's recovery. Each visit was accompanied by her calm demeanor and efficient work, which earned her a grudging respect from Terry.
One evening, as the fire crackled softly, Terry found himself alone with Myia. He leaned against a wooden post, feeling stronger but still cautious.
"So, Myia," Terry began, watching her as she prepared her healing supplies. "Why work for an elf? Seems like a tough gig."
Myia paused, her expression thoughtful. "Lady Elenara is... unconventional, but she's taught me much. I owe her my skills and my purpose."
"And that purpose is?"
"To heal," Myia said simply. "To mend what others destroy. There's enough pain in this world without adding to it."
Terry nodded, her words resonating more than he expected. "Sounds noble."
"And you?" Myia asked, her gaze piercing. "Why do you fight?"
Terry hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I fight because I have to. Because if I don't, I will suffer great consequences."
Myia studied him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "A heavy burden for one person."
"Someone's got to carry it," Terry said, his voice firm.
" But even then , you don't have to push yourself to hard . No suffering is worse than that if the heart." Myia said and Terry gave her a thoughtful look .
She was right but he knew more than this. The Elf Lord System was his most precious key to freedom and no matter what anyone said or did , he will fight to the grandest stage of them all
---
Meanwhile, Curl and Soden observed the growing dynamic between Terry and Myia from a distance. Curl crossed her arms, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"She's spending a lot of time with him," Curl said, her tone clipped. She was a bit annoyed at it.
"She's a healer," Soden replied, shrugging. "It's her job. Are you into him ?"
Curl shook her head. "It's more than that. Look at him. He's opening up to her and I am not into him.
" Yeah.. yeah, I know but it it isn't a bad thing they are doung ?" Soden asked.
Curl's eyes narrowed. "We don't have time for distractions. Terry needs to focus on our mission, not... whatever this is."
"Maybe she's helping him focus," Soden countered. "Not everyone's as closed off as you, Curl."
Curl shot him a glare but didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the firelight flickering between Terry and Myia. In her own subconscious she knew she liked him but she had kept a clean reputation to see that males were all the same . She made sure she related with everyone within limits .
---
Later that night, Terry lay awake, his systems buzzing with notifications. He opened his status menu, scanning the updates with growing interest.
---
[SLAVE SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
**Status Update: Recovery Complete. All Stats Restored.**
**Slave System: Level 18**
[ELF LORD SYSTEM]
**New Subtask Available.**
---
Terry dismissed the notifications for now, his thoughts returning to Myia. There was something about her—her calm presence, her quiet strength—that unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain.
"She's different," he muttered to himself. "But why does that matter to me?"
Shaking his head, Terry resolved to focus on the battles ahead. But deep down, he knew Myia had left an impression on him—one that he couldn't ignore.
---
The next morning, Myia approached Terry as he prepared to test his regained strength.
"You're pushing yourself too soon," she said, her tone firm but not unkind.
"I need to be ready," Terry replied, tightening the straps on his armor.
"Ready for what? Another battle that leaves you half-dead?"
Terry smirked. "You're starting to sound like Soden."
Myia crossed her arms, her expression serious. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Terry. Your strength isn't just in your ability to fight."
"Then what is it in?" Terry asked, genuinely curious.
Myia hesitated, then said softly, "In your ability to endure. To keep going, no matter what."
Her words struck a chord in Terry, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he nodded and said, "Thanks for the advice."
---
As days turned into weeks, Terry's interactions with Myia became more frequent and more personal. She seemed to see through his defenses, challenging him in ways that few others could.
Soden noticed the change, though he said nothing. Curl, on the other hand, grew increasingly wary, her suspicion evident in her sharp glances and curt remarks.
But Terry paid little attention to Curl's disapproval. For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of calm—a fleeting moment of peace amid the chaos of his life.