Lifestealer: Cursed Healer [A LITRPG Isekai Survival]

Entisse sighed contentedly, her whole body releasing a tension Symon hadn't known it was holding. Consuming the core seemed to both relax and excite her, like a warm cup of coffee on a cold day.

"The mana… what does it feel like?" Symon asked.

She smiled, though it seemed a little sad. "It is a grave thing, that you are unable to glimpse it. It is like… an unknowable song. Too beautiful for a mortal to truly comprehend, though we can add our voices to it and guide it for but a moment."

Symon blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "Wow. It, uh, sounds nice."

"Yes. It is nice." She breathed out slowly, her gaze drifting down to the ground. "You are a lifebringer and taker, though. How does it feel to touch on our very essence?"

Symon walked over to the nearby collapsed shed and picked up the shovel that had been leaning against the doorframe. "It's nice too," he said once he returned with the implement, shrugging his pack off and leaving it on the path as he went. "Sometimes, it's a little too nice. It doesn't make me feel connected to something greater, though. It's the opposite, like I'm… above everything. Untouchable, with no consequences. Not even a scar. I'm worried that I'll start believing it, then someone will hit me in the head with a rock and splatter my brains out on the ground."

"That would not be good."

He chuckled darkly. "No, it wouldn't." He stabbed the shovel into the ground, the blade biting deep into dirt and pollen. He levered the tool, lifting a rose and a large clump of earth out of the ground before gently setting it to the side, undamaged. When his thread slithered towards it, he redirected it to one of the furthest roses. With his vessel already full, he'd have time to dig the grave before killing all of them as long as he was fast.

"That's why I want to do this," he continued. "Remind myself that this isn't a game. That my actions could have deadly consequences. This was a person," he said, gesturing to the body at his side, "and I killed him. It was a mercy, and I'd do it again, but if I'm not careful with my magic, maybe it could be someone who didn't deserve it getting buried. Maybe it could be me."

When he'd first woken up in the desert, he'd thought it had been some type of cosmic joke. Of course the start to his new life would be in a monstrous centipede-infested desert, it would be just his luck, right? But over time, he'd come to understand it could have been a lot worse. Out there, he'd been able to come to terms with his new abilities, to use them on monsters and understand how they worked. By the time he reached Brackstead, or even earlier, when he'd met the Dumosans, he already had workarounds for his curse.

What if he'd been reincarnated inside a city? Hell, what if he'd come back as a baby and the first thing he did with his second life was kill a new mother?

In the grand scheme of things, waking up somewhere so isolated might have been a blessing in disguise.

Still, couldn't it have been on the beach next to Brackstead or something? Then it's the best of both worlds…

He sighed, the shovel biting deep into the soft soil as a shallow grave began to form. It was hard for him to see the benefits his higher stats were giving him when everything else was so much stronger, but he could appreciate them now. Even as an adult after his illness, he'd never been a 100% normal, healthy human. All the treatments as a child couldn't have been good for his long-term growth. Granted, it was certainly better than dying. Now, it was all in the past.

He imagined this was what a gymnast, or maybe a boxer, felt like. Powerful, but light on their feet. Aware of every muscle in their body, the entire system working together to perfectly achieve one singular goal. Even digging a grave felt good.

"You can go," he offered. "There's plenty of meat in my pack."

Entisse glanced longingly back at the pack before dragging her attention back to him with visible effort. "I will remain. I wish to observe this custom of yours."

Symon twisted and cracked his back, letting out a sigh of relief. The stats were nice, but they didn't completely erase the rigours of physical labour. It was worth it, though. He was sure the groundskeeper would appreciate being buried under his roses.

Entisse followed the motion with her head, though her eyes were locked on the haphazardly stacked pile of meat stacked on the dining table in front of her. Occasionally, she'd glance at Stitch suspiciously, as if the little bird was going to try and steal her food. He'd recalled his new pet and told him to go to sleep to conserve on vitality. When the little guy was inactive, he drew almost no vitality. He was assuming it would eventually require more after enough time just for maintenance, but so far his undead pet seemed to only need the vitality when it was up and active.

Thankfully, the decay hadn't progressed, his magic seeming to freeze it into one state. There was no way he would have let a rotting zombie at the dinner table; his grandmother would already be shaking her head disapprovingly at allowing even a living one up.

It wasn't such a bad little place to eat, especially compared to the wilds. There were no windows so deep into the manor, but night was almost completely fallen anyway. He had to make do with a flickering torch, but he'd gotten used to eating around a fire. Having four solid walls around him felt a little strange, actually.

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They were eating the emberwolf steaks again, though this time he had leftover flatbreads from lunch to wrap around cuts of the meat. Bless you, Atabek. The world needs more heroes like you.

"So," he started, "what was your home like?" He'd been imagining a dozen people living in a cave, but the numbers hadn't matched up. Plus, she'd mentioned her people wore metal armour they worked themselves, so they were hardly complete savages like the other elves allegedly were.

"Beautiful. This humanling village, how many live there?" she said, answering her question with one of her own.

"Two, maybe three hundred. Why?"

"Mine was bigger, though not by far, and only a third of our numbers had a class meant for combat," she continued. That seemed like a lot to Symon, considering Brackstead hadn't had a single one until the Baron's guards had shown up. "We lived in a massive cavern, taller and wider than you could possibly imagine. Our homes hung from the ceiling, protecting the young from the monsters far below. We were untouchable up there, or so we thought. When the humans came, they brought wind and earthshapers that struck our homes down. Most of us died from the fall, not even putting up a fight."

"I'm sorry," he said, putting down his food. "Were you up there when they were brought down?"

"No, I was hunting down below. When our home fell, I stalked through the ruins for many cycles, hunting down the invaders and honouring the dead," she delivered the line casually, as if she did this every week.

"And then what? How did you get caught?"

"Even I must sleep. When they realised they were being hunted, they began flattening the ruins with their magic, destroying our history just to prevent me from hiding. When I was forced into direct combat, I discovered they had upper Second Steps. I thought myself dead, but I woke up on their creation that floats across the water." She went back to eating her food as if she hadn't just talked about the mass murder of her people.

"Odd," he said, poking at the steak on his plate. "Why kill everyone else but keep you alive?"

She shrugged before tearing off another piece of meat with her bare hands. "They did not deign to share that information with me, not that I could understand their flapping mouths. I do not understand why they remained after the initial slaughter either, though they seemed to be looking for something." The red juices tracing down her chin paused right before dripping off, then reversed direction and started heading back to her mouth. She licked her lips both in anticipation and when the bloody juices reached her mouth.

Symon rolled his eyes as he stroked his chin in contemplation, feeling the slight stubble built up. He'd never been much for facial hair, but from a certain light it could be said to give him a more rugged appearance that he didn't mind. "I'm not too sure either. I'd say they were looking for the dungeon, but wouldn't they have started closer to the village?"

"The mana is denser in the depths, but that is true everywhere. If there was a dungeon, I did not know of it."

"Well, beats me then," he said with a shrug.

"Nothing beats me."

"If you'd told me a weak ago I'd be complaining about the cold, I'd call you crazy." Symon was in one of the old servants bedrooms, shivering slightly. The desert could get cold at night, but he'd always been around a fire. Sometimes, he'd needed his own mini one to make sure he didn't roll too close to the others in his sleep. Maybe I pull the bedsheets down into the kitchen and light one of the ovens…

<Hmm, I think I have an idea. Get me closer to that wall,> Keelgrave supplied.

Even though he had no body with which to point, Symon somehow knew which wall he was referring to.

"I'm not seeing anything," he thought as the looked at the blank wall, though he still approached it.

<Let me just… hmmm, no… maybe if I…>

The room suddenly lit up with a soft yet artificial white light. His gaze was drawn to the ceiling, where a small square in the middle was now glowing. It felt warm, reminding him of a heat lamp in a bathroom.

"Huh, how'd you do that?" he asked. There hadn't been any obvious light switches or anything similar magical equivalent, just a smooth wall.

<It's a noblewoman's house, of course it would have some comfort enchantments. Really, most people should have the basics, Brackstead is just a shithole.>

Symon frowned as he continued to stare at the wall. "But how would the servants use them? Even Entisse didn't recognise them, and she's got a mage class."

<Well, some weird Blood Mage offshoot. I doubt they're focused on external mana sense, but you're right; the peasant staff wouldn't be able to use them. Enchantment work is hardly my area of expertise, but even I can tell this is oddly made. Whoever laid it down must have just keyed it to themself.>

"Probably Lady Renske, then, right? This place is pretty well made, but they were basically on the run. It tracks they wouldn't have some enchantment expert along for the ride." He collapsed back down on his bed, savouring the gentle warmth of the enchantment and the softness of the bed.

<Hmm, I wonder where it's getting the mana from. Any core batteries would have discharged after all these years, even if the enchantments hadn't been drawing on them.>

"It can't just pull it from the air? I thought there was a bunch around here."

<Well, it can, technically, but not really. It's as expensive as a virgin whore, inefficient, and has a tendency to burn itself out. I looked into getting some for the Grymjaw, but it wasn't feasible.>

He wriggled deeper into his sheets as they comfortingly wrapped around him. "Maybe it just pipes it in from the dungeon." It apparently produced a lot of mana, making him think of it like a geothermal generator.

<That's… huh, yeah, maybe. The problem with the gathering arrays is that ambient mana is, hmm, unrefined. If dungeons are different, then yeah, I guess it could work,> Keelgrave begrudgingly admitted.

Symon smiled. "Ah, if only every mystery could be solved from the comfort of my bed. Genius Symon strikes again."

<Yeah, yeah, don't let your head get so big you can't fit through the— oh, hmm…> Keelgrave started before trailing off.

"What is it?" Symon asked, a note of concern entering his voice.

As if in response to his question, a long, groaning sound, like the sliding of massive stone slab, emanated from upstairs. Moments after, multiple sets of heavy, rhythmic metallic thumping vibrated through the wooden walls and rumbled his bed.

"Keelgrave… what is that? What did you do?"

<I, uh, may have underestimated that noblewoman. Maybe her enchantments had a security measure I possibly may have missed.>

With a sigh, Symon grabbed his sword and club from the bedside table and marched into the hallway.