Lifestealer: Cursed Healer [A LITRPG Isekai Survival]

[You have entered the Dungeon: Shattered Palace of Crystal.

Recommended Level: 40-50.

Escape Condition: Expunge Durnemeth, Architect of Crystal.

Escape Condition: Submit to Durnemeth, Architect of Crystal.]

Symon stared at the glowing cracks in the wall before slumping back down, his head banging against the rough stone floor.

Blank eyes tried to bore holes through the ceiling as he lay there. The longer he'd been on Cathar, the more he saw his second chance at life as more of a sick joke. Waking up in the Wastes, almost immediately getting attacked by an annoying spirit… that was bad enough, but he could deal with that. He had dealt with that, escaping the desert and entering something resembling a partnership with Keelgrave.

At least meeting the Dumosans had been great, one of the few events he could say was positive, but now they were lost. He wasn't even sure if they were captives or just dead.

Then, he'd somehow managed to earn the enmity of a faction of what may as well have been demigods, just because he'd saved the life of an innocent woman. Well, mostly innocent. To get away from them, they'd escaped someplace that almost sounded worse.

Oh, and to top it all off, he'd had his heart punched out of his chest. His heart hadn't beat once since waking up, so at least he'd die before having to deal with the mess he'd somehow gotten himself into.

The more he thought about that, the less it made sense. The fact that he was still alive, that is. Even someone with ten times his Constitution shouldn't have been able to survive having their heart stop beating for this long, not without some type of special ability. Considering his magic was out of juice, he was a bit confused.

Blood still slowly dribbled from the edges of the wound, and Anatomy was highlighting the feeling of it flowing through his veins.

He still felt a little foggy and disorientated, but he otherwise felt surprisingly fine. If he draped a blanket over his chest and covered up the massive missing chunk, he could almost have convinced himself that he'd merely taken a little punch.

Instead, he looked at his limp heart, which slumped in his exposed chest cavity like a deflated tire. The larger arteries and veins were all hooked up, but the bottom half of his heart was a stringy mesh of meat, instead of the thick muscle it should have been.

He wouldn't be running around or fighting like this, but he could probably drag himself around. The floor was rough and had plenty of handholds. There was no sign of anything living, but there surely had to be something inside the dungeon.

Hopefully, he could find some mushrooms or moss to drain for a little vitality, though it was equally likely he'd find a monster to eat him.

There was no guarantee that whatever was keeping his blood flowing would continue indefinitely, so he considered an unknown risk of dying to be the better option when weighed against guaranteed death.

He opened his mouth to speak before shutting it with a soft clop that echoed down the cave. Better to put as little strain on his body as possible. "Where's Entisse? She wouldn't have just abandoned me here after going to all that effort to save me in the first place."

<Beats me, kid. She wandered off down the cave just before you woke up. More importantly: how in the hells are you still alive?> Keelgrave asked. Symon had felt his attention when he was staring at his own heart.

"Err, also not sure. But she is a blood mage, right? Or something close to it."

She hadn't visibly displayed anything more than minor tricks with her magic over blood, but she must have done something — otherwise, he'd be dead. It could have been an old ability she had no reason to show off earlier, or it could have been something she earned recently, but it was the only explanation he could think of for what he considered a miraculous survival, even by his high standards.

Oh shit, that reminds me. Maybe there's something useful in my Ledger…

[ Status:

Name: Symon

Class: Cursed Healer

Strength: 1.06 {+0.03}

Constitution: 1.49 {+0.10}

Acuity: 1.12 {+0.03}

Intelligence: 1.15 {+0.01}

Will: 1.59 {+0.06}

Vessel (Vitality): 0/23

Abilities:

Idealise (23) {+1}

Seize (21)

Essence Bond (19)

Passives:

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Anatomy (12) {+1}

Bleeding Resistance (12) {+7}

Languages (16)

*Pain Resistance (20) {+3}

Poison Resistance (6)

Running (10) {+1}

Swords (8) {+2} ]

Titles:

Blessed by Order

Blessed by Chaos

World Traveller ]

Even despite his current condition, Symon couldn't help but feel pleased by the sudden jumps. The massive increase to his Constitution and Bleeding Resistance weren't enough to explain how he was still pumping his blood without a heart, but it must have given him more of a safety net. Hopefully, it had made whatever Entisse must have done to keep him going easier.

He also had a decision to make, but he'd have to be fast. If he was correct in his assumption about Entisse's help, then it would only last until the mana she'd put in was used up.

[ You have reached level 20 in Pain Resistance. As a reward for your efforts, choose any one tailored Evolution. Unpicked Evolutions will be available at next Evolution. You must make a selection before Pain Resistance can gain additional levels. ]

[ Pain Resistance Evolution: Martyrs' Aegis.

Expend vitality to absorb a blow meant for another. ]

[ Pain Resistance Evolution: Calming Hands.

Numb sensation via touch. Consumes vitality when used on unwilling targets. ]

[ Pain Resistance Evolution: Twilight Vigour.

Your Attributes are more effective the closer you are to death.]

Symon's eyes scanned over the glowing words written in light blue crystal, the substance growing across the floor before his eyes. He needed to be fast, but he was also cognisant that this was a very permanent decision.

He still took the time to croak out a sigh of relief that none of the offerings were too strange. Maybe the weird evolutions for Idealise were just a one-off thing?

Luckily for Symon, he was immediately confident that he would pick Twilight Vigour. The shielding one would be great for protecting his friends when he'd gotten some more Constitution, but it didn't do much for him now. He was always the one who needed protecting, but that would need to change, else he'd die in this dungeon.

Calming Hands would be great for a more normal doctor who worked in a city, but Symon would prefer to just fix the issue immediately instead of wasting time on managing pain. It had offensive applications too, like if he could numb a monster's legs and make it fall over, but it didn't appeal to him as much as the last offering.

The others weren't bad, but they were too situational. Also, he was worried about getting too many abilities that competed for his vitality. It was already a limited resource — especially right now, considering it was at zero.

Some utility was nice, but he didn't want to stretch himself so thin that he could barely even heal. He would be a Healer, first and foremost, and then maybe have a couple of aces up his sleeve for specific situations or if he found himself in a glut of vitality.

Keelgrave hummed noncommittally as he considered the options, but Symon had already made up his mind and selected Twilight Vigour, not wanting to waste any more time.

The process of evolving had never been very noticeable. He'd feel some tingling, maybe some pins and needles, and then he'd have the new ability or modification.

This wasn't the case now. The moment he selected the evolution, several things happened at once.

His muscles relaxed where they had been working to keep him propped up, and he breathed a sigh of relief. When he did so, the air seemed to fill his lungs more completely, as if he'd been a heavy smoker who had just been magically cured.

His leftmost lung still fluttered uncomfortably with every breath, but it was less noticeable than it had been a few moments ago.

The blood travelled around his body with renewed… determination. Like it had begun to forget what it was supposed to do, but had just been reminded it needed to keep moving.

The shadows thrown by the little purple crystal lights receded slightly, their dark depths no longer as impenetrable as they were moments ago.

Using a wall as support, he slowly pulled himself upright. He took things slow, and his chest felt oddly heavy, but he seemed to be doing alright, all things considered.

"Let's find where Entisse went and get some more vitality before my blood stops. Keep an eye out?" he asked as he took the only path available to him. Little blue crystals dotted the walls, giving an uneven glow reminiscent of emergency lighting all the way down the tunnel, or at least until it turned sharply to the side. Despite the poor lighting, all the murky shadows gave up their potential secrets after a few moments of staring, but he couldn't see anything else of note.

<Aye, but try not to rely on my senses. The mana is pretty thick already, so something could be hiding.>

His legs felt strong as he continued down the tunnel with a nod, though he kept one hand on the wall just in case. He felt far too good for how precarious his situation was, and probably would have broken out in a sprint if Anatomy wasn't telling him how loosely his heart was connected.

Striking a balance between speed and not exacerbating the wound, he advanced down the tunnel in a shuffling jog. The thread led the way, searching around for something to drain, but finding nothing.

No insects, no tiny bits of plant or fungal life called this tunnel their home. There was nothing but rock, crystal, and himself.

And Keelgrave, of course.

"What are the chances the Praetorians show up here? Or even just that tracker guy?" Symon asked after a minute of travel.

<Oh, they can't. It's part of why dungeons are so dangerous: you can't get any more supplies or reinforcements from the outside world until you finish it,> Keelgrave answered as if it was obvious. It probably was, and everyone else but him knew that.

He breathed a rough sigh of relief. "Ah, good. And what are the chances they're waiting outside for us to finish this?" he continued, though he already knew they wouldn't get off easily.

<Basically guaranteed, there's no way they would send a capital ship for an elf and then just give up like that. I'd bet my soul they're setting up an outpost over the dungeon entrance as we speak.>

That was great. Symon just couldn't catch a break, though it didn't seem like his chances of making it out of here in the first place were good. The Ledger recommended that you be on the Second Step to enter the dungeon, and he imagined it would still be a dangerous experience even if he met the recommended levels.

Presumably, this number also assumed that you went in with a bigger team, not two people and a spirit who was largely only able to dispense advice.

He was also far less prepared than he would have wanted to be. Ideally, he would have gone in with a pack filled with food and water, and other supplies like a tent, spare clothes, and other tools to make his life easier. Some magical items would have been nice too, but those hadn't been available in a place as poor as Brackstead.

Instead, he had almost nothing with him. He had his sword, his club — of which the strap to tie it to his back desperately needed replacing — as well as his pants and boots. His pack had either been knocked off him or completely destroyed, meaning all his supplies and various bits and bobs were lost. There was nothing of extreme value that he'd miss, but he wasn't pleased about the loss of his food and water.

Eyeing the bumpy stone floor, he quickly added his missing bedroll to the list of destroyed essentials.

He'd survived hunger and thirst in the desert, though, and he'd been a lot weaker back then. He'd have a capable ally in Entisse as well, or at least he would as soon as he found where she had wandered off to. Hopefully, she had stuck close enough that she would be back before his blood stopped, but he figured he may as well seek her out first.

Symon gave himself a determined nod as he continued down the tunnel, still finding nothing but rock and crystal that zigged and zagged this way and that. It narrowed and widened in places, but never enough to force him to duck or squeeze through a gap.

Getting out of here would be hard, but he was nothing if not a survivor. He wouldn't let overwhelming odds and his own failing body get him down.