Rules of Biomancy: A LitRPG Healer Fantasy

Elijah had been to human parties of all varieties. He'd celebrated Grace's birth at her mother's inn, with all the drunk brawls and flying drinks it included. He'd played bartender for the hounds of Castilla in the southern plains, serving 180 proof spirits that were guzzled down like it was water before being burped up to create balls of fire. And he'd dined with royals with looser tongues and more colorful words than even the most inebriated commoner.

And, despite all of that, nothing could've prepared him for the utter chaos of a dwarven feast.

The sensation on his skin, as an entire city sang, ate, and drank, all at the same time, shouting obscenities, throwing themselves through the air, and stumbling around like the drunk fools they were… It was unimaginable to Elijah. The sheer chaos, as the long tables filled with meats of all varieties barely stayed balanced, as dwarven children ducked below them and the adults threw themselves over them, was a sight by itself.

And the food and drink that he could see in this area fit the description of luxurious as well. While he didn't dare to follow Aleki's lead, in the giant's attempts to try everything, he could still appreciate the sheer variety of delicacies that were freely offered to the people.

Closest to them were what Elijah thought of as regular types of meats, including thick slices from cows, pigs, and sheep, before they moved over to the shelled varieties. This included both the underwater creatures, like crabs, clams, and mollusks, and the shelled monsters he'd heard of from the dungeon, like the legs of spiders, the tails of scorpions, and the entirety of what seemed to be overgrown grasshoppers.

Elijah wrinkled his nose a little as a dwarf passing by stuck his hand into the assortment of scorpion tails, grabbing a dozen before dipping them into a silvery sauce and eating them whole.

That a silvery light spread across the skin of the dwarf, as he walked away again, made it clear the sauce had been closer to regular mercury.

With the supernatural constitutions of the shorter folk, metals were a fine treat, and the outer layers of beasts were looked upon as edible as well. Elijah knew that some humans thought the same, and he knew that there were nutritional benefits of eating the shells in some specific circumstances. Still, when the exoskeleton of a scorpion was thicker than his fingers, he had to refuse.

"Doesn't taste that bad, you know," Aleksi argued, while stuffing his mouth with what looked like a plate of red-dotted salmon. "Has a kick to it if you bite down on the pellets, but everything else is just divine."

Elijah eyed the giant's plate for a second more, letting his magical senses reveal the truth.

"The pellets are filled with pure capsaicin," he revealed, making the giant pause for a second before continuing his eating. The group of dwarven kids ten meters further down the hall couldn't be seen having more mental fortitude, after all. "I'm not sure if their taste buds even pick it up."

"They can taste something, and they like what they're tasting," Aleksi countered, picking up his plate before a dwarf flying down the table could knock it over. "Stay away from the fried mushrooms, by the way. They're not fried portobellos after all."

Sighing, Elijah put a hand on Aleksi's shoulder, identifying the psychoactive compound inside the giant within a minute before flushing it out through the skin. He remembered Greyhelm recommending them to him some hours ago, with the promise of 'nothing in them being dangerous to humans,' but it seemed that the definition of 'dangerous' had been rather vague.

'Done!' Dawn exclaimed, as she cut out and ate the final piece of her newest steak. Even in her humanoid form, the slice of meat had weighed half as much as her, and yet it had only taken around… three minutes for her to finish. 'Can I have another?'

'I don't see why not,' Elijah supposed. With a quick word, Aleksi got out of his chair to lead Dawn over to the buffet tables, going down the kilometer-long line of offerings while Elijah got to stay back and enjoy his glass of so-called ale.

Human-safe, of course, as the dwarven variant so freely poured had included a mix of cyanide, coal tar, lead shavings, and what Elijah suspected to be trace amounts of nitric acid to help dissolve the heavier metals. The master brewer who'd tried to explain the fermentation process had been rather easygoing in his talking, halfway through a barrel of his own creation, but Elijah had nevertheless been convinced to stay away from the high-proof beer.

Staying with the 'lighter stuff,' which matched the strength of a fortified wine, was more to his tastes anyway. The mouthfeel was extravagant, reminding Elijah of the imperial porters bought from human merchants, with the malty and chocolatey flavors. Light enough to bring a nice warmth to the stomach, but heavy enough that Elijah felt full from a single pint.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" a voice asked from behind Elijah.

His shoulders tensed at the sudden question, as Elijah's senses had made no notice of the dwarf, but, when laying his eyes on them, he understood why that was the case. Lord Greyhelm, great Earth Mage that he was, likely had more experience hiding his magical aura than most.

"I've certainly never seen a celebration like this before," Elijah confessed, as the dwarven lord took a seat next to him, a pint of a dark, swirling ale already in hand. "We didn't warn you about Jack's imminent completion of his work, and yet you managed to prepare a feast of this magnitude within a single day."

"Never underestimate dwarven ingenuity when it comes to our cooking," Lord Greyhelm replied, a grin forming behind the beer-soaked beard. "While we might sing with pride about our craftsmanship in the forge, it is with our food and drink that we cultivated a culture of comrades."

"Ain't that the truth," Elijah muttered, looking out at the rest of the city. From where they sat, at the front area of the grand castle, he could see the thousands of dwarves partying the night away. It mattered little who you were, or what your task in the city was, as long as you could stand tall and sing your heart out while holding onto the dwarf beside you for balance. "It's something to aspire to foster in Serenova."

"With a good heart and an understanding that your hand will get dirty sometimes, you can accomplish what many see as miracles," Greyhelm encouraged, Elijah snorting at the double meaning. "With that said, I do bring news from the king."

"He won't be telling us in person?"

"Such was the plan, but he has already left Darim for Stroham," the dwarven lord explained, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Elijah. "We promised you weapons and armor, and that is what you shall receive in due time. But… before the deeper forges will respect the king of Darim's word, the older kings must confirm the most recent miracle with their own eyes."

The lack of praise for Stroham's leaders could easily be caught in the lord's tone.

"It is not every day an ancient relic is repaired," Elijah countered. "To want to see the work themselves is understandable."

"If it was I who announced the completion of your apprentice's work, I would not question their choice, but it was the king who sent the news personally," Greyhelm explained. "And yet… it is not a matter which should be discussed at such a joyous time. You, Elijah Ceade, Biomancer and Royal Healer of Serenova, bravely fought in the depths of Darim's Dungeon, and you came out not just victorious but with a prize rarely seen offered. A leyshard of the highest quality, inserted into a staff of your own making."

Of course, Elijah couldn't get away from the staff that sat beside him, and, in fact, he didn't want to go. Innately, he knew he could withdraw the object into his own body, but he found some sense of safety in having it physically within reach at all times.

"For the troubles we had below, I'd expected a little more," Elijah muttered, causing a bark of laughter to escape the dwarf. Perhaps the strength of the dwarven ale had started to affect the Earth Mage a little more than planned. "After tonight, I believe the time has come for my group to return to Serenova. Would that be acceptable?"

"We leave at your discretion," the lord assured him.

"We? You are planning to join us?"

"Miss Runner, the young lady you delved with, has talked so highly of her mentor that I am feeling rather inclined to meet him," Lord Greyhelm explained gleefully, before leaning in a little closer. "And… with the weeks it will take before the armor will be ready for transport, a platoon of dwarven warriors would be nice to travel with, don't you think? A public showing of friendship, if you will."

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Oh. So that was how the dwarves wished to play the game.

"Darim isn't allowed to fight Catilla, if I remember right."

"You do, lad, but I am only a friend of Darim," the Earth Mage reminded him, smile still bright. "I am a lord of Stroham before all else, and the agreements don't hold as tight a grip on me."

"How cunning of you."

Lord Greyhelm finished his ale soon after, getting up from his seat before wishing him farewell. In the morning, they would leave for Serenova with enough food and drink to enjoy through the entire trip to Kulvik.

Another step towards war…

A strange emotion swirled through Elijah's mind as he considered the situation steadily brewing around him. Through the cheering and smiles, he knew what waited beyond the stone, what world he would rejoin once on the surface. An air of tension, an understanding of what would soon arrive at their doorstep.

Still so far away, and yet it's hard not to hear its approach.

"Maybe I should've become a poet," Elijah muttered to himself, finishing the rest of the pint. He debated on getting up for another when he felt the air change as a certain giant activated a small portion of elixir. "Dreams die too quickly."

He had been wondering what had caused Aleksi and Dawn to take so long filling their plates.

Following the trail of the giant, the air of elixir he'd personally brewed obvious to his nose, Elijah steadily strayed from the drunken dwarves and deeper into the castle. Like the temple they'd grown accustomed to, it was filled with lavish decorations, including sculptures and statues of ancient kings, along with entire walls filled with legendary weapons wielded by legends who each had a dozen songs about their bravery.

Further down, however, the walls grew smooth, and the air became quiet with nothing but the quiet breathing of Aleksi and the others. All of the group, in fact, Jack, Sasha, and Grace standing around, two of them muttering between themselves.

And, five meters further down in the corner, the corpse of a dwarf with half their face gone could be found, with a wet piece of cloth by their side. By the smell, Elijah guessed the liquid to be Noxbloom concentrate.

Strong enough to knock out a human with one inhale.

"Why did I think tonight would be easy?" Elijah commented, noting the lack of blood he'd expected to flow from a corpse with such a large amount of its head missing. Upon closer inspection, he could see the insides revealed by the removal were coated with metal. Steel of some variety, close in coloring to Jack's bullets. "What happened?"

"Jack never learned not to follow strangers into a dark alley," Sasha replied, before anybody else had the chance. "They tried to knock him out, and he put his hand on their face and did that."

"You saw it?"

"I saw the dwarf falling and Jack freaking out," she continued. "I got him to shut up before he got too loud, but Aleksi heard us."

"Listen," Jack said, trying to defend himself. "He said he was a royal, and that he wanted to show me the armoury of ancient boomsticks. None of the people around us questioned it, so I thought he was fine."

'Dawn, I hope you're up for another full meal tonight.'

'Yes!'

"Don't worry. We're not blaming you for this," Elijah said, as he dug through the pockets of the dwarf. Most were empty, safe for a secret one on the inside of the jacket, which contained a drawing of Jack and a bottle of grey liquid. Noxbloom, just as Elijah had guessed. "I didn't know you could transmute living tissue, though."

"I didn't know either, actually. It was more a spur-of-the-moment thing," Jack explained, rolling his shoulders as the recent event washed over the young man again. "He was fast with that cloth. Didn't trust my gun, and I couldn't get my hand on anything but the face in that second, so I just tried, since he had a bit of rock on his cheeks, and, like, it took three times as much out of me, but I just Transmuted his face into oxygen. Tried steel alloy at the end, to stop the blood, but that took the rest out of me instantly."

The man's voice got more frantic at the end, trying to make excuses. Acting like nothing was amiss for the rest of the celebration would be hard, but Elijah knew they would have to make it happen.

Nobody could know about this.

"Should we be worried?" Aleksi muttered as Elijah oversaw Dawn removing the evidence of the attempted kidnapping, bite by bite. "If they've tried to take him twice, a third try should be coming sooner or later."

"Whoever did this had influence over Darim, but the fact that they tried to make it discreet means that it's not somebody who can challenge the king directly," Elijah said. His old instincts were telling him to get out of the town immediately, but he knew that appearances had to be maintained. The curse of political roles. "We stay together, we eat and drink what we know hasn't been tampered with, and we stay alert through the rest of the night. Tomorrow, we leave Darim behind, and we'll have other things to worry about."

Was that the safest plan? No, but Elijah couldn't come up with anything else that wouldn't cause uncomfortable questions sent their way.

With the evidence dissolved and the corridor cleaned of all evidence of struggle, they left in pairs. While invited to dance through the rest of the night, Elijah and the others politely declined, claiming weakness from the ale and their stomachs full. None of the dwarves grew suspicious from such excuses, though Elijah did have to suffer an onslaught of teasing and singing about human stomachs.

No word arrived about a missing royal.

When the celebration died down in the morning, and some had gotten a few hours of restless sleep, the time to depart arrived. Lord Greyhelm, in strange armor with a rebreather of sorts attached to the breastplate, and Hafrad in his usual attire, followed by ten or so dwarven warriors in black plate armor.

"Good morning to you all," Lord Greyhelm greeted, grinning at the tired faces of the group. "I hope you're ready for the day's trek?"

"As ready as ever," Elijah assured the dwarf, prompting a laugh as they walked through the city. Contrary to anticipations, the streets weren't as covered in sticky stains and dropped food as expected. Not all of it was gone just yet, including some dwarves who were still hobbling home, but it was far cleaner than some human districts could boast about. "Every dwarf is back to work already?"

"Of course," Hafrad said. "While the dwarven people know how to free their spirits, our work ethic is just as unwavering. Our machines run fast, our forges are hot, and the craftsmen are already seated. We do not take our responsibilities lightly, after all."

"I can see that."

No signs of any emergency searches.

They walked the same path as the one from the previous week, going across the bridges and old sectors not often traveled, and reaching the giant rails with the minecart on top. As they travelled with it, the rattling pierced Elijah's ears. Before, it had stressed him to no end, the shaking seat beneath him making him stress about the chance of the cart suddenly toppling, but the fact that they were leaving the city behind gave him a sense of calm that allowed him to rest his eyes.

Before he knew it, a light tap on his shoulder from Aleksi announced they'd reached the end of the trip. Getting up from his seat and using the staff to assist in his balance, the group was led through the ancient tunnels that carried them upwards.

"You alright?" he heard Jack ask the dwarven lord halfway up, as Greyhelm took the rebreather and took a deep inhale from it, the attached tube supplying a grey gas from the armor.

"I'm quite fine, Jack Larson," Greyhelm assured the young man, his voice deepening for a moment. "While the dwarves of Darim are close enough to the surface to sustain themselves on the open air, those who dwell in Stroham need assistance for extended stays."

Hearing the words, Elijah took notice of the dwarven warriors behind the lord carrying a smaller variant of the rebreather masks on their belts, hidden amongst other tools but undeniably there.

"An interesting quirk of dwarven biology, and one of the larger factors for our preference for the depths," Hafrad added, the diplomat happily taking the chance to explain his people's history. "It has only been through many millennia that we have been able to reach higher and higher, as our stone bodies adapt to the incredible amounts of oxygen that the forests of the surface send out. To any dwarf of Lodar, who breathes the hot air ten kilometers below, the open plains above would be toxic."

"I'm guessing it works the same way around?" Elijah asked as Hafrad moved to walk beside him. "That partial Assistance is required for a human to visit Stroham, and constant help is needed to survive in the first home?"

Light ahead, and the warning of the warriors who walked in front, signalled their approach onto the surface. For the first time in a while, Elijah could feel the warmth of nature and the heat of the sun's rays on his skin. Never before had he found the experience so joyful.

'Strangers…'

The grass ahead sent whispers of warning as he and the dwarves stepped onto the open ground. Elijah nearly laughed at the concept of him being away for long enough for the blades not to recognize him. He hadn't noticed any changes in his magical signature, but maybe it'd been too gradual a process to point out?

"If I remember correctly, full assistance is already a requirement for humans at Stroham's depths," Hafrad corrected, continuing to walk ahead, while the others dealt with the wagon that had remained in their absence. "Human lungs are not as conditioned for larger amounts of metal and stone dust in the air, and even short visits have proven to be detrimental to the health of your people. Nothing that can't be dealt with through the proper tools, but still a—"

A magical signature of pure darkness invaded the area.

Elijah felt the earth shake, as Lord Greyhelm reacted before he could even blink, but the initial strike had already been dealt.

Hafrad Silverstone, son of Hafred Silverstone, fell to the ground like a puppet having its strings cut, as a beam of pure death flew through his skull.