Rules of Biomancy: A LitRPG Healer Fantasy

Six days had passed. The pressure on all fronts had increased. Thousands had died from surprise attacks during retreats, even more had been injured, and Elijah had been sent out to help the surviving forces.

"Larger group trying to flank us from the west," Elijah reported, barely noticing his own body's movements as he spread out his awareness into the world around him. He could see every pair of boots on the grass, every fallen that had succumbed to their injuries, and every ongoing fight between combatants. Thousands upon thousands of small interactions simultaneously, and his mind absorbed every little detail. "Small squadron of mages from the east preparing long-range strike."

Like clockwork, what sounded like miniature explosions could be heard, and the horizon flared up with rising orange and pink flames. They moved fast, nearly swallowing up the entire sky above them, but the current protector of the masses moved faster.

Rocks sprouted from the ground and covered the five hundred or so remaining soldiers, protecting them from the devastation. It was the work of Lord Greyhelm, who exhaled loudly while keeping up the constructs.

Even with a short lifespan, the bolts of flame had still been hot enough to grant the stone an orange glow.

"They're readying another blast," Elijah warned. He grit his teeth when he got word from Dawn that the defence in the west had started, forcing him to split his attention between assisting the warriors and helping Lord Greyhelm. 'Dawn, take care of the mages.'

'On it!'

Using the energy granted for a dozen archers having their blood removed from their bodies, the duck manifested a giant maw below the distant mages. With a chomp, the five pests were crushed, their bones and flesh turned into one uniform liquid before being swallowed into the grass.

"Mages in the east are dead," Elijah reported, letting Lord Greyhelm put down the rocky half-dome. "I'm getting some strange readings further out, but we have at least a minute to breathe."

Ignoring the fighting in the west, at least. The back of Elijah's mind still worked without respite on that front, turning the grass slick and making roots grab at the enemy boots. Anything that gave their side an opening to strike.

"Keep up the tempo, lads!" Lord Greyhelm shouted at the soldiers that surrounded them. "Plenty of distance left before you're safe."

They needed at least six hours more of this before they would reach Tina and the army she was leading back. Six hours where they were vulnerable, and Elijah had to maintain constant vigilance.

Not the worst odds.

Elijah had been at it for the past twelve already.

'Fighting's done,' Dawn commented. Elijah had detected the same as the final warrior got cut down. Dawn had immediately started the celebrations with every body she could reach. 'Sixty treats!'

Of those, ten had been wearing Serenova's colors. Not a terrible loss, but Elijah knew they could've done better. In other circumstances, his attention would've been more focused, giving his allies better odds, and allowing for—

An uneven patch of grass in the otherwise flat plains betrayed Elijah, his left foot slipping and his body nearly hitting the ground if not for the quick hands of Aleksi.

"I'm supposed to be protecting you from outside dangers, you know," the giant reminded him, as he put Elijah back down. Some rather impolite snickering could be heard from those around them. "Try to look where you're going."

"Don't stress the man, tron," Lord Greyhelm said, the final word coming out as a guttural growl of sorts. A dwarven word. "I've peeked into what flashes before your healer's vision without end, and I would do much worse with keeping my footing in his stead."

Ignoring the playful tone that stayed on the dwarven tongue, one detail did catch Elijah's interest.

"You can pick up my commands?" he questioned.

"Your words flow through the earth, Elijah, and everything beneath the grass is my domain," Lord Greyhelm reminded him. Even with the stone skin and the more frequent use of the rebreather that further obscured the dwarf's face, Elijah could still catch the toothy grin. "While your words shake in a different tongue than the one I've grown used to, they are not different enough to be a complete mystery."

'... Can he hear me?' Dawn asked, to which the dwarf chuckled.

"Tell your familiar that I've heard plenty of chatter," Lord Greyhelm said, causing a minor uproar through the roots. "While I might have missed some context, I must admit that your conversations are most intriguing."

"Anything I should know?" Aleksi asked.

"Other than the fact that your dear friend's familiar carries an insatiable hunger for every food imaginable, I don't believe there's much that could've been missed," the dwarf explained, summing up most of Elijah's conversations with Dawn. "But you should know that the connection sits on a much deeper level than most other mages with familiars."

"Really?"

"Yes. Of the hundreds that I have met and interacted with, it is only this duck, as you refer to her as, that has formed whole words and sentences," Lord Greyhelm proceeded to explain, several ears pointed his way. "For most familiars, whether they are as intelligent as the mage or not, can only communicate through transferred sensations, instinctual hints, and perceived intents. This works fine during combat, as decades of fighting alongside one another mean that there is rarely a need for words anyhow, but the fact that you can have actual back-and-forths with this familiar of yours is a most rare curiosity."

"Maybe that's because Dawn might not be what you traditionally refer to as a familiar," Elijah theorized. "If I were to guess, I would assume there is a standard method of sorts when it comes to creating a bond between a mage and a potential familiar."

"The runic circles, incantations, and oaths differ between races, but the general structure has remained the same for the past thousand years."

"Makes sense," Elijah continued. "I didn't do anything related to that. Dawn came as a product of my experimentations with nothing but the manipulation of a sundrop flower. The bond between us started out like one between me and any other plant that I have interacted with. It is only through time, filled with trial and error, that she independently developed into what she is today."

A ravenous beast.

'Hey!' Dawn protested. 'I'm a ravenous duck!'

'Of course, you are.'

"The mysteries that surround Serenova continue to deepen," Lord Greyhelm muttered. They paused briefly, as a distant rumble could be heard. Thunder, of the mighty variety, but without the dark clouds just yet. "It seems that we will be marching through the rain soon."

"Seems like it," Aleksi agreed. "I assume that's not a problem you've had much of in the past?"

"No… life beneath the surface allows for a limited variety in weather," the dwarf said. "The mightiest of cities in Stroham do allow for clouds to form in time, but they are small and temporary. Nothing like the sky that you see every day."

"Clouds in Stroham? That sounds like quite a sight, no matter what."

A new voice had entered the conversation, that of a young woman whom Elijah had seen so little of for the past weeks.

"Grace," Elijah greeted, noting that the woman's feet weren't touching the ground. Instead of walking, she simply floated half a meter above the grass, keeping pace with everybody around her. "I see you've become more experienced since the last time I saw you."

"That's just the reality of war, I suppose," Grace replied smoothly, adjusting her legs into a lotus position while she got a little closer. "More than enough opportunity to get more powerful and all that."

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Right. Elijah supposed it would've been impossible for her not to be sent out like everybody else. He truly hadn't intended to forget about her whereabouts in the past many weeks, but times had been hectic, and her absence had been missed. Elijah knew she'd spent many hours bringing the other apprentices into the Dungeon, but the intensified aura that surrounded her made it clear she'd also accumulated much experience in the field.

"Do the winds reveal any dangers, Miss Grace?" Lord Greyhelm asked.

"Other than the thunderstorm that's picking up at abnormal rates, I'm not spotting anything amiss," Grace reported. She didn't look happy, staring at the black clouds just barely possible to see in the distance. "They don't feel right."

"Your instincts are telling you something is off?" Elijah asked, watching those black clouds as well. Grace nodded as a flash of light and a delayed rumble could be seen and heard. "Then let's trust your gut. Warn the officers in the front and the back to be ready for long-range attacks."

'Finish your meal, Dawn, and start searching for abnormalities as far out as you can.'

With his left hand tightly gripping his staff, Elijah allowed more and more Mana to leave his Core. It wasn't possible long-term anymore, with the break in assaults, but he needed assurances that he hadn't missed anything. His own body had started to warn him of danger, that the storm obscured an attack, but he couldn't find where they were.

No grass had been touched from that direction, and all plant life sat idly by. Nothing was amiss, with the exception of the rain that started to fall within his range.

Another crack of thunder, a flash of light, and a roar that filled his ears. The storm only continued to get closer.

"I can't find anybody lying in wait," Elijah reported. Nothing was amiss, other than the storm. "What about you, Lord Greyhelm?"

"Nothing beneath the soil, though I believe that we missed the obvious," Lord Greyhelm replied. "With a barrage of constant magical attacks, the world can manifest strange occurrences and weather patterns, but Serenova is not yet saturated with the Mana of dead mages. Nothing would allow such a storm to be created by the world without a hand guiding it."

Elijah wanted to reject that proposal, from the fact that the storm approaching was simply too large to be the work of a mage. It covered the entire distant sky as it approached, a dozen kilometers wide and carrying more power than any person could wield.

But… as the black clouds continued to approach, and the lightning strikes became more frequent, he saw the trace of Mana residing within. A well-hidden guiding line, obscured by a hand that possessed decades of practice, but his eyes could not deny what they'd seen.

"It's a Stormcaller," Elijah said, his head pounding as he tried to figure out how to survive the next hour. "A powerful one."

"Shit," Aleksi cursed, the giant's hands moving to his axe. "I remember this one. It's the head of the Western Dungeon. Some old bastard that got into power at the end of the last war."

Curses of a more esoteric nature flew through Elijah's mind as he fought to recall the briefings regarding the mages to avoid on the field. Vera's people had gathered a list of all potential heavy-hitters, one that contained a smaller section of people that needed to be avoided at all costs. In that section, only two names had been listed.

Gerwin Blitzborn, the head of the Western Dungeon, and Isolde Valgren, the head of the Eastern Dungeon. Both mages were the same age as Elijah, but they had spent the old war dominating every opponent they met, and the fifty years since that time had allowed at least one of them to expand their powers.

"We can't win a battle against this mage," Elijah warned, though he wasn't sure what their options were. They were in an open field, five hours away from allies, and without any mages who specialized in ranged attacks. With the Stormcaller likely above the clouds, it would take the help of a god for a stray projectile to reach the enemy.

Retreating wasn't an option either. The winds were powerful and moved faster than any human could run, much less the speed that five hundred tired soldiers could achieve. Even with Elijah helping them along, granting them the full use of their bodies through enhancements, it wouldn't be enough.

No way to fight and no way to flee.

An awful reality, but Elijah didn't allow himself to fall into despair. Especially not when he could see Lord Greyhelm slow in his steps, as the dwarf realized the same facts.

"Five hundred souls to protect," Lord Greyhelm muttered. The Earth Mage grew silent for a moment before looking at Elijah. "Your ways of staying in contact with Kulvik. Could they be used for the other army to meet us here?"

"... Yes, but that would take hours," Elijah answered, after a moment of contemplation. He knew Tina carried the enchanted paper, and that Alin could most certainly pass on the message, but the time required for the other heavy-hitter to arrive would be too much. If they knew their precise coordinates, they could've called in Sven for transportation, but they didn't have that luxury. "Do you have a plan?"

"Less of a plan and more of a hope," Lord Greyhelm said. Before Elijah could question what that meant, the dwarf inhaled deeply from the rebreather before shouting. "Gather yourself into tight formation! Now!"

His voice carried through the strikes of thunder, and the officers on the outskirts repeated the orders. Within a minute, every man and woman stood shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing worried expressions along with a desperate hope that it would be alright.

"What now?" Elijah asked.

"Now, I give you a taste of what the dwarven mind can accomplish," Greyhelm announced. With the rebreather put back onto his chest plate, the dwarven lord took off his gauntlets and dug his stone hands into the earth. "To Duron's spirit, I ask for protection."

In that moment, Elijah realized how much Lord Greyhelm had held back. While not as powerful as Alin, the dwarf could still mold the terrain like clay, meter-thick walls sprouting from the ground around them.

A fortress, with small notches in the stone and etched faces on the walls. A creation not thought of in that instant, but an actual fortress that carried the small damages that came from centuries of use.

A place that could protect those who needed it.

And the work only expanded in size and complexity. Elijah could see the walls growing thicker, the ceiling supported by a dozen pillars being reinforced, and the floor being pushed downwards to give them more distance from the enemy. Layers upon layers, all from the hands of a single Earth Mage.

In three minutes, one dwarf had created what a hundred men would have spent a decade building brick by brick.

And yet that first strike of thunder upon its walls could still be felt, the shockwave travelling through Elijah's body. The power was enough to momentarily stop his lungs from functioning, and he fought for air.

Others had it worse, already on the ground and preparing for the worst. Elijah could see some of his colleagues standing still, unsure of what to do. He saw Grace in the front, ready to help with anything, but he doubted that chance would come.

The scale of this battle was beyond them.

"Through Durons' spirit, I fight to break the chains," Greyhelm chanted, as another burst of lightning struck the fortress. Cracks began to form on the ceiling and walls, and the hail of rain outside sounded like they were chipping off stone, but the Earth Mage persisted. "With Duron by our side, we will never be forced on our knees again."

Cracks disappeared, the shaking ceased, and pillars sprouted to offer more support. Elijah could see the dwarf fighting for air, and his magical senses allowed him to spot the brown light emanating from the mage's skin. Every second, Greyhelm gave it everything he had.

Careful not to disrupt the process, he pulled the rebreather off the dwarf's chestplate and put it to his mouth. Several deep breaths were taken before a nod signalled for Elijah to return it to its place.

"Brothers in stone, brothers in blood, fight for the dream that Duron showed, for no others will fight for you."

As the last word left Greyhelm, a third strike was felt. This time, the damage was too severe.

The stone fractured faster than it could be repaired, the rain peeled away the layers, and the lightning pierced through the final slabs. Light flashed before Elijah's eyes, and he grew momentarily blind and deaf.

A second made him wonder if he'd died, but his body repaired his eyes, and he saw the smoking pillars that had been sacrificed. The fortress was being torn apart around them, yet the lack of energy entering his Core meant that none had died.

"Pitiful."

A new voice, an old one with a nasally tone, got carried into the room by the wind. With narrowed eyes that he fought to keep open through the air and rain being blasted down at them, he could see the hint of a humanoid form. They floated at least two hundred meters above the fortress, just below the sea of black clouds.

"Follow Duron's words, and know the truth of the enemy," Lord Greyhelm continued, rising from the ground and standing tall. Even with the wind picking up, threatening to make every man and woman airborne, the dwarf did not move an inch. "'In their arrogance, they will be weak.'"

Hands of stone raised into the air, and the walls of the fortress followed. Thousands of tons of stone using the mighty winds as an initial push to accelerate into the sky.

No.

Lightning increased in power and frequency tenfold, striking at the rubble. Each hit caused the walls to fracture into smaller chunks, but it didn't matter. The trajectory remained constant, accelerating towards the Stormcaller.

"When they are at their weakest, make your final strike, for Duron will welcome you with open arms."

The sky turned white, molten chunks of stone fell to the ground, and the ear-shattering rumble of thunder and rocks smashing into itself filled the world.

Elijah tried and failed to use his magical senses to tell what happened, but the amount of Mana channeled made it impossible to see where the swirling of chaos began and ended. Only when the thunder faded and the final chunks of molten rock fell to the ground could he see the aftermath.

Grass plains scorched with small fires, a clear sky, and the only hint of black clouds being in the far distance, quickly fading below the horizon.

The enemy had fled.

A stalemate. Or, no, Elijah was wrong to think that, as he rose from the ground to meet Greyhelm's eyes.

They were unmoving, frozen in place. The dwarf, arms raised in defiance, had completed his transformation into stone. Every piece of life within the lord had faded to fight.

One life sacrificed to save five hundred.