The road out of town sloped gently downward, as if the world itself was trying to usher them away before Ethan healed something important.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
This was not an awkward silence. It was a processing silence.
Finally, Ethan broke it.
"So," he said, "how often does this happen?"
Kael glanced at him. "Define this."
"The being summoned. The System. The glowing. The general sense that reality is rolling its eyes at us."
Kael hummed thoughtfully. "Couple times a year? Sometimes more. Depends on… things."
"What things?"
Kael opened his mouth.
Paused.
Closed it.
"…Yeah. That part never gets filled in."
[ QUESTION RECEIVED ]
[ ANSWER UNAVAILABLE ]
[ SUGGESTION: SPECULATE WILDLY ]
"I hate that you do that," Ethan muttered.
[ YOU HATE THAT WE DO NOT LIE CONVINCINGLY ]
They passed a wayshrine—old stone, worn smooth, half-cracked like it had been important once and then quietly forgotten. Someone had carved symbols into it, layered over older symbols, layered over much older ones.
Kael slowed.
"See?" he said. "That's the thing. World's been doing this longer than anyone remembers."
Ethan peered at the stone. "Doing what?"
"Breaking people," Kael said lightly. "Then giving them a menu."
"That's… bleak."
"Welcome to adult thoughts."
[ USER ETHAN AGE CONFIRMED: STILL A CHILD ]
"HEY."
They continued walking.
"Most folks think it's punishment," Kael went on. "Or balance. Or gods getting bored. Pick your flavor of despair."
"And you?"
Kael shrugged. "I think the world's just… leaking."
"Leaking?"
"Yeah. Like it's got holes. And sometimes people fall through them."
Ethan considered that.
"That's worse," he decided.
Kael smiled. "Objectively? Yes."
[ THEORY REGISTERED ]
[ CREDIBILITY: UNKNOWN ]
Ethan frowned. "But why us? Why me?"
Kael glanced sideways. "You want the comforting answer or the common one?"
"…Common."
Kael gestured vaguely. "Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong amount of narrative potential."
Ethan stared. "Narrative what?"
[ DO NOT ENCOURAGE META AWARENESS ]
"…Never mind," Kael said quickly.
They reached a small rise overlooking farmland. Real farmland. Neat rows. Fences that looked reinforced. A scarecrow that looked suspiciously armed.
Ethan pointed. "See? Normal. People living their lives."
Kael nodded. "And every time someone like us shows up, something goes wrong. Crops grow too fast. Wells collapse. Monsters migrate."
"…I healed a cart."
"Yes. Exactly."
[ CAUSALITY REMAINS UNCOMFORTABLE ]
Ethan kicked a stone. "I don't want to ruin things."
Kael stopped walking.
Turned.
"Hey," he said gently. "You're not ruining anything."
"I literally—"
"You're revealing it," Kael corrected. "Stuff was already fragile. You just make it obvious."
Ethan absorbed that.
"…That's not better."
"No," Kael agreed. "But it's fairer."
[ CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT DETECTED ]
[ UNFORTUNATELY ]
They camped that night near a stream.
Kael built the fire. Ethan tried to help and immediately tripped over nothing.
[ TERRAIN INTERACTION FAILED ]
"I'm going to heal my dignity," Ethan muttered.
[ DIGNITY NOT FOUND ]
Kael laughed.
As they ate, Ethan stared into the flames.
"Do they ever… go home?" he asked quietly.
Kael didn't answer right away.
"…Sometimes," he said. "Maybe. People say things."
"What things?"
"That someone figured it out once. That someone broke the System instead of the other way around."
[ RUMOR CLASSIFICATION: DANGEROUSLY HOPEFUL ]
Ethan's chest tightened. "You don't believe it."
Kael shrugged. "I believe people like stories."
Silence settled again.
The fire crackled.
The stream flowed.
The world did not explain itself.
Ethan sighed.
"Okay," he said. "New plan."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Oh no."
"If the world's broken," Ethan continued, "and I'm apparently a walking repair accident—"
Kael smiled slowly.
"—then maybe," Ethan finished, "I just… fix what I can. Carefully. Quietly."
[ PLAN ASSESSED ]
[ RISK: HIGH ]
[ IRONY: EXTREME ]
Kael grinned. "I like it."
"Of course you do."
"Gives me something heroic to stand next to."
Ethan groaned and lay back on the grass.
Above them, the stars came out—too many, too bright, like the sky was showing off.
"…I miss my room," Ethan said softly.
Kael stared up too. "Yeah."
They sat there, two System users with no answers, no guidance, and a shared understanding that the world didn't hate them.
It just didn't know what to do with them either.
[ SYSTEM STATUS ]
[ STILL BROKEN ]
[ STILL WATCHING ]
Somewhere far away, something important shifted.
The System chose not to comment.
______
Morning arrived with all the subtlety of a slap.
Birds screamed cheerfully. Sunlight stabbed Ethan directly in the eyes. The ground reminded him that sleeping outdoors was a terrible lifestyle choice.
Ethan groaned and rolled over.
Something poked him in the ribs.
"Up," Kael said brightly. "Before you accidentally heal the sun."
Ethan squinted at him. "Don't joke."
[ DO NOT JOKE ABOUT THAT ]
Ethan sat up, rubbing his face. "Okay. Today I don't heal anything unless someone is actively bleeding."
Kael hummed, thoughtful. "Bold."
They ate the last of the bread and the apple Lysa had given him, now slightly bruised and philosophically tired.
As they packed up, Ethan frowned.
"Hey," he said. "If I can fix carts and chairs and axles… isn't that… good?"
Kael froze.
Very slowly, he turned.
"Oh no," he said.
"Oh no what?"
Kael pointed at him. "Say that sentence again. Slower."
"…Fixing things is good?"
Kael winced like someone hearing a bad chord.
"Buddy," he said gently. "You are a walking economic disaster."
[ ECONOMIC IMPACT ANALYSIS INITIATED ]
"I don't—"
"Okay," Kael continued, warming up now. "Scenario. Blacksmith spends two days repairing a cart axle. Gets paid. Feeds family. Economy happens."
Ethan nodded.
"You walk by," Kael said, pointing dramatically. "Zap. Free axle."
Ethan winced.
"Blacksmith loses work. Merchant saves coin. Everyone notices."
[ MARKET DISRUPTION DETECTED ]
[ CLASSIFICATION: HEALER BULLSHIT ]
"I didn't mean—"
"No one ever does," Kael said cheerfully. "That's the problem."
Ethan groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
"So I can't heal people or things."
"You can heal people," Kael corrected. "Just not… all of them. Or all the time. Or in ways that make skilled labor obsolete."
Ethan stared. "I hate this world."
Kael patted his shoulder. "You'll fit right in."
They walked.
Fields gave way to scattered farmhouses. Smoke curled from chimneys. A farmer waved at Kael, then noticed Ethan and froze mid-wave.
Ethan waved back weakly.
The farmer slowly lowered his hand and pretended he had been waving at a bird.
"…I am very noticeable," Ethan muttered.
[ YES ]
They passed a collapsed fence.
Ethan's hands twitched.
"Don't," Kael said immediately.
"I wasn't going to!"
[ LIE DETECTED: SOFT ]
"Think about it," Kael continued. "If everyone gets healed instantly, nobody plans for injury. If tools never break, nobody learns to fix them. Suddenly one kid trips and—"
"I become god?"
"No. You become targeted."
Ethan paled.
"Oh."
[ THREAT ASSESSMENT: CORRECT ]
A goat wandered into their path.
It stared at Ethan.
Ethan stared back.
The goat sneezed.
Ethan flinched.
Kael burst out laughing.
"Relax. You don't heal livestock unless—"
The goat limped.
Both of them froze.
"…Oh no," Ethan whispered.
[ TARGET ACQUIRED: GOAT ]
[ REPAIR DESIRE: STRONG ]
"Ethan," Kael said calmly. "Do not touch the goat."
"I'm not!"
The goat bleated pitifully.
A farmer shouted from a field, "Stupid thing's been lame for months!"
Ethan looked at Kael.
Kael looked at the goat.
Kael sighed. "Five seconds. Quiet. No witnesses."
Ethan knelt, slapped a hand on the goat.
Green glow.
The goat straightened, tested its leg, then bolted at full speed, leaping the fence like it had been personally insulted by physics.
Silence.
The farmer stared.
"…Huh," he said. "Must've walked it off."
Kael grabbed Ethan and ran.
[ ECONOMIC CRIME COMMITTED ]
[ YOU HAVE STOLEN FUTURE VETERINARY SERVICES ]
They didn't stop until they were breathless.
Ethan bent over, hands on knees. "I'm sorry."
Kael wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Worth it."
"I just fixed a goat!"
"Yes," Kael said solemnly. "And somewhere, a veterinarian felt a disturbance in the force."
[ HUMOR DETECTED ]
[ UNAUTHORIZED ]
Ethan collapsed onto the grass, groaning.
"So what can I do?"
Kael sat beside him.
"You fix things that would otherwise stay broken," he said. "Big things. Dangerous things. Stuff nobody wants to touch."
Ethan frowned. "Like what?"
Kael smiled slowly.
"You'll know."
[ FORESHADOWING ATTEMPT BLOCKED ]
Ethan sighed.
"Okay," he said. "No free repairs. No glowing goats. No accidental economic collapse."
Kael clapped. "Look at you. Growing."
Ethan groaned louder.
"This is exhausting."
Kael stood, offering a hand. "Welcome to being useful."
Ethan took it.
And together, they walked on—one healer desperately trying not to fix the world too fast, and one fake elf ranger very much enjoying the chaos.
[ STATUS UPDATE ]
[ ECONOMY: STILL FUNCTIONAL ]
[ FOR NOW ]
______
They walked for a while after the goat incident.
Mostly in silence.
Not because there was nothing to say—but because Ethan was still emotionally recovering from committing what Kael had described as "light veterinary fraud."
Eventually, the land began to change.
The wide plains broke into rolling hills. Stone markers appeared along the road—old ones, weathered and mismatched, like they'd been replaced several times by people who couldn't agree where borders should be.
Ethan pointed at one. "What's that mean?"
Kael squinted. "That one?"
"Yeah."
"Depends who you ask."
"That's not reassuring."
Kael smiled. "Welcome to politics."
[ WARNING ]
[ INCOMING LORE DUMP ]
"Oh no," Ethan muttered.
Kael stretched his arms, clearly pleased. "All right. Lesson time. You're currently in the Midmarch Belt."
"…Is that good?"
"It's… tolerable," Kael said. "Lots of farms. Lots of trade. Very little patience for surprises that glow."
Ethan nodded. "That tracks."
"To the east," Kael continued, pointing, "you've got the Verdane Kingdom. Green banners. Big forests. Big laws. Kings who pretend they don't rely on System users while quietly hiring them."
"Hypocritical?"
"Extremely."
[ POLITICAL SUMMARY: ACCURATE ]
"To the west," Kael went on, "is the Coalition Cities. No king. Just councils, guilds, and paperwork weaponized as a concept."
Ethan blinked. "That sounds worse than monsters."
"It is," Kael said solemnly. "At least monsters are honest."
Ethan glanced north. "And that way?"
Kael winced. "Mountains. Old empires. Ruins that still remember being important. Do not go north unless you enjoy curses and history yelling at you."
"Noted."
"And south," Kael finished, "is the coast. Trade ports. Pirates. Cultists. Fish."
"…Fish?"
"Never trust fish-heavy economies."
[ NOTE ]
[ THIS IS NOT OFFICIALLY TRUE ]
Ethan processed all of that.
"So," he said slowly, "everywhere is bad in a different way."
Kael beamed. "You're learning."
They passed another marker—this one newer, with a symbol carved over an older one.
"Borders move," Kael explained. "Wars. Treaties. Marriages. Sometimes someone important trips and dies."
Ethan stared. "That's it?"
"History is very fragile," Kael said. "Much like goats."
[ CALLBACK ACKNOWLEDGED ]
Ethan hesitated. "And… System users?"
Kael's smile faded just a little.
"They're tolerated," he said. "Used. Watched. Blamed."
"By everyone?"
"Mostly by people in power," Kael replied. "Because Systems don't care about crowns. Or laws. Or taxes."
Ethan perked up. "I don't care about taxes either."
Kael pointed at him. "That's how they get you."
[ DANGER: NAÏVETÉ ]
They crested a hill and saw a distant city on the horizon—walls glinting faintly, banners fluttering.
"That," Kael said, "is Ardent Crossing. Trade hub. Neutral-ish. Lots of eyes."
Ethan swallowed. "We're going there?"
Kael nodded. "We are skirting it."
"Oh thank goodness."
"You're not ready for city politics."
"I'm not ready for any politics."
Kael laughed. "You say that now."
Ethan frowned. "Kael?"
"Yeah?"
"Why are you helping me?"
Kael considered that.
"…Because someone helped me," he said eventually. "And because you haven't tried to be special yet."
Ethan blinked. "Is that bad?"
"Very," Kael said. "The ones who try to be special burn out. Or burn things down."
[ STATISTICAL SUPPORT: STRONG ]
Ethan kicked a stone. "I just want to not ruin things."
Kael clapped him on the back. "Excellent goal. Rare. Terrifying."
They walked on.
Ahead, the road forked—one path toward the distant city, the other winding toward smaller settlements and hills.
Kael slowed.
"Choice time," he said.
Ethan stared at the city.
Then at the quieter road.
He sighed.
"Less people."
Kael grinned. "Correct answer."
[ PLAYER DECISION LOGGED ]
[ OUTCOME: SURVIVABILITY INCREASED ]
They took the quieter road.
Behind them, kingdoms plotted, borders shifted, and systems continued to malfunction quietly.
Ahead of them, more things waited to be broken.
Or healed.
Preferably without destabilizing the economy.
Ethan walked on, trying very hard not to glow.
Kael walked beside him, already planning how to explain currency inflation if Ethan accidentally fixed a mill.
[ SYSTEM STATUS ]
[ STILL NOT EXPLAINING ANYTHING ]
And somehow, despite everything, the world kept turning.
Which Ethan was beginning to suspect was the real miracle.