The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 39: “W-what was that…?”

A wide field of dandelions and tall grass stretched as far as the eye could see, glowing softly beneath a pale sky washed in warm sunlight. Birds filled the air with their chirps blending into a gentle, constant sound that made the world feel alive.

Somewhere beyond sight, water moved and breathed, and the land itself seemed full of quiet creatures and hidden motion.

A cool breeze passed through, brushing the grass and carrying a sense of calm with it.

At the center of it all stood a massive oak tree, larger and older than anything around it along with its branches spreading wide to offer shade. Beneath that shelter lay Soren, his body resting motionless in the grass.

His head was cradled on the thigh of the Goddess Mirath, warm and steady, as though she were keeping watch over him. The breeze teased through his hair, lifting soft strands and letting them fall again, making them sway gently as he lay there, peaceful and unaware.

"My child..." she said softly, calling his name with a tenderness that felt deeply human, filled with care and sorrow.

Hearing her voice, Soren’s lashes trembled before his eyes slowly fluttered open.

His vision was hazy at first with the light spilling into his sight in soft, indistinct shapes.

Gradually, a figure came into focus above him. Someone looking down at him, close enough that he could feel their presence without even moving. The figure seemed to glow, not harshly, but with a gentle radiance that clung especially to their face, flowing robe, and long hair the color of molten gold.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, Soren couldn’t make out the details of that face.

It was as if the light itself refused to let him see. Realizing that, panic flared in his chest.

He jolted upright and hurriedly scooted back, expecting the figure to react but they didn’t move at all. They remained calm and unmoving while watching.

Then a sudden breeze swept over him, cool and refreshing, brushing against his skin and threading through his hair. It stole his attention, pulling his gaze away from the glowing figure and toward the world around him.

Soren froze and stood.

The field, sky and towering oak as well as the endless spread of light and life all unfolded before his eyes in breathtaking clarity. His breath caught as he took it in then his heart pounding not with fear now, but with awe.

"Oh... wow..." he whispered. Swallowing hard, he added, almost afraid to say it aloud, "A-am I dead?"

His eyes shone as he stared at the beautiful scenery with wonder filling him so completely that for a moment, everything else such as pain, fear, and memory fell away.

When the figure finally moved and rose to stand beside him, a soft chuckle escaped her lips, light and knowing, while she placed one hand behind her back in a casual, almost playful manner.

"You are not dead, my child," she said gently. "You are not. At least, not yet. Your time has not yet to come." Her voice carried a calm certainty that settled deep within him. "There are still many things you must accomplish. Paths you have yet to walk, lives you have yet to touch. With the power I have bestowed upon you, you shall travel the world, seek those who have weakened or lost their way, and grant them strength in my stead."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning and promise.

Soren swallowed. ’So... this figure is a woman,’ he thought, the realization clicking into place now that he listened more closely to her voice.’ I was right when I heard her speak earlier.’

Almost immediately, the figure let out another soft laugh, as though amused.

Soren stiffened.

His eyes widened as it dawned on him that she hadn’t laughed at nothing at all but that she had heard him. The thought alone sent a strange mix of embarrassment and awe through his chest as he looked up at her, suddenly very aware that nothing about this presence was ordinary.

"Uh, oh no, I’m so sorry," Soren blurted out, flustered when he realized his thoughts hadn’t been as private as he believed.

He then quickly straightened, his hands curling into his robe as he tried to bow in front of her. "But... may I know who you are?" He hesitated before continuing, words tumbling out in a rush. "If I’m not dead yet, then you’re not here to take my soul, right? And, about the things you said I must accomplish... I don’t understand any of it."

The figure regarded him with quiet amusement with her unreadable expression beneath the glow that surrounded her. A soft smile curved her lips as she listened, patient and unbothered by his confusion.

"Such a straightforward question," she said lightly. "You need not worry, my child." Her voice carried reassurance, steady and warm. "The power I have given you is indeed a great one, and with it comes great responsibility. But you will not walk this path alone. I shall guide you as best as I can, even when the road ahead becomes difficult."

She paused, her gaze deepening as if she could already see every step he had yet to take.

"There will be pain along the way," she continued softly, not hiding the truth from him. "There will be moments when you wish to give up, when the burden feels too heavy. But there will also come a time when happiness finds you. Light returns even after the darkest nights, you shall remember that."

Then she reached out, her presence suddenly closer, gentler.

"For now," she said, her voice lowering to a tender command, "wake up, my child."

As her words settled, the world around Soren seemed to blur with the light growing warmer and brighter, pulling him back toward consciousness.

"W-what was that...?" Soren muttered, blinking rapidly as his thoughts tangled together. "Such ambiguous words. I don’t even understand any of it... but anyway, where am I?"

The warmth and light vanished as if they had never existed.

When his awareness fully returned, he still found himself standing in the sacred hall once more. Before him, the nobles stood frozen in place with their earlier composure gone.

All of them staring straight at him in open confusion and disbelief.

Soren frowned slightly, finally noticing the weight of their gazes.

’Why are they looking at me like that?’

Then, a moment after, Caelius walked towards him with the other healers followed close behind while whispering among themselves as their eyes darting over to Soren as if trying to assess something they couldn’t quite understand.

"Y-you..." Caelius began, knitting his brows deeply as he stopped in front of him.

Soren was just about to ask what was going on when something warm suddenly trickled down his face.

He lifted a hand, more puzzled than alarmed, and stared at the blood smeared across his fingers.

Almost immediately, more spilled from his nose as he coughed blood. Strangely, the sensation of warmth and the muffled sound of gasps kept spreading through the hall.

"Goodness, what are you doing?" Caelius exclaimed, his calm finally cracking. He then stepped closer without hesitation. "Take back your mana and control it! You’re leaking it all at once!"

For someone usually so composed and reserved, the panic and worry in his voice were unmistakable.

Soren blinked, genuinely confused.

He also wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, more concerned about the mess than his own condition. Quietly, he curled his fingers to hide the blood he had coughed up, unsure why everyone looked so horrified.

"Uh... please don’t worry about me, my lord," he said quickly, forcing a small smile. "I’m fine. I really am."

And it was true. He didn’t feel dizzy, weak, or nauseous in the slightest.

Caelius let out a sharp breath. "It’s a good thing the ritual was completed before you completely lost control of your mana. Do you have any idea what would have happened if it had all drained out?" His tone hardened. "That was incredibly reckless."

He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a pristine handkerchief, offering it to Soren without hesitation.

Seeing the handkerchief, he looked at Caelius’s face and stiffened.

He shook his head quickly, smiling awkwardly as he waved his hands in refusal. "O-oh no, my lord, please don’t. It’ll get dirty." He let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. "Someone as lowly as me can’t accept something like that. Don’t worry, I can handle this myself. I’m really fine."

Caelius’s frown deepened rather than eased.

His eyes lingered on the blood stain on Soren’s hands while Soren himself stood there calmly, unbothered and unaware that the most unsettling part of the scene was not the blood itself...

But the fact that he felt absolutely no pain at all.

During the commotion, just as Soren was about to bow and apologize for what had happened especially in the presence of the High Priest, nobles, and right in front of the statue of the Goddess Mirath, Cael and Alaric approached him without a word.

"You..." Cael muttered, but the moment his gaze fell on Soren’s face that’s calm and completely unfazed despite the recent mana outburst, his thoughts spiraled into chaos.

Mana outbursts were excruciatingly painful.

Anyone experiencing one, particularly to the point of coughing up blood and suffering a nosebleed, would be writhing in agony. Yet here stood Soren, untouched by even the slightest hint of suffering with his unshaken composure was a fact that unsettled Cael to his core.

Meanwhile, above their seats, the High Priest stroked his beard thoughtfully as he watched Soren, Caelius, the prince, and the duke walk out of the sacred hall, excusing themselves while the nobles and attendants stared after their retreating backs.

"Hmm," he murmured to himself with a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "That was... remarkable. I must see that young healer again..."