The training hall reeked of burnt herbs and pride.
Students from the Healer Clan stood in uneven rows, faces pale from mana exhaustion. The morning exercise: basic regenerative channeling. Simple for anyone with even a trace of talent.
Yet over half the class was either unconscious or vomiting mana sludge into buckets.
Arata Tadano stood alone at the edge, perfectly still, breathing softly as he wrapped a glowing thread of life force around a cracked practice dummy's shoulder joint.
> Too tight and the tendons will snap. Too loose and it won't hold under pressure. Find the balance.
A soft click echoed as the dummy's shoulder realigned—perfectly.
"...You again," muttered Instructor Kael.
The man was in his forties, bald, and reeked of boiling root tea. He approached with arms folded, gaze filled with suspicion more than praise.
"You've got the touch of a third-year," Kael said, kneeling to inspect Arata's work. "But no clan background. No family name. You expect me to believe you learned this from books?"
Arata didn't flinch. "I read fast."
"Smart mouth," the man muttered, standing. "Go help the others before they bleed out of their noses."
> You mean the ones who tried to mock me yesterday?
Still, Arata moved. He knelt beside a girl whose hands shook from over-channeling and placed his fingers along her wrists.
> Mana misalignment. Flow forced backward. Dangerous.
But easy to fix.
He closed his eyes, focusing. A few seconds later, her breathing slowed. Her face stopped twitching.
"...Th-Thanks," she mumbled, stunned.
Arata stood up silently and moved on.
---
From the corner of the hall, Kaito Ren watched the entire scene unfold, eyes wide.
"Yo. Arata's a freak," he whispered.
"Totally," said a taller boy beside him. "Did you see how fast he fixed her? He barely touched her."
"Think he's already awakened?"
"No way. The healers don't awaken till their teens. Plus, no mana brand yet."
Kaito didn't say anything. He just kept watching, expression unreadable for once.
> Something's off with Arata.
Something big.
Later That Night
The orphanage was quiet.
Arata sat alone in the unused storeroom, knees crossed, eyes shut. His hands glowed faintly with golden mana, which shifted—then darkened. Threads of black-red light pulsed through his fingers.
> Reverse Stitching – tested and stable.
Nerve Surge – untested. Need a live body for precision.
Ghost Healing – delayed kill effect confirmed on rats.
He opened his eyes. The glow faded.
The healer techniques were coming fast now.
Faster than anyone would expect.
But it wasn't just because of talent—it was memory. Muscle instinct. His body might be new, but his soul remembered pain. Battle. Death. Recovery.
> Healing isn't just restoration. It's control over the body.
And control… is domination.
Suddenly, a knock echoed.
"Oi. Tada? You in there?"
Kaito.
Arata sighed and stood, brushing his shirt off. "Door's open."
Kaito poked his head in. "What the hell are you doing in the dark like a crypt keeper?"
"Thinking."
"That's creepy." Kaito flopped into a nearby crate, holding up a folded flyer. "You see this?"
Arata took it. Read silently.
---
[ HEIRLOOM CREST ACADEMY: RECRUITMENT TRIAL ]
Date: 1 Week
Eligibility: Any aged 12–17
Type: Combat + Mana Control
Clan Slots Available: Elemental – 3 | Mage – 2 | Spiritual – 1 | Summoner – 2 | Healer – 1
Special Note: Rare talents will be scouted regardless of background.
---
"Only one slot for Healers?" Arata asked.
"Yeah. Sucks, right? We're basically decorative at this point." Kaito grinned, but there was a bite to his voice. "You going?"
"No."
"...Liar."
Arata looked up, sharp.
Kaito smirked. "You want in. I can see it. You look at that academy tower every morning like you're planning to burn it down."
Arata didn't respond.
Kaito stood, brushing dust off his knees. "I signed up."
"You'll die," Arata said flatly.
"I know," Kaito laughed. "But maybe I'll get a cool scar first. Something badass."
He turned to leave but paused in the doorway.
"You should go too. Just to see what you're really made of."
The door shut.
And Arata was left alone again—with silence, shadows, and that annoying spark of curiosity he'd been trying to smother since the day he was reborn.
---
The Next Morning – Outside the Orphanage
The air was heavy with rain, but Arata stood alone in the garden, hands raised.
A bird had broken its wing.
A clean fracture, clean enough to heal. But Arata hesitated.
> If I heal it gently… it'll fly again.
If I accelerate the cells… they'll overgrow, and it'll never flap right again.
If I shift the nerves, I can make it feel healed even while it dies.
So many options. So much power…
He healed it gently.
The bird chirped, blinked, and flew away.
Arata watched it disappear into the gray sky.
---
> I wasn't reborn just to blend in.
> I was reborn to test the limits of this power. To decide what deserves saving… and what doesn't.
> Heirloom Crest… is just the beginning.
---
[End of Chapter 2]