Melina and Mira had been nothing short of a blessing. Without their help, convincing the frightened and grieving villagers to even allow him near the dead might have taken hours—if it worked at all. But somehow, their pleas, gentle voices, and the purity of Mira's smile had swayed the hearts of those once hardened by loss.
Now, the villagers had stepped aside, forming a large circle around the bodies they'd carried to the village center. Even the teenage boy who had clung so tightly to his little brother's lifeless body had finally set him down, albeit reluctantly. All eyes were fixed on Aria—the stranger, the outsider, the odd man with unknown powers—waiting, praying, hoping for a miracle.
Among the crowd, Mira stood close by Aria's side, tightly gripping his cloak with small, trembling fingers. She wore a bright expression, radiant in a way that seemed untouched by death or despair. Her smile only widened every time he patted her head softly, and for a moment, Aria wondered if her faith in him was born from naivety or something else entirely.
Some villagers still gripped their weapons, wary and tense, unwilling to fully believe in the promise of resurrection. Aria noticed them. Their distrust burned hot in their eyes, even as others began to lower their arms and lean forward in curiosity or desperate hope.
Mira tugged again at his cloak. Aria crouched down, facing her at eye level.
"Stay by your mom's side, Mira," he said gently, brushing her hair back with his hand.
She pouted, her grip tightening. "But what if you fail? I can help you escape if they get mad," she said boldly.
Aria couldn't help but laugh. "You're really something, Mira." His eyes softened. "I won't fail. I promised you, didn't I?"
She hesitated, then nodded once and sprinted toward her mother, who was watching from the crowd with eyes full of worry. Mira stood beside her, waving back at Aria with excitement and trust.
With a slow inhale, Aria turned toward the bodies laid before him. His footsteps felt heavier than usual, not because of doubt, but the sheer weight of what he was about to do. He stopped just a few feet from them, closing his eyes briefly.
"Status open."
The blue screen materialized before him—glowing, humming faintly, and partially obscured by a shimmer of his own magical aura. He scanned the screen quickly, scrolling past stats and attributes until his eyes landed on the skill he needed most.
[Heal 10/100]
He'd never dared to increase it too far. Drawing attention was never his goal, not in Nile town and especially not here. But if he wanted to bring back the dead… 10 simply wouldn't do.
"Increase Heal to 20," he whispered.
[Skill Increased]
[Heal 20/100]
Instantly, a green glow began to swirl around him like a rising tide. It started as a soft pulse beneath his feet, then grew, lifting his cloak and tossing his hair in a wind that had no source. The villagers gasped, shielding their eyes as the glow intensified.
[Activating Skill]
The light enveloped Aria fully. His feet left the ground, slowly lifting him into the air. His body hovered like a celestial being summoned from a divine realm. With hands extended over the dead, he brought his palms together as if in prayer. The wind howled through the village center.
Mira's eyes glistened as she watched in awe, her hands clasped together tightly.
A gentle hum filled the air.
And then—the bodies below began to glow the same green light. Their skin, once gray and bloodied, regained color. Cuts stitched themselves shut. Broken bones aligned. Blood vanished like it had never spilled.
The villagers staggered back, some dropping to their knees in disbelief.
Flash!
The light exploded outward one final time.
Then silence.
The glow faded, and the wind fell still.
Aria's feet touched the ground gently, as though the earth itself feared disturbing him. He stood perfectly still, eyes closed. He refused to open them. Not yet.
I hate this facade, Aria thought grimly. But it's necessary. If I'd just tapped the ground and shouted "heal," they might've stoned me as a demon. I don't need more titles… 'Aria the Weird' is more than enough.
The theatrics—the light, the floating, the saintly pose—were all thanks to his Facade Skill, a hidden passive he rarely acknowledged but often relied on. It helped him sell the image of something divine.
But he hadn't opened his eyes because… he was afraid.
He had only ever used 10% of his heal ability. With 20, he had no idea what could happen.
Please... let it have worked.
A scream pierced the air.
Aria's eyes snapped open, searching for danger.
But there was none.
The villagers were screaming—not in fear, but joy.
They were crying. Laughing. Holding each other. Hugging the very people who'd once laid cold and lifeless just moments before.
The teenage boy clung to his younger brother, both sobbing uncontrollably. Mira threw her arms around her revived little friend, tears falling down her cheeks.
Then, footsteps.
The village chief ran forward with his wife. He dropped to his knees before Aria, bowing his head so low it touched the dirt.
"Thank you… thank you… thank you!" he chanted, his wife beside him, echoing the same words through her tears.
Aria knelt and tried to pull him up. "Please, stand. I only did what I could."
The chief rose only to throw his arms around Aria in a firm, grateful hug.
Aria stood still in surprise before awkwardly returning the gesture.
Then—
"Mira?" he blinked as she slammed into him, wrapping her small arms around his waist.
"I knew you could do it!" she beamed, eyes sparkling.
Aria smiled.
Really smiled.
It had been so long since he had.
But something tugged at his awareness.
He glanced at Mira's clothes—clean, unstained, perfect. He looked around.
Wait…
Wasn't that fountain broken in two?
He blinked. Looked again.
It was brand new.
He scanned the entire village.
The damage was… gone.
Walls that had once crumbled were pristine. Paint gleamed like it had just dried. Not a single sign of battle, fire, or blood remained.
This isn't healing... this is restoration.
Tap. Tap.
"Chief!" a villager sprinted into the crowd, panting and sweating. "You need to see the bridge!"
The chief looked confused, accepting a water flask from another.
"What about the bridge?"
The man grinned. "It's back! But that's not all—there's water!"
The crowd broke into murmurs.
Aria's brows furrowed.
Splash. Splash.
He and several villagers rushed to the cliffside—where once there was only an abyss of stone and dust, now flowed a crystal-clear stream. The shattered bridge had reformed, and beneath it flowed fresh water.
The villagers gasped.
Children laughed and splashed in the water. Adults dropped to their knees, drinking handfuls. The chief turned back to Aria, his face soaked with tears of joy.
He grabbed Aria's hand, shaking it with fervor. "You've saved us... in more ways than one."
Aria simply nodded, his mind still racing.
[Heal Skill Decreased to 10]
He exhaled.
Let's not try that again.