Ethan decided that if he was going to die in a strange fantasy world, he would at least die tired.
This decision came roughly ten minutes after Jorren left him at the river road with a short nod, a vague gesture toward "that direction," and the kind of look people reserved for stray dogs that might bite.
The road itself was… a road.
Dirt. Packed. Brown. It existed with absolutely no enthusiasm.
Ethan trudged along it anyway.
[ LOCATION UPDATE ]
[ RIVER ROAD — MINOR TRADE ROUTE ]
[ SCENIC RATING: MEDIOCRE ]
"Hey," Ethan said. "That's my thing."
[ COINCIDENCE DETECTED ]
The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the plains. Every rustle in the grass made Ethan flinch. Every bird call sounded suspicious. He healed a papercut from a thorn. Then he healed the soreness in his calves. Then he stopped healing things because the System started sighing at him.
[ MANA IS NOT A FEELING. PLEASE STOP SELF-CARE SPAM ]
"I'm stressed."
[ YOU ARE FOURTEEN. THAT CHECKS OUT ]
By the time he saw the village, Ethan was walking like someone who had recently discovered that legs were optional accessories.
The village was small—maybe a dozen buildings clustered around a well and a sagging wooden fence that looked more decorative than functional. Smoke rose from chimneys. Chickens wandered freely with the confidence of creatures who had never been meaningfully threatened.
Ethan slowed.
"Okay," he whispered. "Humans. Normal humans. Don't glow. Don't panic. Don't mention Systems."
[ IMPOSSIBLE OBJECTIVE IDENTIFIED ]
He ignored that too.
As he approached, conversations stopped.
Not dramatically. Not all at once.
Just… subtly.
Heads turned. Eyes lingered a beat too long. Someone pulled a child closer. A man with a pitchfork shifted his grip.
Ethan felt it immediately—the weight of attention.
"Oh no," he muttered. "I'm doing it again."
A woman stepped forward. Older. Practical. She had flour on her hands and suspicion in her eyes.
"Boy," she said. "Where did you come from?"
Ethan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Thought very hard.
"…Plains," he said finally, gesturing vaguely behind him.
The woman stared.
"That's not an answer."
"I'm new at answers."
A murmur rippled through the villagers.
[ SOCIAL INTERACTION DIFFICULTY: NIGHTMARE MODE ]
A man pushed through the small crowd. Taller. Bearded. Scar across one cheek.
"You," he said, pointing. "You glow?"
Ethan froze.
"No."
"…Sometimes?"
The man's jaw tightened.
A few villagers stepped back.
"System," the man said, voice flat.
Ethan sighed. "Yes."
The reaction was immediate.
Not fear.
Annoyance.
A collective, weary frustration like someone had just announced rain at a wedding.
"Oh, for the love of—" someone muttered.
"Another one?"
"Didn't we just finish repairing the well?"
[ NOTE ]
[ THEY REMEMBER ]
The scarred man crossed his arms.
"Can you fight?"
"No."
"Cast spells?"
"Only healing."
The man squinted. "Only?"
"Yes."
"…Huh."
The tension shifted. Not gone—but… confused.
"Healer," the woman said slowly. "You swear that's all?"
"I swear on my continued existence," Ethan said. "Which I'm very invested in."
A pause.
The man sighed.
"Fine. You can stay the night. Barn. No glowing. No Systems. No 'destiny.'"
"I don't even want destiny."
[ LIE DETECTED: YOU WANT FOOD ]
They fed him stew.
It was thick, brown, and aggressively filling. Ethan ate like someone who had recently been chased by a nightmare bear and then emotionally judged by a village.
He slept in the barn.
The hay was itchy. The cow was judgmental.
[ DAY COMPLETE ]
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: NOT DEAD ]
Ethan smiled into the hay.
"Best day yet."
Morning did not improve things.
A farmer cut his hand.
Ethan healed it.
The cut closed instantly.
The farmer yelped.
"…Don't do that so fast."
"I can slow it down?"
"Please."
Word spread.
By midday, Ethan had healed a sprained ankle, a chronic cough, and a chicken that may or may not have needed it.
The villagers watched him like one might watch a fire—useful, dangerous, and best kept contained.
A child stared at his glowing hands.
"Does it hurt?"
Ethan hesitated. "Sometimes. Not usually. Depends."
On what?
He didn't know yet.
[ SKILL PROFICIENCY INCREASED ]
[ MINOR HEAL: LESS SLOPPY ]
By evening, the scarred man approached him again.
"You're leaving tomorrow."
Ethan nodded. "Fair."
The man hesitated. "You didn't break anything."
"I consider that high praise."
"…Take bread."
He did.
As Ethan walked back to the road the next morning, the village behind him resumed breathing.
The System flickered.
[ STATUS UPDATE ]
[ REPUTATION: TOLERATED TEMPORARILY ]
[ LUCK: UNCHANGED ]
Ethan adjusted his borrowed cloak and started walking.
"Well," he said to the empty road, "things didn't get better."
[ CORRECTION ]
[ THEY DID NOT GET WORSE ]
Ethan smiled despite himself.
"Low bar," he said. "But I'll take it."
The plains stretched ahead.
Somewhere out there, more problems waited.
And Ethan, healer by mistake, walked toward them anyway.
_______
The road continued doing what it did best.
Which was existing.
Ethan walked. The sun climbed. The bread the villagers had given him became less bread-like and more crumb suggestion. He rationed it carefully, because hunger was a problem he understood how to manage, and being eaten by wildlife was still very much on the table.
He talked to himself to pass the time.
This was not new.
"Okay," he muttered. "If something jumps out, I heal. If healing scares it, great. If it doesn't, I run. If running fails, I lie down and accept my narrative function."
[ ACCEPTANCE IS HEALTHY ]
He sighed. "You would say that."
A wagon creaked behind him.
Ethan yelped and nearly fell into the ditch.
The wagon slowed.
"Whoa—sorry!" a voice called out. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
Ethan turned.
A girl sat at the reins, about his age—or maybe a little older. Sixteen, maybe. Brown hair braided down one side, practical clothes patched and re-patched, boots caked with dust. The wagon was small, piled with sacks and bundles and one extremely judgmental goat.
She looked… normal.
Which, given recent events, was deeply suspicious.
"Hi," Ethan said cautiously.
She smiled. A real one. Easy. No calculation.
"Hi," she replied. "You look like you've been walking since regret was invented."
"That… tracks."
She slowed the wagon to match his pace. "Where you headed?"
Ethan opened his mouth.
Paused.
"…Forward?"
She laughed.
"Oh good. Same direction."
They walked in silence for a few seconds.
Then she squinted at him.
"…You glow sometimes?"
Ethan stopped.
"Oh no."
The girl tilted her head. "System?"
He braced himself.
"Yes."
She waited.
Nothing happened.
No scowl. No sigh. No warning speech about destiny and broken wells.
Instead, she shrugged.
"Huh. Okay."
Ethan blinked. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
"…You're not mad?"
She considered him. "Are you planning to accidentally overthrow a barony, summon demons, or rewrite local economics?"
"I don't even understand local economics."
"Then we're fine."
[ ANOMALY DETECTED ]
[ HOSTILE RESPONSE ABSENT ]
Ethan stared. "You're… remarkably chill about this."
She snorted. "My uncle was a System user. Farmer-turned-'Chosen One.' He healed crops until the soil stopped working right. Ruined three fields. Never meant to."
"Oh," Ethan said softly.
"He cried about it for weeks," she added. "Didn't stop being human."
She offered a hand. "I'm Lysa."
"Ethan."
She gestured to the wagon. "You want a ride? You look like you're being held together by determination and minor healing."
He hesitated for half a second.
Then climbed up.
The goat stared at him.
"I'm not stealing your food," Ethan told it.
The goat did not believe him.
They traveled together for an hour.
Lysa talked about the road. About villages that tolerated Systems and ones that didn't. About how people didn't hate System users because they were evil—they hated them because things around them changed.
"Change is scary," she said, adjusting the reins. "Especially when you don't get any of the benefits."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"I don't feel powerful," he admitted.
Lysa glanced at him. "That's probably good."
[ SYSTEM OBSERVATION ]
[ THIS ONE IS PERCEPTIVE ]
They reached a crossroads marked by a weathered signpost pointing in directions that had clearly not been updated in years.
"This is me," Lysa said, hopping down. "Market town that way."
Ethan slid off the wagon. "Thanks. For… not hating me."
She smiled again. "Don't get me wrong. I'll hate you if you earn it."
"Fair."
She paused, then reached into a sack and tossed him an apple.
"For the road."
Ethan caught it. "You're the nicest thing that's happened to me since arriving."
Lysa grinned. "Low bar."
She climbed back onto the wagon, flicked the reins, and rolled away.
Ethan watched her go, apple in hand.
"…Huh," he said.
[ SOCIAL INTERACTION RESULT ]
[ OUTCOME: POSITIVE ]
[ CONFUSION: SIGNIFICANT ]
He bit into the apple.
It was crisp. Sweet. Real.
Ethan smiled as he resumed walking.
"Maybe," he said quietly, "this won't be awful all the time."
[ DO NOT GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF ]
Ethan laughed.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Wouldn't want to tempt fate."
The road stretched on.
And for the first time since arriving, Ethan didn't feel completely alone.
The market town announced itself before Ethan saw it.
Noise came first.
Voices. Shouting. Laughter. Metal clanging against metal. Something that sounded suspiciously like an argument involving poultry and personal honor.
Ethan slowed his pace.
"Oh no," he whispered. "That's a lot of people."
[ WARNING ]
[ DENSITY OF HUMANS INCREASING ]
[ SOCIAL FAILURE PROBABILITY: HIGH ]
"I walked through a village yesterday."
[ YES ]
[ AND WE ARE STILL RECOVERING ]
The road crested a gentle hill, and the town came into view.
Stone walls—not tall, but thick. A gate stood open, guarded by two bored-looking men in mismatched armor. Beyond them, a cluster of buildings packed tightly together, banners fluttering overhead. Stalls crowded the main street like someone had tried to fit an entire economy into one long argument.
Ethan swallowed.
"Okay. Rules," he muttered to himself. "Don't glow. Don't heal strangers without permission. Don't mention Systems. Don't accidentally start a cult."
[ ADDITIONAL RULE ]
[ DO NOT FIX INFRASTRUCTURE ]
"…What?"
[ TRUST ME ]
He passed through the gate.
One of the guards looked at him.
Looked again.
"System?" the guard asked lazily.
Ethan sighed. "Yes."
The guard shrugged. "Keep it subtle."
"That's my brand."
The guard waved him through without further comment.
Inside the town, chaos reigned.
A man shouted about turnips. A woman shouted back louder. A child ran past carrying something that hissed. Ethan narrowly avoided being run over by a wheelbarrow full of cabbages.
"Oh wow," he breathed. "This place is alive."
[ MARKET TOWN DETECTED ]
[ PRIMARY EXPORTS: GRAIN, WOOL, ATTITUDE ]
Ethan wandered, wide-eyed.
A blacksmith hammered away at a sword that looked far too heavy for anyone sane. A mage—actual mage—was arguing with a shopkeeper about the ethical implications of enchanted socks. A bard played something upbeat and entirely unrequested.
Ethan stopped at a stall selling trinkets.
A woman behind the counter eyed him.
"You break it, you buy it."
"I don't even have money."
She squinted. "…Then don't breathe near it."
Fair.
He moved on.
Hunger eventually overruled awe.
Ethan followed the smell of food to a stall selling skewered meat. The vendor, a heavyset man with a stained apron, looked him up and down.
"You got coin?"
"No."
The man sighed. "System?"
"Yes."
The vendor brightened. "Can you heal my knee?"
Ethan hesitated. "Is it injured?"
"Always."
[ MORAL DILEMMA DETECTED ]
Ethan carefully placed a hand near the man's knee and whispered the activation.
Green light pulsed.
The vendor gasped.
"Oh. Oh that's… that's nice."
He immediately shoved a skewer into Ethan's hands.
"Eat."
Ethan bit into it.
It was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
The vendor leaned in. "Don't do that in public."
"I know."
"Good lad."
[ TRANSACTION COMPLETE ]
[ YOU HAVE BEEN PAID IN MEAT ]
Ethan chewed thoughtfully.
"This economy makes sense."
He didn't get far before someone else noticed.
"Hey!"
A woman with a bandaged arm stared at him. "You healed him!"
"No I didn't."
"I saw the glow!"
"That was… reflective sunlight?"
She narrowed her eyes.
A man leaned out of a nearby stall. "If he's a healer, my back—"
"No!" Ethan yelped. "I mean—maybe later. Quietly. In a corner. With consent."
The crowd murmured.
[ ESCALATION DETECTED ]
[ RECOMMENDATION: FLEE OR BE ADOPTED ]
Ethan chose a third option.
He ducked into the nearest building.
Which turned out to be an inn.
The room went quiet.
Every head turned.
The innkeeper sighed like a man who had lost this exact argument before.
"System?"
Ethan nodded weakly.
The innkeeper pointed to a bench. "Sit. Don't glow. Don't fix anything."
"I wasn't going to fix anything!"
A chair leg snapped under a patron.
Everyone looked at Ethan.
"I didn't touch it!"
[ TIMING UNFORTUNATE ]
The innkeeper rubbed his temples.
"…One copper for soup. Two if you heal the chair."
Ethan stared.
"…The chair?"
"It's been a problem."
Ethan healed the chair.
The chair did not glow.
Everyone relaxed slightly.
[ NEW SKILL UNLOCKED ]
[ TARGETING: NON-LIVING OBJECTS (UNSTABLE) ]
Ethan froze.
"…I can do that?"
[ YOU SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO THAT ]
The innkeeper slid him a bowl of soup.
"Welcome to town, kid."
Ethan cradled the bowl, overwhelmed.
"…Is it always like this?"
The innkeeper snorted. "No."
"Oh good."
"It gets worse."
Ethan sighed and took a sip.
Still.
Warm soup.
A bench.
A town that hadn't chased him out with pitchforks.
Things hadn't gotten better.
But they definitely hadn't gotten worse.
And for Ethan Cole, healer by mistake, that counted as a win.