Tutorial Rewrite 40 (Patreon)

<You have learned:

Oxygen Deficiency Resistance Lv.5>

<You have learned:

Regeneration Meditation Lv.7>

<You have learned:

Auto-Regeneration Lv.6>

And then, after some time…

<You have learned:

Salamander Healing Lv.1>

Is this what I think it is?

I open my eyes wide and stare at my stumps. There is no change from before. Alright, so it’s going to take a while, but that’s fine. Since it took this army 5 days at most to get to the forest, I should at least have a day or two to heal.

Right as I have that thought, the army’s march rolls to a stop. The sun is still relatively high, but I think we’ve been going for a few hours at least. This is probably just a break. Before I continue meditating, I push through a few arrows, including a few along my legs and arms. Apparently, having the arrows not be poisoned actually makes this slightly worse, because, apparently, the poison dulled the pain just a little. But this pain is still not too bad, so it’s fine. After around half an hour of pushing out arrows, a small pile has formed next to me. I stare at them, hard. Because pushing them out felt similar. Too similar.

I would be a fool not to notice that these arrows aren’t just similar to those on the first floor, but rather the exact same arrows. Same kind of material, same sort of design. Sure, most arrows look the same, but it’s a bit too similar for my tastes. Silently, I put the pile of arrows into my inventory, just in case.

To stifle the bleeding, I spend a few minutes meditating before continuing.

I resume pushing through the arrows and pulling out those that sit too close to my interior organs.

And then I hit a roadblock.

I—I can’t reach them. There are three arrows that are stuck in such a way that I can’t physically reach them. I can’t push them through either because they’re right in front of where I’m pretty sure my heart is. Either I pull them out, or I don’t. But maybe if I contract my body in such a way that…

Oh, I just noticed the priest is staring at me.

Faster than humanly possible, I return to my normal position. You didn’t see anything. You got that, gob-gob?

Apparently, my eyes are at least somewhat effective at conveying my thoughts, because he quickly resumes reading his book. Unlike the normal foot soldiers, he didn’t leave his post, which is interesting. This guy is weird. I still can’t see his level. I’m not sure what to think of him. And the easiest way to handle that sort of stuff is to just not think about it at all. Isn’t that clever? Hah!

I return to meditating, but now I feel more aware than ever that I’m being watched. As long as he isn’t watching some embarrassing part of me, I guess it’s fine. I guess it’s-,

<Curse.>

My eyes flare open. Hey, what the heck was that for?!

Still pointing at me with his ring finger, the priest shows an expression of deep focus and concentration, but I don’t care. If I had anything I could throw at him, I would. Not counting the stuff in my inventory. Or the fresh arrows next to me. This is more of a monkey-throwing-doodoo situation, you know? Not that I would throw that sort of-, okay, now I’m just talking myself into a corner. Back to the issue, why did he do that?!

He points at me again.

<Curse.>

And then again.

<Curse.>

<Curse.>

<Curse.>

<Curse.>

<Curse.>

<Curse.>

Dude, what the heck are you doing?!

I can’t even feel any effects!

<You have learned:

Paralysis Resistance Lv.2>

…Okay, so it is doing something, it’s just too weak for me to notice. Right, gotcha.

For some reason, he keeps cursing me for like, several minutes, increasing a few of my tolerances and resistances, all the way until the gem on the ring of his ring finger literally explodes. I stare at him. He grumbles what I think might be some sort of goblin curse before reaching into his little satchel and pulling out a small gem. He holds it up to the light, puts it back into the satchel, pulls out a different one, holds that up as well, and then puts it into the ring. Okay. Exploding rings is just normal here. Was that his engagement ring? Or should I not be worried about that sort of stuff?

I had almost expected him to continue cursing me, but when he instead picks his book back up, I feel strangely upset. My Seizure tolerance had almost reached the resistance level!

Well, good enough, I suppose. I return to meditating.

Once the sun goes down, the whole caravan stops and the goblins set up camp. The priest also goes away to help, leaving me alone. I just kinda watch them do their work. They are stunningly effective at it. I mean, if you told me they were just little people in costumes, I would be tempted to believe you. They are definitely advanced little gobbers. But they’re still my enemies, so it doesn’t really change much of anything.

Even if they have a king, which would suggest an aristocratic system of government, it doesn’t really change much, because it’s not as if I can just not do the quest.

An hour or so passes and the smell of food wafts across the simple plain they decided to set up camp on. Slowly, I inch over to the bars, as close as I can get to them, dragging my chains behind me. Sniff sniff sniff sniff. Mmm. Whatever it is they’re making, it’s activating my great values sniffer, because I can tell that the smell is going double. It’s weird. I wonder, before today, when did I last eat a proper homemade meal?...

Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff…

The door to my cage opens and closes behind someone and I leap back to my standard position. I wasn’t doing anything. Nothing at all. Nuh-uh. Nope. Just… being a normal human prisoner. Yup.

<Chain.>

There it is. Ugh, I really hate the way this feels. My body just completely seizes up. It’s less that I just can’t move and more that all of my muscles just flex completely stiff. It’s weird, and bad.

<You have learned:

Immobilisation Tolerance Lv.4>

…But it’s increasing my tolerances, so it isn’t all that bad, I guess.

A steaming bowl of something is placed in front of me and I have to physically restrain myself from willingly breaking the Chain spell to attack it. The second the priest leaves, I’m attacking. That’s what I’m doing. Hehehe. Oh, yes, I’ll do it. Hehe. God, I’m so hungry. I didn’t know I could get this hungry. It smells so good.

…The door hasn’t been used again.

Confused, I look up just in time to watch the priest take a seat on the other side of the cage, a few metres away. He places a bowl on the floor of the cage, alongside a spoon.

What in the world is he trying to do?...

My confusion must have been more obvious than I thought, because almost as if to prove his intention, he starts eating out of his own bowl with the spoon, taking little sips. And then he takes a piece of bread he had and breaks off a piece to break into his soup. It looks really yummy. I drool a little. He notices my gaze, and before I have time to look away, abashed, he breaks off a piece and walks over to me. He holds it out to me.

The chain spell isn’t active anymore. I can move. My eye hops between the piece of bread in his green hand and his face. His wrist is right there. Exposed. As fast as I am, I could quickly grab his wrist, claw it up, and then go for the throat while he’s too stunned to use any spell. Even if he used chain, I think I could break out of it fast enough to kill him now. He wouldn’t even be able to fight back. It would be over in less than ten seconds. He has the key to the cage. I could probably escape. If I take him as a hostage, they might let me go.

My gaze slowly falls from his exposed wrist to the piece of bread in his hand.

I take the piece of bread.

The priest walks back to the other side of the cage, sits down, and continues eating as if nothing had happened.

Gently, I squeeze the bread in my hand. It’s soft. Freshly baked. On the other side of the cage, I see him dip his bread into the soup. Slowly, without thinking about much of anything, I mirror his actions, dipping the bread and bringing it to my mouth. Chew chew chew chew chew.

It didn’t give me any tolerances, or increase any of my resistances. It didn’t hurt.

My eyes blur and something warm and wet goes down my cheeks but I don’t care about it. I dip the bread again, and I eat it. Dip, eat, dip, eat, and once the bread runs out, I drink the soup from the bowl. But I don’t choke on it, or drown, or anything like that. I drink measured gulps, I taste what I drink, and when the bowl is empty, and I’ve licked it all clean, I wipe the edges of my mouth with my wrist and put the bowl back down.

Looking up, I find that the priest had finished his meal. How long has he been watching me? Meekly, I look away.

After a few moments of silence, he speaks. I don’t know what he’s saying, or what it means, or if it’s directed to me or to the silence around us, but nonetheless, I listen. I put the words to mind. That’s the most I can do.

And when he’s finished speaking, he stands up, and picks up the bowl from in front of me, his bare neck mere inches from me, but I don’t think anything of it, and when he leaves and locks the cage behind him, I don’t think anything anymore, either. What’s there to think? I feel numb. More numb than I ever have been.

I’m almost able to respond before the door to the cage suddenly opens again, and the priest returns. He’s carrying a bowl of water and a towel and a small bottle of something green. Furrowing my brows, I draw back a little when he steps closer to me, and when he then puts his hand on my shoulder, I freeze fully. I can’t move. He didn’t cast Chain on me but I can’t move.

When was the last time someone willingly touched me?

The thought brings me back to reality just in time to watch him put the towel, water and bottle on the floor. Right as I make to draw away from him, he says a single word, which I assume is urging me to do the opposite. Reluctantly, I stay.

His small hands touch the arrows still stabbed into my back. I twitch a little.

He isn’t saying anything, but I understand exactly what he’s going to do, and somehow, he seems to know that.

I can’t entirely see what he’s doing, but I can feel him pouring whatever was in the little green bottle on my back. And then, carefully, more carefully than I ever have, he begins to pull the arrows out, inching them out so slowly I can barely even feel it, with such care that it hardly hurts at all.

<Cure.>

I can feel my own warm blood trailing down my back but I don’t mind it. I’ve got enough blood in me to paint a house.

But if only to help him along, I slowly close my eyes and begin to meditate.

One arrow.

Two arrows.

And then, finally, he pulls out the third. It barely hurt at all. Whenever I pull out arrows, I basically tear them out, gritting through the pain, but this was different. Gentle. Completely different.

I have no idea what to make of any of this. I feel confused, dizzy and almost nauseous, but none of my tolerances are increasing.

I can’t even repay him.

Once the last arrow is out, he dips the towel in water and gently wipes off my back. His mend combined with my meditation has allowed the wounds to mostly heal by now. And it didn’t hurt one bit.

After wiping off my back, he gathers his things again and heads for the door to the cage. And before he leaves, he says one final word. “Yat’nett.”

He leaves, locking the door behind him. And once he’s out of hearing distance, I mumble back, “Thank you.”