The Gate Traveler-Chapter 51B5 - : Scars and Survival

Adjusting the IV bag, I checked the slow drip, injected a healing potion into the bag, and watched the liquid snake down the tube into the patient’s arm. The room smelled of sweat and sickness that clung to the air like a damp cloth.

Al strode over. “Please open the house; I need equipment from my lab.”

I located a wall invisible from the outside and opened the house against it. The moment the door solidified, Al disappeared inside.

When he returned, the sharp scent of alchemical ingredients clung to him. “What are you making?” I asked.

“More health potions and a laceration ointment for the whip marks,” he said without looking up, already sorting his ingredients.

I frowned, adjusting the tubing on another patient. “How come we don’t use those potions all the time?”

Al’s hands never paused as he measured a fine, greenish powder. “It is a question of benefit versus cost.”

I crossed my arms. “I don't understand.”

He sighed, finally glancing up at me. “The potions you obtained from Lis are the most effective for which I have a recipe, but they come at a cost. The mana within them does not perform the healing directly—it merely identifies the damage and compels the body to expend its own resources to repair itself. The result is a rapid and complete recovery. However, it is exceedingly harsh on the body. For us, it is manageable. For ordinary individuals? Those with lower Traits or lacking a class? It is devastating. You would see them deflating like a balloon.”

I grimaced, recalling how gaunt a guy had looked after I regrew his palm.

Al continued, shifting to a darker vial and pulling the cork free with his teeth. “The potions I typically craft divide the healing process. Half originates from the mana contained within the herbs, while the other half is drawn from the body's energy. This method is slower and less comprehensive, yet it does not entirely deplete the individual. The ones I provided you earlier, rely solely on the properties of the herbs. The herbs are the sole source of the healing. Unfortunately, there is a limit to the amount of mana that plants can hold, even when sourced from a world with a mana level of 51. However, because all the healing comes from the herbs, they pose no risk of overburdening the body."

He straightened, rolling his shoulders before setting another beaker onto the makeshift table. “At present, these people cannot afford to expend their own energy. Should they do so, it might result in their death rather than their recovery.”

Well, he knew what he was doing.

I moved through the clinic, stopping at each patient to cast Fortify Life Force. The soft glow of magic settled over the unconscious patients like a thin veil. Their breathing improved a bit, but their bodies remained still. Satisfied, I turned to Al, who was adjusting a vial on the nearby table.

"Stay here," I said. "If they start waking up, make sure they don’t panic."

Al gave a curt nod, focused on his work.

Stepping outside, I made my way to the inner gate. Thick wooden beams braced the heavy doors, reinforced with iron crossbars. Two guards stood on either side, gripping their spears.

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"I need to get through," I said, stepping forward.

The older of the two raised a skeptical brow. "Orders are to keep it sealed."

I exhaled sharply, gesturing toward the warehouse district. "I have patients over there. Injured. I need to check on them."

The younger guard, shifting uncomfortably, glanced at his companion. "We could—"

The older one shook his head. "You could be lying."

I fought the urge to groan. "Look, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t believe me, send one of you along. See for yourself."

Silence stretched between us, the flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows over their faces. Finally, the older guard sighed, muttered something under his breath, and waved the younger one forward.

"Fine. I'll open it, but he's coming with you."

Both of them lifted the heavy crossbars, the wood groaning as they pulled them free. With a final glance, the younger guard stepped out beside me, hand resting on his weapon.

"Lead the way," he said, his eyes wary.

Without another word, I turned toward the warehouse, his footsteps trailing behind me. The quiet of the streets made them sound louder than they should have been.

Inside, the dim glow from my light ball cast long, shifting shadows over the rows of sleeping bodies. The scent of stale air and the faint, lingering traces of blood and sweat filled the space. A hushed stillness hung over the room.

The guard behind me sucked in a sharp breath. "Where did all these people come from?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to wake them.

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I glanced back at him. His eyes were wide, round as saucers, darting between the mattresses and pallets of the unconscious.

"We rescued them from Almatai," I said simply.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his weapon. "Does the Lady know about this?"

"My friend went to inform her. She should be here soon."

I stepped deeper into the warehouse, moving between the rows of frail bodies. Their skin clung to their bones, the sharp angles of starvation clear even in sleep.

Kneeling beside the closest group, I placed a hand on the nearest chest, feeling the sluggish, uneven rise and fall of breath beneath my palm. I cast Diagnose to check for hidden damage. There were injuries, but nothing immediately life-threatening. It could wait—the man didn’t have enough reserves for a healing spell.

Fortify Life Force. The magic spread through him, faint tendrils of warmth sinking into wasted limbs. It was not much, just enough to bolster his vitality.

The women I had picked up in the city and the girls we had freed from the chains were in better shape. For them, I risked a single casting of Healing Touch, pressing my fingers against cool, clammy skin. Light pulsed from my hand, the spell giving them a much-needed boost.

The guard shifted uneasily behind me, his gaze flicking between the rows of slumbering bodies.

Halfway through the group, a faint stir broke the quiet. A hoarse, garbled sound followed—someone trying to speak through the weight of sleep. I moved quickly, kneeling beside the source. It was a young servant girl from the palace, her hollowed cheeks and brittle frame a stark reminder of what she had endured.

I placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and cast Fortify Life Force once more. A soft glow settled over her, sinking into her fragile form. Her eyelids fluttered open.

I smiled. "You're safe."

She jolted as if struck, eyes widening in sheer terror before she curled into herself, limbs pulling tight like a trapped animal bracing for a blow.

"Shh," I said gently, keeping my voice calm and even. "Don't be afraid. We rescued you from Almatai. You’re in Sanctuary now."

She stared at me, unmoving, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

I reached into my Storage and pulled out a piece of cheese, some bread, and a bottle of water. Setting them in front of her, I softened my tone. "Eat and drink. We will talk later. I have more people to tend to."

Leaving her to process my words, I strode over to the guard, who was still standing stiffly near the entrance. Pulling a table from my Storage, I set it down with a solid thud, then filled it with food and water bottles.

"I need to continue healing the others, but they’ll start waking up soon—especially the ones I cast spells on. When they do, calm them down and give them food and water."

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching near the hilt of his weapon. His expression was one of outright panic.

"Relax," I said, leveling him with a look. "You don’t need to heal them—just make sure they eat and drink. I’ll handle the rest. But I can't do it all alone. I need your help."

His throat bobbed as he processed my words. Hesitantly, he nodded once, then again, firmer this time, his grip easing away from his weapon.

I clapped him on the back. "Excellent."

Without waiting for a response, I turned back toward the sleepers, casting more spells.

At some point, Mahya and Roda arrived. They didn’t speak to me, just moved seamlessly into helping the guard calm the waking people and distribute food and water.

As I worked through the last ten or so patients, diagnosing and casting spells, Mahya approached quietly. She didn’t interrupt, but she simply waited until I glanced up before saying in a low voice, “We need more water bottles.”

When I finished tending to everyone, I straightened, rolling my shoulders to ease the stiffness settling in. Nearby, Roda and Lady Myrtus sat locked in an embrace, tears streaming down their faces. I had been right—she was her aunt.

I gave my Luck a metaphorical pat on the back and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Roda called after me.

"I have the severe cases in my clinic. I need to check on them."

She wiped her face quickly and nodded. "I will join you shortly."

In my clinic, everyone was still asleep. This time, I doubted it was the potions keeping them under—it was their ravaged bodies that refused to wake.

I did another round of Fortify Life Force, replaced some IVs, added potions where needed, and carefully monitored their condition. The servants looked much better—not healed, not by a long shot, but at least no longer teetering on the brink of death.

However, the two men from the dungeon were still in bad shape. Their breathing was shallow, their skin waxy and cold. They had a long way to go.

Roda entered the clinic, striding toward me with an air of purpose before pulling me into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she murmured.

I patted her back, a little awkwardly.

She chuckled, pulling away just enough to meet my gaze. “My aunt wants to beat you up for making them lose consciousness.”

I shrugged. “I had to protect the secret of how we did it.”

She sighed. “I know, and I explained it to her. Unfortunately for you, she still wants to beat you up.”

I let out a low chuckle. “I think I can handle a punch from an old lady.”

Roda smiled. “Do you need help?”

“Yes. More people to assist in the warehouse and more food and water. I have supplies, but nothing cooked.”

Before she could respond, Al walked in. “We will need more people—both men and women.” He set jars on the nearby table. “I made an ointment for the bruises and lacerations, but they will need help applying it. Next, I will brew mild health potions and need assistance distributing them.”

Roda nodded. “I will make the arrangements.”

That night, I spent every hour rushing between the warehouse and the clinic. By morning, some people from the warehouse were well enough to come to me on their own. A few even had enough energy to handle Healing Touch, which significantly accelerated the recovery process.

For the next two days, I treated people, catching short catnaps when I could. During that time, Lady Myrtus paid me a visit. True to her word, she did punch me—though there was little force behind it—before pulling me into a heartfelt hug and thanking me. She also mentioned wanting to speak with me once I had time.

By the end of the two days, everyone was back on their feet and healthy, except for the two men from the dungeon. They looked much better and, more importantly, their breathing had stabilized, but they were still unconscious.

Before finally getting some rest, I taught Rima how to manage the IVs and administer Al’s potion. Only then did I allow myself to collapse into bed.

It took another two days to get the men from the dungeon on their feet while juggling the regular patients from Sanctuary. But finally, after five long days, I was DONE.

To celebrate, I took a well-earned day off, leaving Rue with Rima to call me if any urgent cases needed my immediate attention.

I spent the day cooking, reading, and, most importantly, letting my mind rest. The past six days had been intense—from the operation in the city to the relentless treatment—but despite the exhaustion, they left me with a deep sense of fulfillment. The heartfelt thank-yous from everyone we rescued only made it even more rewarding.

I had made a difference where it mattered most, and that feeling was incredible.