Dungeon Miner Slave

DMS Chapter 204

"Old Millie, it's me, Reuben!" Reuben shouted as they approached the healer's house.

"Stop yammering! So that bastard Darkon finally let you come here to be treated?" an elderly woman shouted back as she opened a window.

From that exchange alone, Flinx realized that Darkon's reputation was truly terrible. The old woman's curse didn't sound like a joke—it was filled with genuine resentment.

Both Reuben's and Noman's expressions darkened as they remembered how their captain had prevented Reuben from seeking treatment.

"A few more hours and I would've died from my wounds. Thankfully, a powerful healer came by and saved me," Reuben muttered grimly.

"Why do you say you would've died?" the old woman asked, turning her attention to Flinx.

"My name is Flinx, and I'm a healer," he replied. "Reuben's wound had already become gangrenous."

The old woman's expression immediately changed.

She grabbed Reuben by the arm and dragged him inside the house.

Noman hurried after them.

Flinx would have remained outside since the old woman hadn't invited him in, but Noman looked back at him expectantly when he didn't move.

Shrugging, Flinx followed them inside.

The old woman immediately ordered Reuben to remove his shirt.

When he did, she froze.

There wasn't a single wound on his stomach.

"Remy told me a goblin skewered you through the belly," the old healer muttered. "He said the wound was deep."

"It was," Reuben replied. "It even turned green."

"And it smelled horrible," Noman added.

"There's no wound at all," the old healer said, glaring suspiciously at Noman.

"I already told you," Reuben replied. "He healed me. He's an incredibly powerful healer."

Then, as if only now realizing it, he rubbed his stomach.

"I'm starving. Do you have anything to eat?"

"You should feed him," Flinx said. "His body needs nourishment to recover the vitality it spent during the healing process."

That wasn't actually true.

The Heal spell was fueled entirely by mana rather than the patient's own vitality.

Reuben was simply hungry because he hadn't eaten for several hours.

Flinx just didn't want his healing magic to appear completely miraculous, as if it came without any cost whatsoever.

The old woman studied Flinx for a few moments before finally inviting everyone into the kitchen.

Judging from the conversation between her and the two guards, they were obviously quite close.

"My name is Millifred," the old healer introduced herself. "You said your name is Flinx?"

He nodded.

While she busied herself preparing food, Reuben and Noman exchanged surprised looks.

"Your name's really Millifred?" Reuben asked.

"Did you think I'd been called Old Millie my entire life?" she replied with a snort. "I was young once too, you know."

Flinx couldn't help laughing.

After they finished eating, Reuben and Noman excused themselves, explaining that they had to return to their posts at the village gate.

Once they had left, Old Millie looked at Flinx.

"So, why are you here?"

"I need to practice my healing magic," Flinx answered. "I plan to heal as many people as I can while I'm staying in this village. I'll probably remain here for about three days."

"What kinds of healing spells can you cast?"

"They're extremely powerful. I can cure any disease, regenerate missing limbs, and even restore hair if the loss was caused by an illness."

Old Millie looked doubtful.

Before she could question him further, frantic knocking echoed through the house.

"Old Millie! Gremor broke both his arms! He fell while repairing our roof!"

A tearful woman stood outside with two men supporting an injured villager between them.

The old healer quickly ushered everyone into the room she used to treat patients.

With her permission, Flinx followed.

Once Gremor was seated on one of the examination beds, Old Millie ordered everyone except Flinx to wait outside.

"Go ahead," she said. "Let me see these healing spells of yours."

The injury was severe.

Bones protruded from both of Gremor's forearms.

Flinx wasn't a real physician.

All he could do was rely on magic.

He first cast Prestidigitation repeatedly to thoroughly clean the wounds.

Based on the description of Heal, he probably didn't need to do so, but the thought of dirt and bacteria inside the wound made him uncomfortable.

Soon, not only were the injuries spotless, but Gremor himself—and even his clothing—were perfectly clean.

The man's face was twisted in agony.

Flinx didn't delay any longer.

He immediately cast the sixth-level Cleric spell Heal.

Old Millie stared in complete disbelief.

Both she and Flinx watched as the exposed bones slid back into place, knitting themselves together.

Muscles, flesh, and skin rapidly regenerated until every trace of the injury vanished.

Gremor let out a long sigh of relief before staring at his arms in amazement.

There wasn't even a scar.

"Old Millie... have you become a saint?" he exclaimed.

"I wasn't the one who healed you," she replied. "It was this young man."

She pointed toward Flinx.

"You can go home now. I'll tell you later how much you owe. And make sure you eat plenty today."

Gremor nodded enthusiastically before leaving the treatment room.

Flinx and Old Millie followed him outside.

The tearful woman gasped the moment she saw her husband.

She rushed over and frantically examined both of his arms.

When she and the two men accompanying her confirmed that every injury had disappeared, all three instinctively turned toward Old Millie.

"It wasn't me," the old healer said. "He healed your husband."

She gestured toward Flinx.

"You may leave now. I need to have a serious conversation with him."

The patients thanked them repeatedly before hurrying home.

"Tell me more about your healing magic," Millifred said after inviting Flinx into her living room and serving him a cup of tea.

"As I said before, I can cure any disease and regenerate missing limbs."

"How many times can you cast those spells each day?"

In truth, Flinx could heal far more than fifty people.

The only real limitation imposed by his transmigration system was the brief cooldown on his spell slots.

Still, he deliberately understated his abilities.

"I can cast the spell about fifty times a day."

"The main reason I'm traveling is to improve my healing magic. That's also why I don't intend to charge people for treatment."

Millifred slowly shook her head.

"That's a mistake."

She looked at him seriously.

"Anything people receive for free will eventually be taken for granted and abused."

"It doesn't really matter to me," Flinx replied with a shrug. "I'll only be here for a few days."

"I still recommend charging for your services," she said. "You should also give a portion of your earnings to the mayor. That way, no one will interfere with your work."

Flinx sighed.

Local politics truly seemed unavoidable.

"Very well."

He nodded.

"You can handle the payments. Just make sure everyone can afford treatment without burdening the poor."

"You may keep half of whatever is collected and give the other half to the village authorities."

Old Millie smiled.

"Then prepare yourself to heal fifty people a day."

She quickly left the house to spread the news that a powerful healer had arrived in the village.

According to her, the healer could cure any illness, regenerate lost limbs, and charged only a token fee.

It didn't take long before villagers began arriving in large numbers.

Most of them had silently endured their illnesses because they couldn't afford magical healing.

Now that Millifred had announced that treatment cost only a single copper coin—and that even lost limbs could be restored—the sick and injured came from every corner of the village.