Chapter 62 - Distorted morals
Rygar was sitting at a table in his room at the Iron Legion base, completely absorbed in studying the Saint-level healing spell.
The pages of his notes were spread out before him, illuminated by the light of a candle. His basic knowledge of chemistry and biology helped him understand the principles behind healing magic. Unlike lower-level spells, this one demanded precise control—a mistake could result in improper regeneration or even instability in the reconstructed tissue, leading to greater damage or deformities.
He focused all his attention on learning, avoiding the dark thoughts that had been surfacing since his last battle. Time passed without him noticing, and when he finally realized it, 37 hours had elapsed. He was a bit mentally exhausted, but confident, so he decided it was time to test the spell, and he thought it would be safer to test it on himself.
Taking the bones of his own amputated arm that he had collected from the battlefield, he took a deep breath, holding them firmly. He felt the magical energy flowing within him, carefully shaping it before he began to recite the incantation:
"O sacred guardian of the firmament, herald of purity and restorer of souls! May your immaculate light descend upon this wounded body! Rebuild the flesh, align the bones, and weave life where death looms! Dispel the pain, expel decay, and restore the form to its original perfection! By the miracle of the heavens, may every wound be undone and life renewed! Holy Healing!"
As soon as he finished the words, a golden, pure light enveloped his mutilated arm. The light thickened around the bones, and then the process of regeneration began. First, he felt a deep itch, as if thousands of insects were crawling across his skin and thousands of needles were piercing his nerves. It was an extreme discomfort, but he remained still, watching in fascination as muscles, tendons, and skin recreated and reconnected magically.
The nerves reformed, sending uncomfortable jolts through his arm. Veins emerged, spreading like branches of a tree until they reconnected with his circulatory system. The skin sealed the regeneration, leaving his arm identical to the original, without any scars. Rygar moved his fingers slowly, testing their functionality. He still felt a slight tingling, but overall, it seemed perfect.
A smile formed on his lips as he thought of his previous world—where feats performed with advanced healing magic could still be achieved in the realm of earth—but regenerating limbs? That was something of legend in his old world.
Now that he had managed to master this magic, Rygar could someday teach it to his mentor. Not even Verdia possessed a healing spell of this level. That thought sparked a flame of pride within him, but it was quickly replaced by the reality of his responsibilities.
He rose and walked to the door, opening it. The corridor was silent. No one had disturbed him during his isolation. But that did not mean he could continue avoiding the consequences of his actions. He would have to deal with everything sooner or later.
Taking a deep breath, he called over one of the nearby guards.