When the void found light

Chapter 6: The Mask of the Healer

The next morning, the sun rose gently over Eldewyn, spilling gold light across the cobblestone streets. Chris stood before the Silver Talon Guild, the largest building in the village, its emblem—a soaring eagle clutching a silver blade—etched above the entrance.

He took a deep breath. One Veilfire Cycle had passed. He’d hidden long enough.

If he wanted to live in this world, he had to belong in it.

He pushed open the doors. The scent of ale, steel, and parchment filled the air. Adventurers laughed, argued, and boasted over missions. Chris walked quietly to the front desk where a cheerful clerk smiled at him.

“New applicant?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Name’s Chris.”

She handed him a registration form—a parchment filled with spaces for race, origin, and class.

He stared at the section labeled [Special Skills / Abilities], and his chest tightened.

(I can’t write the truth… If they knew about the Voidedge Sword… they’d either hunt me or worship me.)

So he left it blank.

He filled the rest with simple answers—basic swordsmanship, field experience, no guild affiliation. Then, as he was about to hand it back—

> [System Notification]

“Desire detected.”

“Granting compatible skill based on user’s will.”

His vision blurred for a second, and a faint green light pulsed over his hand beneath the glove.

> [Skill Acquired: Heal (Basic)]

“A gift born from your wish to protect, not destroy.”

Chris blinked in disbelief. “Heal…?” he whispered.

The clerk looked up. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no,” he said quickly, scribbling the word Heal in the skills section before anyone noticed.

The clerk smiled. “Congratulations, Chris. Welcome to the Silver Talon Guild. Starting today, you’re an official Healer-class Adventurer.”

She handed him a small silver badge marked with the guild’s emblem.

---

Over the following weeks, Chris took on small missions—gathering herbs, helping with medical aid, supporting low-rank parties. He healed wounds, closed gashes, and slowly earned the villagers’ trust.

To everyone, he was Chris the quiet healer.

But beneath the gloves, the Voidedge mark still pulsed faintly, like a sleeping heartbeat waiting to awaken.

Sometimes, in the corner of his vision, the [System] whispered faintly:

> “Healing is creation. Creation and destruction are two sides of the same void.”

He ignored it. He just wanted peace.

Until one afternoon, as he was organizing supplies in the guild hall, the doors burst open—

a group of high-ranked adventurers stumbled in, dragging someone injured between them.

The crimson-haired woman.

Bloodied. Faint. Barely conscious.

Chris froze. The guild master shouted for a healer.

Everyone turned to him.

> “Chris! You’re the only one available—help her!”

His hands trembled. Fate had circled back. The woman who’d seen him as a destroyer now lay before him, broken and dying… and he was about to save her life.