Arch 1: "Arrival at the new dawn."— Chapter 6: "Medicine."

The temperature was dropping with an almost imperceptible gentleness, like a whisper sliding over the earth while the sun —just moments ago a torrent of scorching heat— seemed to finally decide to calm its intensity. Little by little, the sky once again unfurled its clear, azure mantle, free of even the slightest cloud, while the air filled with a pleasant coolness that completely replaced the stifling mugginess of minutes earlier. That brief moment of rest, although welcome for the body, had stolen some of the precious time that never seems to be enough for anyone —not even for the adventurers of the region, who are accustomed to racing against the clock at every step of their journey. Even this universal rule applies without exception to two people like them, whose lives had rarely known the luxury of repose: between the multiple adventures they undertook each week and the countless activities that demanded their attention, the exhaustion felt even deeper when they remembered that every second lost could be crucial in their line of work.



The horses pulling the carriage had sensed that drop in temperature in the environment from the very first instant, and their bodies instinctively responded to the relief brought by the cooler weather. They relaxed in their harnesses, allowing their muscles to stop being tense from the heat, and each step they took on the ground was softer, more careful, as if they wanted to express their full satisfaction with that change. It seemed as though they perfectly understood the advantages of a day like this: the fresh air filling their nostrils, the way the sun no longer burned their coats—everything contributed to them moving with a grace they would never have shown in the hours of intense heat.



???: [—Come, help me carry the supplies.]



A firm and calm voice —laden with the seriousness that characterizes someone accustomed to making decisions— cut through the torpor in which Matthew found himself. The young man, who usually maintained a relaxed attitude even in complicated situations, felt his attention shift toward the source of the sound, slowly opening his eyelids as if struggling against a veil of sleep that wanted to keep him submerged. There, near the carriage, was the bearded man accompanying him: Varzgax. His gaze, as calm as always, was fixed in the direction where Tsumiya had gone with the old man, as if evaluating the situation from afar or simply waiting for the strange young man to return.



Meanwhile, Matthew remained leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, his back resting peacefully on the rough but solid surface of the wood, which offered the support his tired body needed. A slow, deep yawn escaped his lips, the result of the usual fatigue that accumulated in his muscles after hours of travel and activity. Without wasting any more time waiting, Varzgax turned around and headed toward the rear of the carriage; with each step he took, the axe fastened to his back emitted a soft but constant metallic sound, like a silent echo of his preparation for any eventuality.



—Alright, don’t be so boring...



Matthew said in a low and calm voice, almost a whisper that blended with the sound of the wind among the trees. A sigh of subtle satisfaction left his chest, as if he were accepting the inevitable task with gentle resignation. His blue eyes, though now more open, retained that sleepy gleam that so characterized his usual state, and he remained in his position beside the tree for a few seconds longer than necessary —as if he wanted to savor the last possible instant of rest— before standing up in one swift motion, with an agility that seemed to indicate that strength had fully returned to his body. Immediately afterward, he headed to the rear of the carriage to begin loading the boxes they would carry to the village.



In the rear section of the carriage —where Tsumiya had spent much of the journey resting to regain his strength after his unexpected arrival— the wooden boxes they had brought at Lyson’s express request remained stacked. Although the latches were secure and didn’t allow anyone to see inside any of them, the metallic sound heard when moving them gave clear hints about their contents: tools, weapons, or perhaps some kind of specialized equipment that the village urgently needed. There were seven boxes in total, each one of a size that suggested their weight would not be trivial.



Varzgax: [—I’ll carry the first four boxes... You’ll carry the remaining three.]



Matthew: [—Proposal accepted. It’s always good to take the easier path, don’t you think?]



Varzgax: [—Whatever you say. Let’s get to work.]



Varzgax replied instantly, his voice maintaining that same calm and firmness that defined him, without showing the slightest sign of surprise or annoyance at his companion’s obvious laziness. It seemed as though he was already completely used to Matthew’s relaxed and sometimes unserious personality, having shared enough adventures to know every nuance of his character. At the same time, Varzgax subtly placed his foot on the wooden surface of the carriage’s edge, gave a small coordinated leap, and climbed into the rear —more precisely, into the storage area where the boxes were kept.



Matthew, for his part, imitated his companion’s movements with a perfection that only comes from constant practice, instantly climbing into the same area of the carriage and positioning himself in front of the stacks of wood waiting to be transported.



Varzgax placed his hands on his waist, slightly arching his torso and breathing calmly for a brief moment, as if preparing his body for the physical effort to come. In that movement, his muscles subtly stood out in his posture, showing the strength he had gained through years of training and dangerous adventures.



Varzgax: [—After we finish this, we’ll go to Mr. Lyson’s house. We should check how the guy we brought is doing.]



Matthew: [—That sounds good to me. If we have time left, we could go to the tavern later.]



—No.



Varzgax’s voice was clear and firm, though he still kept his calm tone. He subtly closed his eyes for a moment, as if wanting to clear his thoughts before speaking, and shook his head with a soft but unequivocal gesture of denial. Matthew stayed silent for a moment, a slight frown appearing on his face as if he were a little confused, waiting quietly for his companion to explain the reason for his refusal.



Varzgax: [—We haven’t trained much lately; we’ve even been a bit more relaxed than usual. Do you remember what happened last week? We almost got lost in that damn dungeon. Besides, you need to be really careful with the Yildranks. They discovered us because of the sound of your arrows, but anyway... Those monsters are over 8 meters tall and seem to be made exclusively for killing. I still don’t know how we managed to escape that cursed beast—I thought we were going to die crushed under its claws. Fortunately, we managed to distract it with that stratagem we improvised at the last moment.]



Matthew: [—B-but that’s not how it happened. It was your fault. You’re always using that noisy axe. At least I can use magic at the most specific moments, and you know it perfectly... Even if it were my fault, we managed to escape in time. That’s the only thing that matters... Right?]



Matthew replied in a tone that revealed subtle nervousness, and an imperceptible blush appeared on his cheeks due to the embarrassment of remembering that situation. His mind returned clearly to the events of the previous week, when they had decided to venture into the dangerous dungeon with the sole objective of eliminating the Yildrank that was terrorizing nearby travelers—a plan that had gone almost completely wrong.



An amused look crossed Varzgax’s face, and a slight smile escaped him as he saw his companion’s nervousness. Without saying anything more on the subject, he slowly approached the wooden boxes and began arranging them carefully to make sure he could carry them without the risk of them falling during the journey to the village.



Varzgax: [—You’re right. The important thing is that we survived.]



Varzgax replied with his usual calm, and as he spoke, his axe emitted another one of those metallic sounds when he crouched down to move one of the boxes. Matthew stared at him for a moment with a somewhat confused expression, not used to seeing his companion being so conformist and setting aside his usual warnings about the importance of training and caution.



Matthew: [—Eh? Y-yeah, exactly what you said... I’m always right.]



Matthew said in a slightly calmer tone, though a trace of nervousness could still be heard in his voice. This situation made Varzgax let out a soft chuckle, as he found it quite amusing how his companion was trying to regain the initiative after being caught in his own contradiction.



—Then come and help me, young Matthew.



Varzgax’s voice carried a touch of subtle sarcasm as he continued smiling faintly and finished arranging the last boxes to begin carrying them into the village. He knew that the added weight of the axe on his back would make the work a little harder, but he was used to carrying heavy loads under any circumstances.



Matthew remained silent for a moment, looking at the three boxes that corresponded to him with a mixture of resignation and determination. Then, a more relaxed smile appeared on his face, as if he had finally managed to recover the calm composure he usually showed to others.



Matthew: [—Eh? Yeah, of course. After all, you still need my strength.]



Matthew said in a now completely calm tone, and his blue eyes regained that relaxed gleam that characterized them. Approaching the boxes, he observed them for a brief moment to calculate the best way to carry them, then crouched down to place them on his back, imitating the posture Varzgax had taken—who at that moment was already carrying two boxes in each arm and beginning to move away toward the village.



—Then move faster.



Varzgax replied to Matthew from the distance that already separated them. His firm and calm voice was subtly distorted by the wind blowing through the trees, but it was still perfectly audible to his companion’s enhanced senses—the archer Matthew Diolenski, who was accustomed to hearing even the faintest sounds in the midst of battle or the silence of the forest.



△▼△▼△▼△



The atmosphere inside the cabin was one of tranquility and order that seemed specially created for medicinal treatment. The medicinal herbs scattered in various containers emitted a soft and penetrating aroma, while the smoke from the fireplace—which burned with a controlled flame—provided a comforting warmth that enveloped the entire space. Even from outside the building, one could sense how pleasant the place was: perhaps due to the impeccable order maintained by its owner, or perhaps because of the gentle stimulant released by the aromatic herbs placed near the entrance.



Tsumiya observed the interior with a calm and satisfied smile, as if every detail of the place generated a deep interest in the things this new world had to offer. Although many aspects of his arrival remained a mystery: his unexpected appearance in the middle of the forest, the strange darkness that seemed to have transported him there, and the way he had been able to understand the language of his new companions as if he had spoken it since birth. All of this was unknown to him, but at that moment, the calm of the place managed to make him temporarily forget those unanswered questions.



Lyson: [—Come, young man. I want you to lie down on that mattress.]



Lyson said in a calm and gentle tone, as if he didn’t want to frighten the young stranger who had just arrived in his village. Leaning slowly on his cane to maintain his balance, he began searching for some aromatic herbs he kept stored in a wooden box—very similar to the ones Matthew and Varzgax were transporting at that same moment. The mattress he referred to was white, had a simple and somewhat cheap appearance, but was incredibly clean, and was located near a small table where some metal utensils were arranged.



Tsumiya: [—Alright.]



Tsumiya looked at the mattress with an expression that seemed to indicate he had remembered something, but his gaze quickly returned to being as calm as usual. Probably, being in the presence of someone he barely knew, he preferred to maintain a façade of seriousness and calm, far from the excitement he truly felt about discovering more about this world.



With a subtle and coordinated movement of his body, Tsumiya lay down on the mattress, feeling how his body adapted perfectly to the soft material it was made of. A small smile of satisfaction appeared on his face, as if the simple act of resting in a safe place gave him a relief he hadn’t felt since his arrival.



For his part, Lyson returned to his side with some medicinal herbs that, when exposed to the warm air of the cabin, began to release a stimulating smoke—whose inhalation helped calm the mind and relax the body. With a careful gesture, he leaned his cane against the floor and placed the herbs on the small table near the mattress, knowing that their effect would be fundamental for Tsumiya to fully relax during the procedure, which would probably last a few minutes longer than usual.



The aromatic herbs did their job with surprising speed: their scent invaded the air and began to penetrate Tsumiya’s system, acting effectively on his body and mind. It seemed as though it were a kind of natural drug serving as homemade anesthesia, affecting his perception and reasoning ability, though without leaving him completely unconscious.



«This is quite strange,» Tsumiya thought to himself. I don’t know what’s happening here. I’m not supposed to be here, in an unknown place with people I barely know. I’m really grateful to Matthew and Varzgax for bringing me here, but the first day in a new world is supposed to be the most important moment to discover my potential as a warrior—and later as a powerful hero, like I’ve read in so many stories. I even need to know more about this world: I can’t be a hero if there’s no villain to defeat, and I really want to obtain some special ability, or some powerful weapon that can make adventurer missions much simpler. If I could describe what it feels like to be anesthetized, I’d say it’s quite strange—not because of the weakness felt in the body, but because of everything this can imply in dangerous situations. Everything would be much easier if they gave me that cheat ability from the beginning, like usually happens in the stories I knew.



Even an almost unconscious and anesthetized Tsumiya could think in detail until the effect became more potent and constant, but at least for now everything remained quite calm in the most traditional sense possible. On the other hand, Lyson continued preparing some medicinal herbs around Tsumiya to keep the calming effect on the tense body of the young stranger.



The minutes passed in deep silence inside the cabin, where Lyson and Tsumiya fulfilled completely different roles: one as a patient who needed care, the other as the old healer who had spent years mastering the art of natural medicine. The herbs had fulfilled much of their function, and their potent aroma had even started to make Lyson himself feel a little dizzy, who was forced to take short breaks between preparations while organizing the tools he would use for the treatment.



For Tsumiya, who had gone hours without eating or drinking anything, and who since his arrival in the world had not been able to sleep properly, that relaxing environment had managed to temporarily suppress the need to eat or rest. Previously, his enthusiasm for discovering the unknown had managed to disperse those feelings of hunger and fatigue, but now, without that excitement keeping him alert, only the herbs were capable of keeping him in a state of deep calm.



???: [—I’ll start with the treatment.]



The old man’s calm and measured voice subtly diverted Tsumiya’s attention. Although he could no longer clearly distinguish the details of Lyson’s face due to the relaxation induced by the herbs, he simply nodded his head with a gentle gesture of approval, indicating that he could continue with the procedure. Even in that state, he felt no surprise at the idea that the treatment might include processes that were unusual in this new world—something that would surely have generated great enthusiasm in him if he were fully conscious and in his right mind.



For his part, old Lyson began placing several strange minerals on the small table where the aromatic herbs rested: some had a metallic sheen, while others were dark in color and had irregular textures. His cane served as support for him to move safely inside the cabin, since the experience accumulated over decades had granted him greater resistance to the stimulants from the herbs he used in his treatments.



Tsumiya remained lying on the clean white mattress, which had become his refuge for the special treatment against the bites he had received from the giant mosquitoes of the forest during his first day in the new world. His breathing was slow and calm as he watched with half-closed eyes how the old man arranged some glass bottles on the small table, each containing liquids of different colors that gave off even more intense aromas.



Lyson: [—Hiuldar.]



Lyson said in a low voice, almost a sacred whisper, while placing his extended hands near Tsumiya’s chest. At that instant, a small greenish glow emerged from between his fingers—a soft and warm light that seemed to transmit pure vitality. The calming light made contact with Tsumiya’s skin, covering him with a luminous layer that spread throughout his entire body.



(«What is this?»)



Tsumiya’s consciousness returned with force for a brief instant, and his eyes widened as he saw that green light flowing from Lyson’s hands. The strange glow seemed to calm him both physically and mentally; he could feel a comforting sensation, similar to the one experienced when one is completely relaxed after a long day of work. In addition, he noticed how some small cuts he had made the day before while crossing the forest began to close slowly, leaving barely an imperceptible trace on his skin.



(«Is this magic?»)



That thought was the last one he could process coherently at that moment. The combination of the medicinal herbs’ effect and the strange green glow made him feel even sleepier, until he was almost unconscious. It seemed as though the old man possessed advanced knowledge not only of natural medicine, but also of practices that went beyond what Tsumiya had believed possible.



While Tsumiya lost a clear sense of his surroundings, Lyson began the actual medicinal procedure: with precise and careful movements, he worked to extract the bacteria and any diseases that the bites might have transmitted to his patient before reaching the village. His gaze briefly fell on the strange clothes Tsumiya was wearing—designs and fabrics he had never seen in the region before—but almost immediately he returned his attention to the treatment, using the prepared herbs to enhance the effect of his healing magic.



—I think I’m going to take a nap...



Tsumiya thought internally during one last instant, seeing the blurry figure of the old man and the movements of his hands as he manipulated the herbs and minerals. Without waiting to see more, that was the last image his mind registered before going blank, sinking into a deep sleep that would allow his body to fully recover under the healer’s care.