Lesser Healing.
Being a druid had its perks.
. My arms were trembling, ribs aching from where the Aristocrat had slammed me into the concrete earlier.
My dragon form was gone, and so was the adrenaline.
All that was left was me: tired, battered, and desperately mumbling the skill I’d almost forgotten I had.
"Lesser Healing."
A faint green glow pulsed from my palm, seeping into the bruises along my chest. Warmth, then a deep pull in my gut like mana was dragging itself out of me with a crowbar.
The wounds knit... just enough to stop the bleeding, not enough to make me feel alive. It was like duct tape on a collapsing building.
But it would have to do.
I staggered back to base. By the time I reached the doorway, the smell of blood was thick in the air. My stomach dropped.
Seo-yeon and Mother lay sprawled against the wall, their bodies still but their faces twisted in exhaustion.
"Their mana had been drained dry" In-ji told me as soon as he saw me."Don’t worry about them they are fine".
I could feel it even without touching them.
Seo-yeon’s pale fingers twitched slightly, while Mother’s chest rose and fell in uneven waves. Unconscious.
Ye-rin didn’t look much better—blood streaked down her temple, her lips pale. She clutched her ribs, breathing shallow, and one glance told me at least two were broken.
In-ji coughed violently, crimson dripping from his mouth.
His gun hung uselessly at his side, his stubborn eyes telling me he wanted to help but his body was already writing its resignation letter.
The least injured of us all? Hyun-tae.
Guy looked like he had just finished a morning jog compared to the rest of us. Lucky bastard.
He was supporting Ye-rin, practically dragging her toward the building. Hana and Bak-u were already inside, struggling to lift Seo-yeon between them.
I found myself slipping into autopilot. In-ji grabbed one of Mother’s arms, I grabbed the other, and together we carried her inside.
My body screamed in protest with every step, but I bit down on it. If I fell now, she’d fall with me.
When we finally laid her down, my ears caught something—a voice. A faint one.
Young Da-e.
The girl who had been unconscious yesterday was awake, sitting upright with wide eyes that had seen too much too fast.
Bak-u crouched next to her, explaining everything in a hushed tone. The horror on her face said enough. She knew. She understood.
Then came the surprise.
"My... class," she whispered, holding her trembling hands out. "I’m... a priestess."
Light flared, pure and burning white. Healing. Real healing.
She went to work immediately, ignoring the shock on all our faces.
The magic poured into Seo-yeon, then Mother, then Ye-rin and In-ji. Unlike Mother’s False Healing—which had always been strangely gentle—Da-e’s healing hurt like hell.
Bones cracked back into place. Muscles stitched themselves with the pain of knives.
I clenched my fists so tight I thought my nails would snap. Ye-rin actually screamed, and I saw tears streaming down In-ji’s face as his chest knit back together.
Da-e was crying too, biting her lip as she forced the light out of herself. But she didn’t stop. Not until every one of us was lying there, panting, shivering, but alive.
Ye-rin turned her head toward me, sweat dripping down her forehead. Her voice was faint, raspy.
"It seems... my connection to Volt’s been cut."
She didn’t need to explain further. Her bond, her strength—it was gone. Another piece of the old world stripped away.
The silence after that was heavy. But it didn’t last long.
Because not all of us made it.
The sickly boy—Ha-joo
. He just... slipped away in his sleep. Not from monsters, not from wounds. From the sickness he carried into this hell.
No skill, no healing, no miracle could change that.
We buried him.
Give him a proper funeral, as proper as you could in a world like this. A mound of dirt, a few flowers, and words choked out through the grief.
Three days passed like that. Slow recovery.
Seo-yeon and Mother eventually opened their eyes. Ye-rin’s ribs mended. In-ji stopped coughing blood. We lived, we healed, we breathed. Somehow.
And then, just when we thought we could rest a little longer—
The light swallowed us.
We were back in the arena.
All of us. The vast circular colosseum stretched farther than the eye could see, walls lined with flickering runes. On the massive screen above, numbers burned bright:
199,348,110 survivors.
My heart sank. That was less than the previous mission.
Then the sky itself split open.
A figure appeared, blazing gold, radiating a presence that forced the crowd to its knees.
Helios. The god who started all this. His voice wasn’t loud; it didn’t need to be. It rolled through the air, deep and resonant, like the sun itself was speaking.
"Congratulations, Survivors. The Tutorial has ended."
The words were simple, yet they shook me harder than any monster’s roar.
"From this point forward," Helios continued, "you will have access to a Shop. Points may now be exchanged for items, skills, and resources of your choosing. Spend wisely."
The crowd erupted with whispers, gasps, frantic eyes scanning invisible menus that had opened before them.
But he wasn’t done.
"A new mode of travel shall also be granted. The Cosmic Train will appear in all corners of your world. Board it, and you may travel safely to any destination. But remember—distance demands a price. The farther you travel, the more points you must pay."
The air vibrated with possibilities. Cities, survivors, supplies—all suddenly within reach, if you could afford it.
And then Helios’s golden gaze swept across us, colder than the void behind him.
"The days of preparation are over. The true games now begin."
His words felt like judgment. Like a sentence.
I clenched my fists, my freshly healed wounds burning as if they agreed.
So this was just the tutorial.
Then what the hell was waiting for us next?