Rules of Biomancy: A LitRPG Healer Fantasy

Jack clicked his tongue for the third time in the past hour, as another attempt at scrubbing off the yellow stains on the table failed spectacularly. His arm was starting to hurt, his back was complaining about him leaning forward in the same position for so long, and the only thing he had to show for it all was a more evenly yellow table.

“I’ve got no clue how that old man could do this himself,” Jack commented as he put the used rag down into the bucket again, letting the new liquid remove the coloring on the cloth. At least it could lose the stains somewhat after all this effort. “You still having fun standing there or do you wanna help?”

Sasha replied in the same way she’d done the past ten times he tried to strike up a conversation. Pure silence, alongside those empty eyes just staring at him. He’d been able to get a few words out of her back when they’d been in the room this morning, but ever since then, she’d barely said any words at all.

He wasn’t sure why that was the case, honestly, but Jack didn’t bother trying to get her to talk too much. Some people wanted to be quiet, some wanted to talk, and some wanted to listen. Being forced outside of your normal category rarely ended well.

As he completed the fourth washing of the rag and started up his efforts once again, though, his tongue felt the itch to start moving once again.

“You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do something like this,” Jack commented, pressing down hard on a small chunk of the yellow powder that had been able to gather together enough that he could pry it off. “Not even the first time in the past week, if you’d believe it.”

A non-committal sound came in reply, making him pause for a moment before continuing. It was closer to a grunt than any word but it was a response to his words regardless. A conversation, if the term was being stretched a little.

And with his bored mind desperate for something other than just scrubbing the stuff around here clean, Jack latched onto it.

“I’d been in a bit of a jam lately, trying to find a new apartment after the last one… uh, wasn’t an option anymore,” Jack continued, suddenly unsure about what to really reveal. “Money trouble and all, you know? Anyway, I found this surprisingly cheap place just a few miles away from the city. Water and electricity worked fine, the rent was incredibly cheap, but the furniture wasn’t something you’d wanna touch with your bare hand, and the place hadn’t been touched in a good half year. I was given the keys on the spot, but I had to spend a full day just cleaning the living room to get it to a point where I could breathe inside without a mask. Not a fun task, I’ll tell you that.”

“Is that why you limp?”

Wait.

“Huh?” Jack said, his mouth working faster than his brain as he looked up from his work and saw Sasha standing right beside him.

Eight months ago, he would’ve reacted properly and attempted to distance himself. Now, Jack got halfway through the process of lowering his center of gravity and retreating, before he felt the reason why he lost his job three months ago.

As his left heel hit the ground hard, his nerves responded by sending a flare of pain through his body. What felt like molten metal filled the limb, and Jack could only grit his teeth as he focused on staying upright.

In the meanwhile, Sasha just looked on unimpressed, eyes passively studying the frailness. Jack hated it, but he could do nothing about it.

“I thought I hid it well,” he finally said, as his body calmed down and the pain receded once again. It’s frustrating that it had to come back now out of all possible times. Jack had been making sure not to put pressure on the leg in the wrong way, yet a moment distracted was all it took to nearly be crippled by the messed-up nerves. “What gave it away?”

“You walked down the stairs weirdly,” Sasha replied. No judgment was present in her voice, surprisingly. “And you didn’t use your left leg when bending down to clean the rag. You’re injured.”

“An injury from when we got here,” Jack tried.

“You would’ve complained about it to the others like you did with all the other bruises you had left,” came the instant retort. “You’ve been injured for long enough that it’s in your muscle memory. So why do you limp?”

…

Jack wasn’t a fan of this. He was in another world right now, a place that shouldn’t exist but did anyway just because. He was in a place with magical plants, magical beings, magic that you could use, and, despite all of that, the flaws of the past world just had to drag itself over with him.

And you can’t do anything about it, so you just have to accept it.

That’s what the mandated physical therapist had told him before he was given the green light and made to move along. Despite whatever fancy technology the old world had been able to produce, there was no bringing back rotted nerves and muscle tissues.

“You can blame the IED that was lucky enough to detonate under our car,” Jack confessed, a few glimpses of the moment running back through his mind. Just an ordinary drive to go gauge rifles on another site along the regularly searched route. “I was relatively lucky as well, honestly. The underside didn’t handle the blast well, molten shrapnel flew right through some of us, and… I was on the side furthest away. Nothing but my left leg was hit, though it took quite a hit regardless.”

…

“Sounds painful.”

Yet again, there was no judgment. No empathy either, which Jack wasn’t sure what to feel about, but at least it was better than those sad faces who’d looked at him when he got sent home.

“It was,” he confirmed. “Annoying as well. The injury could’ve been less serious, but the time it took to do much about the damage meant that some infection had been able to hide above the knee. Went from being able to walk without a problem to using a cane for half a year. I’m technically meant to keep using it, but… I can’t say I fit the age group.”

Sasha looked at him for a few seconds more, waiting to see if there was more to hear, before just walking back to her previous spot and lounging yet again.

Strange.

“You don’t want to comment on anything else?” Jack questioned, knowing he was back to square one when those blank eyes just stared at him. “Aren’t there any questions you’re just dying to get answered?”

“No,” Sasha replied with her regular bluntness.

“Well… I’m not a fan of the silence, so you’re gonna just have to listen anyway,” Jack commented, getting an eye-roll for his efforts. It didn’t matter to him, though. If he’d gone this far in explaining his past, he could at least give a fuller picture. “The reason for me even being out in a place that had explosives on the road is because I was a small arms repairman in the military. Been in that role for a whole two years, not including the basic courses I needed to get there. Annoying, but it was whatever. Paid well enough, I got food, had a roof over my head, and the smell could’ve been worse. And all of this just had the cost of me sitting on my ass, fixing weapons that others had been too stupid to handle properly.”

That got a snort out of her, which made Jack grin. So there was some form of emotion behind that brick wall that was her face.

“When I got deployed, I just assumed it was more of that,“ he continued. “And… it was. Temp was a bit higher than I’d liked, I had to move between bases sometimes, and I had to learn how to exclusively breathe through my mouth when going to the toilets, but, again, it was better than nothing. Food was still there, pay was pushed up a little, and I just had to survive that for a few months.”

…

Moments were spent remembering it all, remembering how it had been. He’d been happy with the job, happy to learn about the weapons, happy to mess around with the stuff gathering dust, and happy to assist even the dumbest of soldiers with their ineptitude. It had been something he would’ve kept up for years if allowed, but that just hadn’t happened.

“How long were you deployed?” Sasha asked when Jack grew silent. Even when she’d just been cleaning her nails idly, the lack of his voice had seemingly been enough for her to add her own.

“Just a few days away from a full month,” he replied. “I never saw action outside of that one time. Annoying, since it would’ve been able to get me some better disability pay after I got kicked out, but it is what it is.”

“You just accepted that you were weak after that?”

And there was the judgment. Jack had been wondering when it would come around.

“Harsh,” he commented, looking her over. They had to be around the same age. “You have some history you want to share?”

“No, I do not.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

Jack forced down the anger that had bubbled up, closing his eyes for a moment to concentrate. His blood was flowing hard enough that he could hear the pulsing in his heart, could feel the rush in his arms, and that dull ache steadily started up in his leg. Every moment just had to include it, didn’t it?

Calm down and think rationally. Anger won’t solve anything.

Another lesson, this time from his dad. Not the right time for either of them to say those words and mean them, but the hours after that exchange had made the words true regardless.

Best to move on. Forgiveness isn’t a weakness.

“My career of repairing small arms didn’t start when I joined the military, by the way,” Jack added when he knew his voice would sound like it’d done before the last exchange. “Actually started when I was around… I want to say six. Not the first time I touched a pistol, but the first time I knew how to take it apart and put it back together. Everything before that was just poor craftsmanship.”

“A kid toying around with guns?” Sasha commented, a single eyebrow getting raised as he nodded. “You fit the American stereotype well.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, I see,” came the instant retort. “But I promise that wasn’t the standard around where I was. I just had the privilege of having parents that owned a gun shop.”

“A lack of oversight then.”

“I like to call it trust,” Jack corrected. Another dignified snort left Sasha at the words. “But… I won’t deny there were safety concerns. The state certainly thought so, when they came around and shut the place down. I was seventeen at that point, so it had been open for some twenty years, but still.”

A warm smile grew on his face as the fond times returned yet again. It was a miracle that they hadn’t been given hundreds of lawsuits, with how much leniency there had been.

Oh right.

The rag was starting to lose all its original coloring again, prompting him to move over and wash it for a fourth time.

“Is that why you joined the military?” Sasha asked, to which Jack nodded. He strained the water from the cloth as best as he could before getting back up again. “I figured.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Jack admonished, throwing the rag her way. She barely looked its way, grabbing it with her left hand before dropping it on the table.

Wasn’t she right-handed?

“Stop tiring yourself cleaning stupidly,” Sasha said before he could take the rag and start again. “The color won’t disappear without something stronger than old water. The only thing you’re doing is damaging the table.”

Looking at the wooden surface, Jack wasn’t happy at the splinters that were already sticking up around the edges. There’d been quite a few when he had started, but he wouldn’t deny that a few more had popped up after he began.

“Fair enough,” he relented, putting down the rag and mirroring her pose. His body thanked him for it, as leaning against something removed the pressure from his spine by just the right amount. “Got any ideas on what to do instead then? Chances are we’ll be here for another few hours.”

“Wait patiently without making noise,” Sasha rudely suggested, though it was perhaps more meant as an order. “Even you should know the perks of not being discovered unintentionally.”

Yet again, he couldn’t deny her claims. Sitting around doing nothing was the smartest thing he could do. Silence meant less chance of some random person wandering in and investigating, even if the chance of that was already so incredibly low. They were inside the back part of a shop, inside a room that possessed surprisingly high-quality noise insulation, and the area around them was prone to emit various sounds by themselves.

Jack certainly couldn’t imagine that the giant golden flower sitting on one of the side tables could be silent for long.

Wait…

“Wasn’t this one like a head shorter when we came in here?” Jack questioned, as he walked over to inspect the shiny plant. Back when he’d initially inspected and moved on from the flower, it had gone to just below his chest. Now the top petals were as high up as his eyes. “Oh, shit, it’s moving as well.”

It was subtle, impossible to really see when he was far away, but the flower seemed to move just slightly. Outside, he’d attribute it to an unfelt wind, but there was nothing of the sort in here. There were only his and Sasha’s still forms, both overlooking the strange plant.

And when he raised his hand to feel those golden petals, he noticed another quirk. When he was a palm’s width away from the plant, it began to approach him as well.

“You think it’s dangerous to touch?” Jack asked. He was curious as to how the fuzzy-looking petals felt, but the warning about the purple flowers in the other room made him a little cautious about anything acting too abnormally.

“You’ve been cleaning up the dust prints from the plant for the past forty minutes,” Sasha replied. “If you’d die from touching it, you would’ve been on the floor already.”

“How comforting to hear,” he muttered. Still, it was enough logic for him to trust that the plant wouldn’t kill him at mere touch.

Slowly raising his left hand again, he moved it towards the golden petals. Like before, the plant began to mirror his movement, bending a little so the center of the top flower reached his fingers first. Was that a sign of sentience? Jack had no idea, but it was cool regardless.

And as the plant and his fingers reached each other, he felt it.

It being the sheer fucking amount of dust that a single touch could cause. Even as Jack instantly pulled back his hand once again, it was too late. The damage was done, the skin on the lower arm turned golden and sparkly from the… pollen? Whatever it was, it was incredibly effective at covering both the arm and a good chunk of the side table that the flower was standing on.

“Shouldn’t have touched it,” Sasha commented. She’d wisely taken three steps back to avoid the onslaught of gold in the air.

Betrayal.

“And you’re just saying this now?” Jack asked, trying to wipe away the powder with his right hand before immediately regretting it. Instead of solving the problem, he just turned more of his skin golden. “That Elijah fellow better come back in here soon, because there is no way I’m getting this off without whatever cleaning supplies he has hidden somewhere.”

For now, however, the damage was done, his forearms being entirely covered in the stuff. Frustration started to grow in his body because of it, though it didn’t last too long as unrelenting curiosity barreled forward a few seconds later.

As he felt the gold-infested skin, Jack realized how stupidly smooth it felt. Years out in the sun had turned the surface rough and spotted, yet… it all seemed to vanish in the span of two minutes.

Is that good or very bad?

Seeing as he wasn’t dead on the floor, Jack decided to see it as an overall positive. While he wasn’t dedicated to skincare routines like others his age who had slowly warmed up to the idea, he could respect the results of this regardless. Looking a little more youthful never hurt anybody.

…

Grabbing one of the empty cups on the table, Jack started pushing the dust on the side table together into one big pile before transferring as much as he could to his container of choice.

“Should I ask?” Sasha inquired.

“Just saving it for the future,” Jack replied. He got an unimpressed look as he crouched down and took the largest groups on the floor as well. “The plant must have some usefulness if it’s in here, so why not gather up what it dropped? And this does also count as cleaning, so I’m just doing as requested.”

“... Right.”

Jack ignored the tone as he picked up the last worthwhile amount. If he had the proper tools he could’ve gotten most of the rest, but he couldn’t imagine this place hiding a bench scraper.

“This isn’t my first time doing something like this either, you know?” Jack added as he put the cup onto the table before promptly sticking a finger into the mix. “Back during the time when my parents still had the shop, we had a habit of taking bullet cartridges and emptying them of the powder. Really potent stuff, and something you shouldn’t handle without some good gloves.”

“And your family forgot to wear some?”

“My parents always wore them,” Jack corrected. “I… was not as smart. Only messed up once, though. Spilled half a bucket of the stuff while moving it around. Used my hands to shovel most of it back up. Not very smart, I’ll tell you that. My skin turned so red I looked sunburnt for days.”

Even now, though, Jack could still remember how it was messing around with that material. Most of it had ended up as powder after so many months of sitting around, but the fresh stuff had been so weird, closer to incredibly small pellets rather than any true powder. Rougher than sand but not that far off.

And the coloring as well…

When Jack pressed his mind and imagined it, he could almost feel that sensation again, that half-burning smell that went all the way into his lungs. Likely toxic and cancerous in nature, but it brought a sense of nostalgia regardless. It was a piece of his old home, and he cherished it.

Wait. I can feel it.

Bringing out the finger from the cup, he turned it around to see the tip of the digit covered in black instead of the gold there seconds before.

“Strange,” Jack said, bringing it to his nose and inhaling the scent. His eyes widened as the smell was just as he remembered. “Hodgdon, my beloved, you can’t be real.”

“Did the flower have some psychedelic effects or are you usually like this?” Sasha asked, to which Jack just replied by pointing the black finger in her direction. “What is that?”

“Gunpowder, just like what the founding fathers wanted it to be,” Jack answered. His pulse was quickening. “By the potency of smell, it’s recently made as well. It’s… Do you know what gunpowder smells like? I also need to make sure that the flower didn’t have any mind-bending stuff hidden in it somewhere.”

Sasha took a step back with a firm rejection of that idea, which was fair but also not. Jack could feel the excitement and mild fear rushing to his head as he considered the possibilities. His finger had just been covered in a type of magical golden powder that made his skin feel smooth, before he then fondly imagined the experience of picking up gunpowder in his youth, and then having that same type of gunpowder manifest where the pollen had previously been sitting.

Crazy, not meant to be possible, but it was at least partly nitrocellulose currently covering the finger, so he had to look at the facts.

…

How the fuck did I open up that menu thing again?

Jack had done it the night before within just a few dozen seconds, but that had been while being in a much more calm emotional state. His heart was running a mile a minute at the moment and focusing on finding that third eye wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

But then something just clicked, a well of sensation not experienced before flooding through his mind, and then Jack could see.

Name: Jack Larson

Affinity: Metamancy

Mana: 79

Spells:

[Transmute Powder](Tier 1)

The status screen, or whatever he was meant to call it, had been empty of everything but his name when he’d last looked at it, yet… it wasn’t so anymore. He had an Affinity, and he had a certain amount of Mana left inside him. Was the Affinity a good one? Was the amount of Mana healthy? Who the fuck gave a shit.

He had an Affinity. He had Mana, a quantified unit of magical energy, inside of him.

Jack was, by all credible standards, a wizard.

As logic would dictate, it was impossible to keep this revelation inside himself.