This Healer Is No Saint (Last)

Alban wasn't very hungry after the whole getting his stomach smashed in thing. Although his vitality stat started to work its magic on his body, he still had a good hour left until the damage was fully repaired. He just sat there on the ground and watched the old nimm chief shovel barely cooked meat into his mouth. Classy. Wait, why was he even sitting here waiting for his body to heal? Wasn't that psycho gorilla a priest?

"Hey, aren't you gonna heal me up real quick...? That was the whole premise of our training."

"Don't rush your elders, boy. Of course I will, after my lunch break. I only said I'd heal you when we're training, I didn't mention anything about after. Are you trying to take advantage of me?"

Alban was astounded at the antics of the supposedly mature nimm before him. His hair was weathered and hoary, there was no way that Nimral could be anything BUT old. His face looked middle aged or so but Alban considered that pretty old for monsters anyway. There were only like 6 middle aged nimms in the whole of Nimrod, at least as far as he saw. The only part of the town he didn't explore yesterday was inside random people's houses. 'Speaking about yesterday, I have questions. Those marks on his stomach couldn't have anything to do with me, right?'

"Hey. Old man. Can you continue where you left off about these...markings?"

"You're not even remotely ready. How about you polish your combat skills before you worry about those markings, hm?"

"Just tell me what they are before I tell Miss Nimra that you're shoveling food down your face."

"Ha, you think my daughter would believe YOU and not me?"

Silence.

Both of the two men, savage in their own unique ways looked away at that moment. One in shame and the other in contemplation, it wasn't really hard to tell which was which. Nimral loathed to admit it, but he wasn't the most responsible person. From the little display the boy made yesterday, he was already way more dependable. His eyes leaked tears, his ego as a man and a father wounded.

Alban simply didn't want to look at that stupid old man's face any longer. He was debating the probability of how much Nimra would believe if he ratted him out. But it was the truth...but then again if someone is always doing something wrong it's a bit suspicious, isn't it. He just decided to wing it and see how much information he could get out of Nimral before he got beaten up.

"Wow...your poor daughter is out there hunting and providing for you, and you decide to just squirrel away food from her? I wonder how interested Miss Nimra would be about a "man's pride. I think I'll-"

"Shut up, brat. I'll tell you what you want to know so just shut that moronic mouth of yours." Nimral's back suddenly straightened up from its hunched over position. The air around him had completely changed, going from a silly old man to a solemn and venerable chief. Alban was now half convinced that Nimral was actually the leader and not just some doddering old fool that everyone listened to because of his seniority.

"It was a long time ago, maybe even hundreds of years. I traveled all around Nightmare, taking in the sights and searching for my place in the world. I came across a place where not even the moonlight could be seen, it was the deepest and blackest pit I had ever seen.

I was a pretty moronic teenager back in the day, so I obviously jumped in. Could you blame me? I could clearly see an opening in the ground but there was literally nothing else. As I fell in, my body was coated in a gooey liquid, but I could still breathe. I struggled and beat against the water, the liquid flooding my insides. I thought I was going to drown in there, it was probably the end for me. All the battles I had experienced ending in a pitiful whimper. I hadn't died before that and was kinda inattentive, so I didn't know a thing about Nightmare's revival rule. Right before I gave up, I felt a slimy tendril gripping my feet, pulling me deeper.

Suddenly, I could breathe. The liquid was still in my body, but the pendulous tentacle was pulling me down. It was a loose grip, but I didn't try to fight the feeling at all. I could only breathe while the sticky thing touched me. I was brought down to the very bottom of the pit, where I saw light again.

It was a very small light, just barely enough to see the eyes on the creature that lay before me. There was a faint outline of a human face that seemed to be clad in a wide smile. Then, I saw tentacles slowly undulate around the face, all stretching towards my stomach. All the liquid I had ingested at that point swirled towards the tentacles, leaving these tattoos as the fluid escaped. The creature then promptly broke my neck and killed me. That was the first time I died.

When I awoke right outside the pit, I could still see that wide smile. That viscous liquid, those clammy appendages. Not even thinking straight, I looked down and saw it. These markings that I felt pressing against my stomach were still there."

A long pause.

"Every now and then, I still see it. The figure creeps into my vision, unmoving. The next time I reached a threshold, I saw no other options that the class Fearful Priest. I selected it and it absorbed all my other classes. Now I'm only a priest, but I'm pretty strong. I haven't seen anyone else with these strange markings ever since, until I met you. Tell me the truth. Did you see what I see?" Alban patiently listened to Nimral's recollection of the past, trying to extract anything he could about the pattern wrapped tightly under his chin. The story was like a twisted bedtime story, it would probably inspire a deep fear in whoever witnessed the old man's recounting. Yet he couldn't feel a thing. Alban actually felt a sort of...familiarity? Arriving back at the question Nimral had asked, he just decided to tell the truth.

"No. When I picked a class, the fog on the Beach Of Infancy rushed towards my neck. I was pretty scared at the time but all it left were these markings."

Nimral didn't immediately respond to this, the air of solemnity around him still permeating the world around him. He knew it. Right behind him was one of those. He wouldn't outright tell Alban what he thought he was, however. Unnatural creature or not, the boy behind him had just left the beach. He was nothing more than a child in the world of Nightmare, and who was Nimral to judge him. He had killed many monsters himself, it was just the way how the world of Nightmare operated.

"I won't tell you anything more than this. The Beach Of Infancy doesn't change who you are. It only makes you closer to what you could be. Any change that happened to you wasn't a coincidence...it will happen again and again. Prepare yourself for this."

Alban was about to answer, when he caught the sight of Nimra a few meters away. She was out of earshot of their conversation, but it wouldn't be long until whatever they said would be caught by her pointy ears. He then noticed that the young woman had brought someone in tow. Nimral saw it too.

"Chiyo? What are you still doing here, the festival's over. Did anything important happen?"