As she cast the healing spell, the elf girl's small hand began to glow—soft, vibrant, and green. A gentle, living light radiated from her palm as her eyes slowly closed in focused concentration. Her breathing turned steady, calm. Around her, the air shifted.
Icariel watched in silence.
With his forever-changed vision, he saw the orbs of mana flicker and pulse—alive, reacting to her presence. Drawn in, bending—sacrificing themselves in tiny glimmers of fading light—the mana danced to the rhythm of her intent.
"So this is healing…" Icariel muttered internally.
He had seen it before—but now, he understood.
This wasn't a spell that molded or shaped mana like wind or fire. This was different. This was a spell that gave—a spell that required sacrifice.
And to someone like Icariel, whose only obsession was survival, it was far more valuable than anything else he had learned. More than destruction, more than attack. Healing was support—a lifeline. The only thing that could make death hesitate.
He didn't blink. Not even once. Every movement of mana, every curve of light, was absorbed into his memory. It wasn't about learning fast. It was about understanding completely.
Then, after a few heartbeats, the green glow faded.
The elf girl opened her silver eyes and found Icariel staring—his gaze focused right near her shoulder, practically dissecting the air around her.
She flinched, then blushed slightly.
"…That was it," she said, standing up and brushing off her clothes. "I don't know how much you could really see… I hope you activated the Spirit Zone. Otherwise, you probably didn't catch anything."
Icariel didn't want her asking further about his powers or telling her about the White Sense—or anything else he had. So he chose to lie.
"…Yeah. I have something like that," he said calmly. "I don't know what it's called… but I can't keep it up for long. It tires me."
"Aah. That's the Spirit Zone," she nodded, satisfied. "Using it without being taught is insane, though. So, did you see something useful?"
Icariel gave a short nod.
"When you cast the spell, the mana around you started to vanish. And as it did, the green light in your hand pulsed brighter—then disappeared."
The elf girl smiled. "Not bad. You really did see something."
Then she grew a little more serious, folding her arms.
"But that's only half of it. Now, I'll teach you how the healing spell works. If you understand it, good for you. But even if you understand it...Most people fail."
She averted her gaze slightly, her voice softening. "Healing magic isn't like other spells. It's not about commanding mana or shaping it. It's about sacrificing what the world offers—and giving it to someone else."
Icariel raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Funny. You were talking a lot earlier about respecting nature… but here you are, draining it dry."
The elf girl flushed instantly. "You—! Do you want me to teach you or not?!"
He raised his hands, grinning. "Just joking. Of course I want to learn."
"...Jerk," she muttered, arms still crossed but with a tiny smile forming.
The elf girl sat cross-legged, her voice calm and focused as she began to explain.
"To use healing spells… you need to be calm," she said gently. "Being calm when using it will skyrocket your success rate. You have to become one with the mana—calm, steady, just like the mana floating in the air around you."
Icariel listened intently.
"This isn't like fire or wind spells," she continued. "I don't know about those, or what methods they use, but healing… it's different. You're not manipulating mana. You're not controlling it or forcing it. You're… asking."
"...Asking?" Icariel repeated.
"Yes," she nodded. "When you try to use healing magic, you're not commanding it. You're wishing for it to happen. The spell manifests because you want it to—not because you shaped it."
She looked directly into his eyes.
"In simple terms… the healing spell is born from your desire to heal. If you're healing yourself, your desire to survive has to overpower everything else. If you're healing someone else, then you need to genuinely want them to recover. That wish must be pure. That's the only way the spell will work."
Icariel nodded slowly, repeating her words in his mind. "So… if I want to obtain and use healing spells, the desire has to be real. Overpowering. It has to be stronger than all my other emotions or instincts."
"Exactly," the elf girl said. "That's why humans have a much harder time learning it. But we elves… we're different. Nature blesses us. It listens to us without effort. We don't need those... emotional complications."
She said it like a boast—like she was flaunting how much more connected to mana elves were than humans.
Icariel didn't even blink.
He didn't care.
"Nice," he said simply. "What's the next step?"
She blinked, slightly thrown off by his total lack of reaction.
"The third—and final—step," she continued, a little more seriously now, "is the most important."
She leaned forward.
"When you use Spirit Zone… you see the mana in the air, right? You see the different colors?"
"Yes," Icariel replied calmly, as he thought to himself, "They are part of my sight forever now, and they never stop. Always floating. Always watching. Honestly, I'm sick of them."
"Good," she said. "When you try to heal, those orbs of mana around you… they need to react to your desire. You don't control them. You don't guide them. You let your intent—your pure wish—reach them. And when they respond, they sacrifice themselves to make your wish real."
Icariel frowned. "So... Step One: Stay calm. Step Two: Desire the healing—genuinely. Step Three: Let the mana respond to my intent and willingly sacrifice itself?"
He blinked, deadpan. "What kind of nonsense is that?"
The elf girl shrugged.
"That's why I said you'd probably fail," she said honestly. "We elves can cast low-tier healing magic even as children. It's… innate. We don't need to be taught. Nature flows through us without resistance."
She gave him a small, apologetic glance. "Sorry if it all sounds like nonsense to you. But this… this is all I can offer for now."
Icariel stood in silence, staring off at the flickering orbs in the air.
"Voice," he called inwardly. "Is it even possible for me to learn this? If there's ever a slight chance to learn this, I want it. It will really help me."
The voice answered calmly, without hesitation.
"Like I told you before, this is different from the spells you've learned. But the core principle is the same. If you grasp that… then yes. It is possible."
Icariel slowly turned back toward the elf girl and met her eyes.
"Don't worry," he said, calm and certain. "I need it so I'll definitely learn it."
She froze.
Her wide silver eyes shimmered in surprise—not just at his confidence, but at the feeling it gave her. She could sense lies.
And yet—she felt nothing.
No lies.
No hesitation.
Just truth.
Absolute truth.
"Then you can try while I go gather something to eat," the elf girl said, brushing her silver hair behind her ear. "I'm getting hungry from using healing magic… That's all I can give you, like I said. You can try now, and if it doesn't work, just go back to training like usual."
She paused, glancing at him. "Healing spells can be acquired the first time you try, the second, or even the thousandth. It depends. There's never a fixed point when one learns it. But remember—only a few humans have ever managed to learn healing spells through practice. The rest..." she shrugged, "they were blessed."
"Blessed?" Icariel echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," she said, almost incredulous. "Seriously—where have you been living?" She yawned and stretched her arms lazily. "Anyway, see you later. I'm going to gather food."
Icariel tilted his head slightly. "How do you know all this?"
She paused. "…My father taught me."
And with that, she turned and walked off, her steps light among the trees.
Left alone in the clearing, Icariel sat cross-legged in the middle of the forest, shirtless, the breeze brushing against his skin. His eyes were half-closed, thoughtful. Then, calmly, he spoke into the silence of his mind.
"Voice… can I imprint the healing spell into my body like the others? Or do I need to summon that strong desire every single time?"
The voice, firm and certain as always, replied:
"Yes. Once you successfully cast it even once, White Sense will imprint it automatically."
A pause
"But remember... to heal, you need a wound first, don't you?"