Aziel followed Dr. Hana as she moved from bed to bed, a small, leather-bound notebook in her hand.
At each bedside, she'd ask the attendant, if there was one, about the patient's condition, noting any changes.
She checked pulses that were barely there, listened to breaths that were almost silent, and peered into eyes that seemed to see nothing.
Aziel assisted, fetching blankets, adjusting pillows, and occasionally holding a patient's hand steady while Dr. Hana examined them.
He felt a strange mix of pity and unease. These people were suspended in a twilight state, neither truly living nor truly dead.
At one point, Dr. Hana paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "Elias," she said, turning to him, "I forgot to tell you. Do you know… why they're all gathered here?"
Aziel, not wanting to appear clueless but at the same time not wanting to seem too knowledgeable, pretended to be making a guess. "Uhm… judging by their condition, they're patients with that necro-something syndrome, right?"
"Necrotemporalis Syndrome… yeah, that's right," Dr. Hana confirmed.
She walked towards the next bed, where an elderly man lay, his eyes flickering open and closed. He was seemingly in the first phase of NT Syndrome, but, somehow, still retained a spark of… mischief.
"You know about this disease, right?" Dr. Hana continued, her gaze fixed on the patient. "What happens to them after they come back to life, especially the magic users?"
Aziel nodded, recalling Blackie's explanation. "Well… I only know the basics. Magic users lose their magic, right?"
"Yeah, that's right," Dr. Hana agreed, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But it's not just about losing their magic—they can't manipulate magic at all anymore. Meaning, even if they try to consume another Mana Stone, it won't work."
As Dr. Hana continued her examination, the old man's eyes locked onto her.
He began to murmur, his voice raspy but surprisingly clear. "My, my… such a pretty young lady… Are you here to… take care of me…?"
Dr. Hana, unfazed, continued to check his pulse, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
The old man persisted. "You have… such… gentle hands…" His eyes followed Dr. Hana's every move.
As she leaned in to listen to his chest, his hand, gnarled and trembling, reached out, seemingly aiming for a casual touch.
The old man tried to grab her butt!
His fingers brushed against her, just barely, before she sidestepped with a practiced ease.
Dr. Hana, without a word, reached behind the man's head and delivered a sharp smack to the back of his neck. The old man instantly went limp, his eyes closing.
Aziel stared, jaw slightly agape.
Whoa… he goes straight into phase two, he thought, a mixture of shock and amazement flashing through his mind.
Dr. Hana, seemingly unaffected by her own actions, turned back to Aziel. "This is actually a really big deal because people rely on magic to deal with beasts, crazy beasts, and all the dangers in this world. But the weird thing is, there hasn't been much research on this disease… even though the number of cases has been increasing over the past few years."
Aziel, snapping out of his stunned state, tried to focus on her words. "Why's that? Maybe because people don't see it as a major issue, aside from losing magic power?"
Dr. Hana sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "Well… I'm not sure. Maybe. That's why, since we have patients here at Glenwood, I need to set aside some time to study this disease. So, there'll be a few days where I'll need you to follow me and help with this."
"Oh, okay," Aziel replied. "As long as you pay me"
They continued their rounds, moving from one silent, still form to the next.
After some time, their work at the hall was complete. Dr. Hana thanked him, and they parted ways afterward.
**********
After dinner, Aziel would usually head straight for his room. The day's work at the clinic, though not physically demanding, could be mentally tiring.
He'd go to sleep early. He needed the rest. There was something else he had to do after midnight.
Once the village was shrouded in darkness and the only sounds were the occasional hoot of an owl or the distant bark of a dog, Aziel would stir.
He'd check the small, rickety clock on his bedside table.
Midnight. Time to go.
He'd slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound. He'd tiptoe to the door, easing it open and slipping out into the quiet corridor.
Aziel made his way down the stairs, the wood groaning beneath his weight. He reached the back window, unbolted it with a soft click, and slipped out into the cool night air.
Glenwood was silent, the villagers all tucked away in their beds.
Aziel headed towards the northern wall, the section a bit further from the main gate. This part of the wall was less frequently patrolled, the guards preferring the warmth of the gatehouse and the occasional shared cup of something strong.
He reached the wall, a dark, looming structure of stone. He scanned the perimeter, his eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, searching for any sign of movement.
The coast was clear.
Aziel took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs. He crouched slightly, then sprang upwards.
Even though the wall was a good three meters high, an impossible height for a normal man to vault, Aziel's Miasma-enhanced body made it seem effortless.
He soared over the wall, landing silently on the other side, a faint thud the only indication of his passage.
He was out. He was in the forest.
The reason for Aziel's clandestine midnight ventures was simple, if somewhat unusual, to learn and practice swordsmanship.
Blackie had suggested that Aziel take up the study of Samurai swordsmanship.
It wasn't that Aziel needed to. He had the Samurai arm, a limb that could wield a blade with high-level skill and precision.
But the arm was a drain on his Miasma reserves. Each summon, each movement, cost him—not much, but it was still there.
And Blackie had pointed out that relying solely on the arm was a foolish strategy.
And so, Aziel had agreed.
Blackie would act as the theoretical instructor, drawing on its vast store of knowledge. Aziel would be the student, his body the instrument of learning.
He also could observe the movement of the Samurai arm whenever he was in doubt, his own body mimicking the limb, learning its rhythm, flow and style.