It's strange, really.
You can live in a world full of magic, surrounded by incredible creatures, enchanted forests, and floating islands—and yet what hurts you the most… are still people.
After months of sweat, blood, and too many broken bones to count, I finally started to understand the world I'd been reborn into:
Alvara—a continent where mana is everything, but morality is optional.
The Shape of the World
Alvara is massive. Divided into kingdoms and territories ruled not just by crowns, but by power. Mana flows through the land like blood in veins, birthing creatures of legend and turning ordinary people into walking weapons.
There are sky cities floating above clouds. Ruins older than written history. Forests that whisper secrets to those who listen.
But don't be fooled by the beauty.
Because Alvara is built on one principle:
The strong eat. The weak serve.
A World of Magic, and Division
There are ten primary elements: Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Light, Darkness, Nature, Shadow, Space, and Time.
Most people only awaken one or two. Mages, warriors, assassins—they all have a place in the system.
But then… there are Healers.
And that's where things get complicated.
The Healer's Burden
You'd think being a healer—someone who saves lives—would make you loved.
Respected. Protected.
You'd be wrong.
In Alvara, Healers are both exploited and resented.
Why?
Because their services are too expensive for the poor, and yet they're too weak to protect themselves.
Let me explain.
The Reason Behind the Hatred
Healers don't fight. Most can't. Their magic is for restoring life, not taking it. That makes them easy targets in the field. So when they join adventuring parties, many get abandoned the moment things go wrong.
"You're a burden."
"Too slow."
"Dead weight."
I've heard those words whispered behind Lia's back. And now I understand why she always walks one step behind everyone else, silent.
But here's the twisted part—
Since healers are weak, they need better armor, defensive tools, magic gear—things that cost a fortune. If they don't have it, they die. If they do have it, they're blamed for being too expensive.
So they charge high prices.
And I mean really high.
To the point where a commoner might sell their land, their livestock, even themselves… just to afford healing for a loved one.
There are horror stories—villages going into debt, people becoming servants or slaves for years just to pay off a healing debt.
And over time, a growing hatred started to fester among the people.
The Greedy and the Desperate
Not all healers are saints.
Some got drunk on power. On coin. They started charging a gold coin for a scratch, or refusing to heal unless paid upfront—even if the person was dying.
Those are the ones that gave all of us a bad name.
Now, when people see a healer, they don't think "hope."
They think:
"Debt."
"Greed."
"Chains."
So you have two sides now:
Healers who bleed the poor dry just to get rich.
Healers who want to help… but are used and abandoned like tools the moment danger strikes.
Neither side wins.
Why I'm Different
When I started healing adventurers for cheap—or sometimes free—they looked at me like I was either crazy or sent by the gods.
But I understand both sides now.
Healers don't want to be cruel.
People don't want to be indebted.
It's the system that's broken.
And maybe I'm naïve to think I can change it. But every time I see someone smile after I close a wound… I feel like I'm doing something right.
And the Church…
Of course, there's one more piece to this game:
The Church of Luminaris.
They control most high-level healing techniques. Guard them like a dragon guards treasure. To them, an unlicensed healer is either a heretic… or a threat.
And threats are eliminated quietly.
So What's Next?
I'm not strong. Not yet.
But I'm learning. Training. Fighting. Bleeding.
If I have to crawl my way up, sword in one hand and healing spell in the other, so be it.
Because if no one else will protect people like Lia—
Then I will.
This world may be cruel.
But I won't be.
To be continued…