A lesion

Life.

A fascinating phenomena no scientist has ever been able to complete explain. Thinkers of old squished their brains trying to understand the magnitude of such an element. Thus, philosophy became an object of study in itself.

Metacognition.

Which thoughts will lead us to the trail of truth? Some branded their ideals as 'the path meant for everything that lives', while the others would point their inconsistencies in an attempt to sabotage their validity and increase their own.

Then, magic happened.

A new element was added to the realm and people had to find a way to explain it. Miracles channeled through the soul? Selfish illusions that affect the reality? The catharsis of elements beyond cognition that somehow manifested itself on the mortal plane?

Ever since then, many different types of magicians appeared as a consequence. Casters of wide range, scholars and theorists, servants and mercenaries. Many professions were born thanks to this miracle, carving a spot for magic into the very core of society.

That man used to be a healer. A researcher of virtue who would explore physiognomy at great length in order to increase the chances of recovery from 98% to 99%. No untargeted wide spells of recovery, no. No usage of mysterious artifacts, either. His call was to gain mastery over life itself… over that great unknown that would forever fascinate him.

The dark figure knelt.

"These scars… This lizard must have led a live of perpetual fighting. It's nothing short of a miracle he still breathes." The man murmured with apathetical eyes as his hands examined the injured lizard. He buried a finger into Ma'curi's corpse and extracted a grunt out of him. "He has more broken bones than healthy ones. The terrain is fractured around him… A fall from great height? Yet he still clings to life…"

During his young years as a brilliant doctor, that man firmly believed in one ideal.

By curing the lesions, we will be able to live as we were meant to.

'Truth' is a concept too grand to be comprehended by small-time creatures like humans, beasts or lizards. However, if anything, life was smart. It coded the very essentials of creation into their DNA, pumping them with the tools they would eventually need. To channel such a life, all it took was some faith and an unbreakable will to achieve one's goals. By following the heart's commands, life would manifest in the truest way possible.

The 60-year-old physician frowned. His dark baggy gaze fixed on the numerous scars on the soon-to-be-dead bastard.

"The idiotic man who used to bear faith in life ended up just like you."

The towering human pressed the tip of his iron boot against the corpse's side. It protested once more, clinging to life with every fiber of its being.

"Too bad for you."

His blood-stained glove reached his dark rectangular staff, summoning from a creepy diabolic demon face multitude of small daggers. The man grabbed one between the tips of his index and his middle finger.

Ellvern was not your usual healer, but a surgeon.

Ma'curi's screams could be heard from miles away, scaring every predator that entertained the idea of following the scent of his blood. Unwillingly, the brigand had mastered the art of enduring pain, yet he had no choice but to pass out from the intense trauma the surgery caused.

The doctor looked at his pocket watch and resumed his journey towards the capital, leaving the lizard to his own luck. Whatever became of the patient, he couldn't care any less. After all, what he just did was an utter and incredible waste of his valuable time. He grasped for the orb inside the red interior of his black cape. He half-grinned, but his eyes didn't express any joy.

"Ghh… Hm… Huh? I'm… alive?" Ma'curi grumbled as he fought to stand up, supporting his weakened body with his tail and a stick that he found nearby.

A sudden headache tormented him. Flashes and images rushed through his mind.

"Uugh! Who was… that human? Why… did he save me?"

He wouldn't find the answer to that question at that cave and, with his savior gone, that would remain true indefinitely. However, Ma'curi wasn't one to linger in the details. He made a promise.

"That human soldier… and that girl… I will look for you… and I will find you… and I will-"

His stomach protested that, instead of channeling his hate, he would do a better use of his anger by hunting something to eat. It didn't take him long to find the trail of some prey. Once he filled his stomach, he would chase his enemies to the bitter depths of hell if need be.

"So much life energy…"

Ellvern pocketed the orb, which showed him the whereabouts of his latest patient through an implant, and continued to enjoy his cup of tea at the capital.

The restaurant offered many expensive and delicious dishes, but he wasn't a man who frequented such places. He was there for business. His clients usually involved themselves with illegal activities. Robbery, corruption, drug dealing, prostitution… The worst of the worst also happened to be the most powerful individuals around… and they all needed his services.

Ellvern grinned as he tasted the rich aroma of his beverage.

Someone returned their cup of tea at the exact same time as him. Their eyes met.

A'misandra wore a slightly oversized nurse's gown like a cloak, surely because it reminded her of her aristocratic roots. As Ellvern expected of her lineage, the arrogance-distillate of 'grace' and the hypocrisy of 'refinement' were evident in her bearing and behavior. That woman probably couldn't imagine an agenda that didn't include teatime after a minimal amount of effort. Her white scales had purple spots and hints. Her tail had a shape that belonged to a special race within the lizardfolk.

The surgeon couldn't help a displeased grimace and looked away. That woman incarnated everything he despised as a doctor. An elite who had never known failure. A rich parasite who had achieved all her dreams by virtue of family and wealth.

"I didn't know this restaurant allowed vagabonds." A'misandra complained to a waiter who had no fault in the matter. "Do something about it or I will never return here."

A smile surged on Ellvern's barefaced lips. He wanted to tell her a few things about how the restaurant would be fortunate not to receive social scrap like her, but since he had the need to remain there for work, he chose not to unleash his tongue.

"It's no matter. I feel quite generous today, so I will save you the effort and take out the trash myself."

However, that woman couldn't simply let it slide. Her arrogance was too big for her own good. Depending on what she did once she got herself comfortable across the table, he might have to unsheathe something else. Nonetheless, it was all too soon to grab the handle of his staff. He felt curious to see what the pathetic lizard had to say.

The high lady studied the vagabond with disgust, as if the mere view was enough to harm her eyes. The old man of dark brown hair and even darker eyes looked quite full of himself. His dark robes with vertical stripes had a great deal of red hints. If he were a teenager, he would flaunt to be the edgiests of all. Rather than ominous, to her, Ellvern simply looked pitiful. She had to actively suppress funny remarks of how badly his beard suited him. The only thing she would admit was that the whole piece put together achieved to give off a minor degree of a dangerous appearance.

Still, it was hard for her to fear an outcast like him.

"I thought you were long dead. It's too bad you see you well and healthy." A'misandra lamented, peeking over to his cup and ridiculing his atrocious taste in tea. "Couldn't you do the world a favor and disappear?"

"I wouldn't be doing anyone any favors by disappearing. Tell me, how is your father's recovery going?"

"Incredibly well, not thanks to you, of course. As long as he has me around, he could never hope to need of third-rate quacks like you."

Ellvern wasn't a man who would laugh out aloud, but that was so funny he couldn't contain himself. Even the sensation of an earnest smile felt weird. After gaining every attendee's attention, he tried to keep his composure and regain his serenity.

"As I suspected, you do have some loose screws!" The nurse critiqued. "Could you just disappear from my sight?"

"Heh, I didn't hear 'please'. Such informality is unbecoming of a lady of your station."

"Do not test my patience: it's running low."

"Coming from a woman with such a short temperament, that IS becoming of you."

The highborn lady had to exert her self-control in order not to prove his point. As discreetly as a courtier could, she breathed in deeply and relaxed.

"Why am I even wasting my time with you?"

"That must be the first clever thing to ever exit your mouth, lizarda. Now, if you could stop bothering me and go away, I won't have to embarrass you any longer. I'm waiting for a client."

"At this shop? So they DO welcome beggars! Quite a disappointment."

The physician glanced at her tail wave as she exited the restaurant. Although he welcomed the peace, he regretted pressing her too much. She did alright for an appetizer before his clients arrived. As tasty as the tea was, the atmosphere was not his cup of tea. Besides, his employers were late and he hated the idea of wasting time.

Someone screamed from the entrance. "We need that outcast too?! You can't be serious!"

A group of gaudy people entered the restaurant. The nurse protested next to them with a displeased grimace. Ellvern rejoiced. Apparently, his time wasn't at all wasted if he was given the chance to torment, even if a second longer, that scaly ignorant.