What a weird spell, Isaac thought as he stared at the volcanic craters on the back of Mac’s calves.

  Then, two more craters formed on Mac’s elbows. Lava spat out of them, launching him into the air.

  Isaac’s eyes followed him as he flew up.

  “Zakiah!” Mac shouted.

  “On it!” Zakiah raised a thumbs up and then extended both hands with open palms. He pushed the tips of the corresponding fingers of each hand together, activating a spell.

  A wall of the whitest snow Isaac had ever seen appeared out of thin air behind Zakiah, covering the entire half of the hall.

  Zakiah pulled his hands away from each other, and the snow blasted forward.

  Pure white took over Isaac’s vision as the barrage of snow and ice swept him away. Along with the avalanche, he crashed through the side of the Avalokiteshvara Hall.

  While dragged along in the rushing mass of snow, the momentum had Isaac shoot into the air like a cannon. Below him, an Olympic-worthy snow ramp formed, and then he looked up to see Zakiah appear over him… with a snowboard.

  The underside of the snowboard was detailed with angelic sigils, and he had one hand on the middle of the board between his feet as he spun easily, nearing Isaac.

  Isaac was hit across the face with the edge of the board. After another 180, Zakiah pressed the end of his snowboard against Isaac’s cheek as they fell toward the snow ramp.

  The lip of the snow ramp was used as a grind rail. With a board pressed onto one side of Isaac’s cheek and the other sliding across the edge of the ramp’s top, skin broke, and a stream of blood and snow sprayed behind him.

  The wake-up call had Isaac teleport behind Zakiah and summon his staff instantly. He fired a white beam from the staff’s giant eyeball right into Zakiah’s back, sending him away and crashing into a temple.

  Isaac landed safely on the luminescent eave of a pagoda but was immediately reminded that the fight was far from over as Mac crash-landed behind him in a volcanic burst.

  Mac rose and took on a fighting stance, but it wasn’t a still one. He maintained a steady motion as he rocked back and forth.

  Despite his perceived hot-headed demeanor, when Isaac analyzed Mac, he could see a calm readiness in his eyes. He had confidence in whatever it was he was about to do.

  A magma-coated fist blasted right into Isaac’s face, and another punch too quick for him to register rammed into the cold wound on his cheek.

  Isaac teleported a few feet away, and Mac came at him again with a swinging magma punch. The Vicar managed to teleport away but still felt a hit on his shoulder after reappearing behind at a distance.

  The Archangel turned and smirked at him.

  Why was he so fast now? Just a little before, he couldn’t even land a punch on him, and now he was even quicker than his teleportation spells?

  Lava burst from Mac’s elbow crater. Another hit. Even quicker, and this time it was an uppercut. In a test of faith, Isaac swung his staff at him, and the pole connected with some ribs. Mac let out a cry before falling off the edge of the eave.

  Isaac doubled over and smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time a fight had him stop to catch his breath. Performing spells with the Healer’s Garb equipped burned one’s Mana Gauge much quicker. However, depending on who was asked, it was seen as a worthwhile tradeoff for passive spells and increased defense.

  Passive spells required no effort from a Healer, and it was up to the Garbs to keep them activated. Healing spells, powered by Gray, White, or Black Magic, were among the existing passive spells.

  When it came to the clash between White and Black Magic, in terms of healing and sometimes in combat, it was a matter of whichever had the higher output for the victor to be decided.

  Isaac put his hand over the throbbing wounds and bruises on his cheek. Now that he was paying attention to Vistrea’s voice—the Garb let him know that the snow and the magma were infused with White Magic energy.

  Neither he nor Vistrea had enough Black Magic energy output to cure them. Using White Magic to heal the wounds would be comparable to trying to rid of deadly bacteria by adding even more of it. It was unthinkable, however—

  Isaac slapped his cheek, and the injuries disappeared without a fuss.

  —The Vicar was an exception.

  The Negative Reaction technique consisted of applying a healing spell infused with White Magic energy on a White Magic-inflicted wound, with both outputs being precisely the same in a single second, getting rid of the ailment as if Black Magic was used to cure it.

  Its application was rare. The Garb’s automatic healing ability persisted in just surpassing the output of the ailment; it followed safeguards that prevented it from risking complex procedures. Meaning it needed to be done manually, and a failed attempt had disastrous effects. Ordinary Healers have met a grim demise with their efforts, but Isaac was no ordinary Healer.

  Mac flew back onto the eave of the pagoda with lava erupting from his elbow craters, and he hit the surface running.

  Isaac decided to burn even more Mana with his teleportation, speeding up his evasion as Mac unleashed his magma-enhanced moveset, all performed with a perfect form that seemed to be getting quicker by the second as lava continuously burst out of the craters on his elbows and calves.

  Isaac began to mix in swinging his staff at Mac while teleporting away from his attacks. His superb agility made him a tricky but entertaining opponent.

  Hopefully, Hezekiah will become this skilled someday. That’ll be so great to see!

  Lava stopped bursting out of Mac as he and Isaac dashed and warped around the pagoda’s eave while avoiding each other’s attacks and trying to land their own. As a result of a couple of hits, blood was spilling from both combatants and wetting the eave with red; Mac’s accuracy began to dwindle.

  “Now, do you see you’re on the losing side, heathen?” Mac said and thrust a kick into Isaac’s gut.

  The Archangel’s cocky smile vanished when Isaac grabbed his ankle.

  Isaac raised a brow. Now, he got slower again. Is this a setback of his magic, or did Irin give him a Container with defects?

  Amid thinking, Mac raised his other leg for a side kick, and Isaac blocked it in time. After Mac fell back onto the eave’s tiles, Isaac dropped his staff, grabbed his collar, and pulled him up. “You’re good, but I really need to get going,” he said, pushing him back.

  Mac staggered for a bit, and when he found his footing, he froze, looking down.

  Isaac smiled. The Archangel finally noticed that a Healer was always thinking ahead.

  Where Mac stood was a giant magic circle made with their spilled blood after all the footwork they did chasing each other around.

  Isaac crouched and made a single clap.

  As he sang a prayer, the magic circle Mac stood over transformed into a giant eyeball, it glowed and then shot a massive beam of light upwards. Isaac turned his ear to the erupting beam of light that outshined all the other lights in the temple, hearing Mac’s screams as the spell seared his soul and Container.

  Isaac turned away and conjured a Mana bottle. He pulled out the cork and drank the remedy, smiling at its sweet metallic taste.

  A flapping sound had Isaac look up, and the other combatant was making his reentry into the battle.

  Zakiah glided down to the eave using a white parachute in the shape of angel wings. He dodged the white beam searing Mac and dropped. As soon as he landed, the parachute furled and stuffed itself into his backpack, which closed on its own.

  “I’m curious, why do you think we’re the bad guys and you are the good guys?” Zakiah asked.

  As much as Isaac adored debating philosophy, the struggle’s duration reached a point of annoyance. He reappeared before Zakiah at a nose-touching distance, crossed his fingers, and pushed his hands forward as they turned translucent.

  Isaac’s hands passed through the chest of Zakiah’s Container, and he touched his soul.

  Zakiah didn’t react. He just stared back with a calm look. “Have any of you ever tried another way aside from fighting?” he asked.

  Isaac frowned and then emitted his holy fire.

  Still no reaction from Zakiah.

  Isaac pulled his hand back and retreated to analyze. Of course, they were immune to holy fire. He looked over to the white beam as it subsided, and a slightly scorched Mac wobbled forward. Isaac’s supreme senses indicated that the attack failed to damage his opponent’s soul. Mac’s Container wasn’t nearly as damaged as it should be with such a spell.

  As the Archangel with faintly charred skin and burnt clothing walked forward, Isaac began to laugh, realizing he was facing opponents that could use light and dark forces to fight and high outputs of White Magic that rivaled his, unlike his siblings.

  This was why Irin invested in this project. She now had soldiers who were on par with Tainted.

  How low were they willing to let their soul’s purity drop to use stronger Black Magic spells? If they could reach levels that either canceled or even overpowered his attacks...

  He was in trouble.

  “This is impressive, I must say,” Isaac said as he held out his hands. “The angels finally did something akin to competence—”

  “Hey!” Mac said while scowling and pointing at Isaac. “Don’t disrespect the angels!”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Isaac gasped and put his hand over his chest. “I would never. All I speak is the objective truth, and unfortunately, that truth is… they are regretfully ineffective,” he said, earning an even angrier glare from Mac. “Until now, that is. From the Mind Channels I’ve listened to, Irin mostly struck me as someone who didn’t use her head for thinking all that much.”

  “Don’t disrespect Irin like that,” Mac shouted and stomped forward; magma spurted out of his shoe, melting into the eaves’ tile. He scoffed and looked over at Zakiah. “Distance yourself from us. Let me handle this.”

  Zakiah glanced at Isaac and then turned to Mac. “But—”

  “I’m telling you, I can handle this. Go!”

  Zakiah stared back at him and shrugged. “Okay, then.” He turned and jumped off the eave, using his angel-wing parachute to glide away.

  Isaac and Mac were alone once again.

  “Do you have any idea how much Irin has done for our Realm?” Mac started. “For humanity? You probably wouldn’t be breathing right now if it weren’t for her!” He grunted and fell on one knee, pushing his fists into the melted tiles. A volcanic crater emerged and burst through the back of his burnt shirt.

  He sped forward and was hovering over Isaac in the blink of an eye.

  That was fast, Isaac thought as he raised his arm over his head.

  Mac stuck his leg forward as he dropped and slammed his heel onto Isaac’s arm.

  It connected, and a clash of power commenced. White Magic energy flickered and blew out in every direction like a tropical storm.

  Isaac felt immense strain on his legs as he held back the attack, and when he looked down, he saw that his knees were facing each other and on the verge of snapping.

  As Mac turned up his White Magic output, Isaac was forced to do the same.

  Isaac was blessed with a Container capable of sustaining high purity levels. Although using too high of an output of White Magic burned heaps of Mana. For most of his opponents, he never needed to use an even higher output than his usual outrageous amount.

  Until now.

  It was paramount for Isaac to understand this opponent wasn’t like any he had faced before, so he raised his output just as Mac switched entirely to Black Magic.

  The switch had Isaac lose focus, and in the fight of magic types, Mac won for just a second. Still, it was enough to send Isaac crashing into a flight of stairs that connected with his back upon landing.

  Isaac had to work quickly with the immense spiritual damage he had just taken, leaving black blemishes on his skin. Sustaining such an impairment meant his Mana would burn quicker, his spells less potent than they should be, his soul purity dropping, enduring pain incomparable to the physical kind, and, worst of all, hindering his Garb’s abilities.

  He pulled himself up, conjured two Mana bottles, removed the corks with his mouth, and guzzled them until they were empty. He stopped to focus on what medicine from his inventory he needed to conjure next to help with soul purity, but his eyelids grew heavy, and his mind became foggy…

  Sleep would feel so good… maybe it was time to—

  His senses alerted him to look upward, and Mac was blasting down to him using the volcanic crater on his back for added speed. Isaac jumped but wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way in time. He took the magma fist to the jaw and fell a couple more steps.

  The hit had him thinking clearly again. He managed to get up on one knee and conjured his purity-raising solution in a long vial (angel feathers, sylph essence, and an ice dragon tooth dissolved in a liquified unicorn horn). But the medicine never touched his lips as Mac reached him and knocked the vial out of his hands with a molten kick.

  Isaac got back on his feet and pushed him back, using Mana for extra force. In the short time window, Isaac tried to test his luck and summoned another purity-raising solution. He drank it, but Mac forced him to spit it out with a heated punch to the gut, followed by rapid punches to his torso and a ferocious uppercut that made Isaac lose his footing.

  Mac chased Isaac as he rolled down the steps and stopped his momentum by stomping on his back. The next move by Isaac was predictable, but he had to anyway. He teleported behind Mac and immediately got hit in the chest—as expected. Isaac fell onto his back again and summoned his staff as Mac approached him for another attack.

  The Archangel’s leg went up and came down like a burning rocket falling into the Earth’s ozone layer. Isaac blocked the attack with his staff’s shaft, pushed Mac back, and fired a white beam. It was a direct hit, and Mac was down.

  Not a single second of the opportunity was wasted as Isaac ran to Mac, dropped, and pressed the shaft onto his throat. Then Isaac got up, pressing down both ends of his staff with his feet—using as much Mana he could muster to keep him pinned and produced the purity-raising medicine in his hand. He managed to consume it all before Mac released an explosion that launched him into the air.

  Isaac landed near the top of the stairs and conjured another vial. His opponent dashed him and smacked the medication out of his hand.

  “You’re persistent,” Isaac said and clapped thrice.

  Three intertwined golden wheels dotted with eyes appeared around him. They spun calmly, glowing divinely. “Lux caeli,” said Isaac. He had to use words for the first time in a while to help him focus on a spell.

  After a clap, it was day again.

  The sky began to shine brightly with white light, and soon, everything emitted the same glow. Isaac watched Mac look around while confused in the world of pure white light. It was like being inside a giant flashlight.

  Isaac’s vision was immune to the spell, allowing him to move freely in the light world. During this, he consumed more purity-raising medicine and chewed onto strips of dried gnome hair he conjured to help with exhaustion.

  After finishing his pick-me-ups, Isaac was ready to fight again. There was no need to swing punches or kicks with the wheels spinning around him; he just needed to dash past Mac, and they’d do the beating for him.

  After hitting his opponent with the wheels left and right, up and down, the Archangel surprised Isaac again. Mac squatted and clenched his fists as he let out a piercing cry. Magma shot up from the crater on his back as a haze of volcanic ash exuded from his Container, blasting Isaac back when he got near.

  The Black Magic-infused magma dispersed in several directions, burning away the spell.

  That was nearly a hundred percent of White Magic output in that spell, Isaac thought to himself as he watched it all being undone. The night was returning. The Archangel’s Black Magic output was even higher than that? Do Archangels not have the risk of demonification?

  He could sense Mac’s purity levels at a low level, but then it shot up again instantly as he threw a ball of molten rock at Isaac.

  Isaac evaded but was hit in the back with a chunk of magma falling from the sky. He kneeled, hissing in pain. The magma was infused with high levels of White Magic.

  They can switch between spectrums of magic that quickly? Isaac thought. The damage was reversible with another Negative Reaction. He raised his hand to do it himself, but a shock of searing pain from his back made him relent and order Vistrea to do it. The Garb resisted, and during the mental struggle, Mac neared him and started healing the wound.

  Isaac turned back with widened eyes. Mac's hand was stretched forward through an opening between the spinning wheels, and using White Magic to heal the wound carelessly, meaning…

  A failed Negative Reaction attempt.

  A burst of White Magic had Isaac slam his face into the stairs and roll down to the ground.

  After the fall, Isaac lacked the strength to pull himself up. He began to cough and hack to his burning throat and fought against the urge to scratch his cracking skin.

  814: Accursed Blessing. A deadly disease that appears after a failed Negative Reaction attempt.

  The Healer now became a case patient.

  He raised his arm and analyzed his skin, corroding and breaking off like pottery, revealing a glowing source of energy underneath—his soul.

  If not treated immediately, the ailment would lead to a White Shock and then death.

  Isaac turned his head and studied a smiling Mac walking down the stairs.

  It didn’t make any sense. How did he know what a Negative Reaction was? Supernatural medical knowledge like that was exclusive to Healers.

  There was the fact that Healers had shared their knowledge with other creatures throughout the years and left plenty of books to study. Were angels now studying supernatural medicine? Or…

  Maybe he had already studied supernatural medicine before Irin recruited him? Isaac thought as he sat up and coughed pure white phlegm into his fist.

  “The Archangels are the perfect being, you heathen," Mac said. “We can do everything you can and better while maintaining the angelic essence bestowed to us.”

  Oh, Isaac thought and slowly got back to his feet. He bent over with his hands on his knees, laughing and coughing as pieces of his face broke off. “How could I have been so inattentive?” he yelled, smacking his forehead.

  “Laughing in desperation now?” Mac said as he reached the end of the steps.

  Isaac laughed louder. How could he have been so silly?

  Healers’ minds had an encryption charm that blocked angels from reading them. With a White Magic-based encryption layered over it, Isaac kept other Healers from messing with his mind.

  The Archangels were both human and angel. So the charm meant for angels didn’t apply to them, and his mind encryption set up for other Healers could be bypassed since they could use an output of White Magic that compared to his.

  “You’ve been reading my mind," Isaac said and poked at his head. “Literally.”

  Mac put his hands on his hips and laughed. “Go ahead, set up a spell to block your mind with Black Magic instead.”

  Isaac curled what was left of his lip to the side.

  “Now, admit it,” Mac said, standing firmly, “The angels are… amazing.”

  “With this particular thing?” Isaac responded. “Sure, but I can’t say they're ‘amazing’ in general.”

  “So, if you were in charge, things would’ve been better?”

  “I know it would,” Isaac said, looking like a broken Greek statue given life. Sections of his arms, legs, and face were fractured, separated by small gaps but floated in place as if connected by invisible tissue. Parts of his soul underneath glowed brightly between the cracks of his supernaturally ill body.

  Isaac didn’t just look floaty. He felt like it, too. And tired. So tired, but there was also pain. Lots of it. His eyelids were getting increasingly heavy, and his Mana Gauge was nearly depleted, begging for a break.

  Vistrea was also giving its grievances.

  “What makes you so sure of that?” Mac said, his thunderous voice aiding in keeping Isaac awake.

  “Well, for instance, I would’ve never let the Seals be broken—”

  “It wasn’t Irin’s fault! If she was in charge, it wouldn’t have gone like that! She would’ve put in place contingency procedures that—”

  Isaac coughed and spat out some white phlegm. “You really like Irin, huh?”

  Mac’s expression went vacant, and he looked away.

  Isaac touched his cheek, floating just a few inches from his face. “Oh my… you love her,” he teased.

  Mac stammered as he struggled to make eye contact.

  Isaac’s eyes widened. Turns out his teasing was more of a statement. “Oh, it’s for certain. But she changes Containers regularly… so it’s not a physical attraction. You’re attracted to her on a spiritual level. Marvelous.”

  “That’s enough!” Mac said, swinging his hand to the side. “Irin will still be happy if I kill you here and now, heathen.” He dropped to one knee, pushing his fists into the ground, charging Mana energy. He had a fiery and ashy aura swirl around him.

  Isaac’s ailment could be cured with a reversed blessing spell, but he couldn’t even dream of using a Black Magic output high enough to perform it.

  So that left the second option.

  Isaac conjured a Mana bottle larger than his fist, popped off the cork, and gulped it all down. His mouth broke down the middle, and half of his lip curved into a smile. “Sacratus Vistrea,” he said, slowly pushing his cracked fingers into his eye sockets, yanking his eyeballs out in a bloody spectacle, and then snapping the optic nerves with one tug as if pulling ripcords. Yet, Isaac could still see… in his own way.

  Heavenly light, blinding Mac for a moment, enveloped Isaac’s Container as he activated the awakened form of his Healer’s Garb—The Manifestation.

  Isaac’s eye-wheels were a partial Manifestation of his Garb, and now it was the time to go full-throttle.

  Voluminous white clouds appeared to cover the night sky, moving quickly but with grace, and a ray of light pierced through the clouds and shone over Isaac, elevating him as his Garb took over.

  His Container evaporated, and a glassy fluid appeared in the center of the spotlight. Something new began to take shape. Something right on the line between beauty and horror...

  The fluid expanded and took on a spherical shape as angelic choirs rose from somewhere.

  Fibrous tissue grew over and covered the fluid. Muscles expanded and contracted until pure white skin coated them.

  The transformation was complete, and the giant eyeball marked with an angelic sigil ascended higher, nearing the clouds over it.

  Mac gaped, motionless before the rapturous visage.

  And then, the eyeball blinked.

  Anderson’s Medical Fun Facts: The human eyeball is made up of over 2 million working parts and its muscles are the most active muscles in the human body.