Path of Dragons - A LitRPG Apocalypse (BOOK TWO STUBBING AUGUST 15)-12-7. A Taste of the Past
Sitting on one of the gurneys, Elijah finally leaned back and let out a sigh of relief. After spending the past two days healing the people of New York, he had long since exhausted the sick and injured in the district. But once word got out, people had come from all across the city. There were even a few patients who’d taken the ferry from the mainland, just to be healed by him.
And it wasn’t surprising.
For one, Elijah could keep it going indefinitely. None of the locals were high enough level to tax his ethera. Most were completely healed by the combination of Grove Conduit and Blessing of the Grove. Only the worst had required him to use Wild Resurgence or Nature’s Bloom.
In addition, the local Healer – named Morena – was far more effective as well. Her heals weren’t any more impactful, but her regeneration was significantly boosted by Grove Conduit. Because of that, she could keep going for more than twice as long as normal.
“Any more out there?” he asked.
Looking exhausted, Morena shook her head. “That’s everyone,” she said with tired disbelief. “I doubt so much as a cold survived.”
That wasn’t true. Not exactly. In addition to the fact that the rich and powerful would never have ventured into the slums unless truly desperate, there had been a few ailments that had resisted even Elijah’s powerful healing. One woman in particular had been afflicted with cancer so advanced that Elijah was surprised she was even alive. He’d spent nearly half his ethera trying to heal her, but as was the case with Hope, it wasn’t a question of vitality. As such, he simply didn’t have the means to heal her.
Seeing her tentative hope turn to resignation broke Elijah’s heart.
The same was true when he was confronted by missing limbs. He knew from experience that, with enough vitality, amputations could be healed. Under the effects of Mycelial Regrowth, he’d regrown more than one severed limb. However, for all that his healing spells were incredibly powerful, they hadn’t reached the point where they could manage that.
In fact, Elijah suspected that the only reason he was able to do so with his own arms and legs was because of his uniquely powerful constitution and body cultivation. Without it, even Mycelial Regrowth would have fallen short.
It was just one more reminder that, while he could heal passably well, he was no true Healer. Idly, he wondered if Ron could have managed better. Probably. Especially when he got back from the Primal Realm. The man was already unmatched as a Healer, so gaining a bunch of levels would only enable him further.
Despite his failures, Elijah was still satisfied with the last few days. Not for the first time, he was forced to acknowledge that he was more than just a fighter. The weary sense of accomplishment he felt after healing people was enough to solidify that in his mind.
Druids weren’t pure combatants, after all. They were meant to be nurturers. Ushers of life itself. Being reminded of that was eye-opening.
It was too bad that he couldn’t keep going down that road, though. Not only would the state of the world prevent it, but his own personality wouldn’t allow him to avoid conflict for too long. For better or worse, Elijah had embraced the life of adventure that came with the pursuit of progression. He enjoyed throwing himself into death-defying situations too much to abandon that lifestyle.
It went further than simple adrenaline. Or the positive reinforcement that came with gaining levels and stepping forward with his cultivation. That was part of it, but only minimally. The sense of accomplishment that came with victory and attaining goals influenced him as well, but more than anything else, he had become addicted to submersing himself in understanding.
Never had he felt better than when he’d finally completed the imagery associated with his cultivation system. The tree within him was not real. Not in the strictest sense. But in a lot of ways, it was as solid as the gurney beneath him.
Elijah couldn’t wait to take the next step forward, be it by evolving his class or furthering his understanding of cultivation, nature, or any of the other mysteries constantly teasing his mind.
“There’s no way I can convince you to stay, is there?” asked Morena.
Elijah glanced at her, then shook his head. “I wish I could afford to,” he answered. “I’ve already been here longer than I expected. Longer than I probably should have stuck around.”
“You know how much good you can do,” she reminded him.
“I know. But if I choose this kind of life, the world could realistically end,” he said without false modesty. “I’ve told you my situation.”
Indeed, during their infrequent breaks, Elijah had confided in the woman. She was a stranger, but their shared struggles against the maladies affecting the people of New York had bonded them in a way few other things could have. The only comparable situation Elijah had experienced was when he’d gone to battle with his friends.
Fortunately, Morena was a fantastic listener. Probably because she was afraid that if she didn’t listen to his whining, he might leave. And maybe there was some truth to that fear.
In any case, she knew his issues, so she nodded, “You don’t have to carry it alone.”
“That’s…that’s not exactly true,” he disagreed. He’d set up the meeting with the world leaders to offer them a means of helping in the only way they could manage. Or maybe that was the only task he’d trust them to accomplish. Whatever the case, Elijah knew that if he didn’t conquer the Primal Realms, the planet would be excised. He sighed. “But I get why you’d think that.”
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He pushed himself upright, then stood. After running his hand through his hair, he looked around the clinic. They hadn’t had much of a chance to clean, so there were puddles of dried blood and piles of discarded bandages. “Do you want me to help with…you know, all of this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Waste of your time. I have a couple of kids who help out,” she revealed. “They’ll have this place spotless in a couple of hours.”
Elijah didn’t like the idea of leaving without cleaning up after himself, but he also didn’t want to commit to that task. So, he nodded, saying, “Well, I guess this is it, then.”
She took a step forward and put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. The world needs to carry part of the burden, too.”
He gave her a tired smile. “Yeah. I guess,” he agreed, though not as forcefully as he probably should have. “If you need me, contact me via the Branch. I’ll try to stop by next time I’m in town.”
She gave him another tired smile. “You do that.”
After that, Elijah excused himself and, for the first time in two days, left the clinic behind. Thankfully, he’d changed clothes and allowed himself a quick shower after treating the latest patient, so aside from looking a bit fatigued, he didn’t show the results of his efforts.
But that didn’t mean he made it through the slums without fanfare. The locals all recognized him. Many showered him with gratitude, but fortunately, they allowed him to leave without too much trouble.
As he left the area behind, Elijah once again recognized that he was being followed. His tail hadn’t dropped during the two days he spent in the clinic, so it wasn’t surprising that they remained. He didn’t mind much, though. He had nothing to hide.
In any case, thoughts of healing and poorly concealed surveillance dissipated when he saw something far more interesting.
The sign was simple enough. Just a white board bearing a painted slice of pizza, and adorned with the name, Giancarlo’s. The smell of melty cheese, spices, and cooking dough was a much better advertisement, though.
Elijah followed his nose into the small but crowded restaurant, and he was immediately reminded of a thousand other pizza parlors he’d visited throughout his life. The same red, vinyl chairs. The checkered tablecloths. The beefy Italian man kneading dough in the back.
“Welcome, friend!” the man bellowed without looking up, prompted by the tinkling of a bell on the door.
Elijah approached the counter, only to see a small child climbing onto a stool. He was obviously related to the man in the back, judging by his complexion and dark, curly hair.
“What’s it gonna be?” the kid asked with all the tired seriousness of a retail veteran.
Elijah glanced at the chalkboard, which listed the available ingredients. It didn’t take him long to identify what he wanted. “Sausage and pepperoni.”
“Slice or a whole pie?”
“Three pies,” Elijah said.
“No can do,” the boy said with a shake of his head. “Two’s the limit.”
“Then that’ll have to do,” Elijah agreed.
“You got money?” he asked after looking Elijah up and down. His eyes lingered on his bare feet. “You don’t look like you have money. No offense.”
Elijah chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said. He produced a silver ethereum from the loose pile of coins he kept in his Arcane Loop. “Here. This enough?”
“Don’t have change.”
“Keep it,” Elijah said.
The child narrowed his eyes before saying, “It’s your coppers, but alright. Take a seat. What’s your name? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Amused by the child’s gruff demeanor, Elijah nodded, revealed his first name, then took his place at one of the tables. It was a charmingly normal experience, sitting there with all the other diners. And there were a lot of them, too. The place wasn’t fancy, but it was packed with locals, which told Elijah all he needed to know about the quality of the food.
In fact, he was looking forward to the pizza more than Le Matin d’Or. Thankfully, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for the Chef – presumably, Giancarlo – to finish, and the young man called his name.
Elijah collected his pies, then headed back to his table. The moment he opened the box, which glittered with ethera, he knew he’d chosen wisely. The smell alone was enough to take him back in time to a hundred fantastic memories. Not least was when he and his sister would order pizza and watch scary movies.
He missed those nights.
Just like he missed taking Nora to his favorite pizza parlor in Hawaii. Or so many other experiences during college, when the quality of the pizza was far less important than the quantity of beer. Or the cost.
That was not the case with this particular pie. The pizza was a masterpiece of culinary construction. None of that Neapolitan nonsense. This was a perfect New York-style pizza, thin and foldable, with slightly charred crust. The toppings were generous, but not enough to overwhelm the gooey cheese, of which there was plenty.
He couldn’t grab a slice quickly enough.
That first bite was euphoric, and not just because of the taste. The Chef that ran Le Matin d’Or was supposed to be the highest level in Chef in the world, but based on that first bite, Elijah knew that was a hollow claim. Giancarlo was clearly just as powerful. Perhaps even stronger. And his pizza was evidence enough.
But ethera aside, the taste was absolutely overwhelming. Greasy and flavorful, with just enough spice to the sausage and pepperoni – it was, in a word, the perfect piece of New York-style pizza.
Elijah would have preferred to savor it, but after that first bite, he couldn’t stop himself from devouring the slice in record time. So it went with most of that first pie. His increased appetite wasn’t nearly sated, but his hunger had abated just enough to allow him to take his time with the remainder.
“Pretty good, huh?” came a deep baritone. Elijah looked up to see that Giancarlo had left the confines of his kitchen. He stood over the table, his thick forearms crossed.
“Best pizza I’ve ever had.”
Giancarlo laughed. “That’s what every man wants to hear. I’ll give you another couple of pies to take with you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Elijah said.
“After what you did in the clinic, it is,” the Chef said. “And I won’t hear any arguments otherwise. From now on, your money’s no good here. You come by anytime you want, and there’ll be a pie waiting for you.”
“I…thank you,” Elijah said. “That means a lot.”
“So does what you did for all those people.”
Elijah nodded, though he didn’t know what else to say. Besides, Giancarlo had a lot of customers waiting, so he couldn’t afford to spend too much time on conversation. However, Elijah did notice that the young clerk didn’t offer to return the silver ethereum, which brought a small smile to his face.
Eventually, Elijah finished the second pie, which was replaced with an identical pair of boxes before he left. So it was with a full belly and a sense of contentment that he left the pizza parlor. Soon enough, he noticed that his followers hadn’t given up their task.
Grinning, Elijah ducked down an alley, dismissed the pizzas into his Arcane Loop, then used Roots of the World Tree to teleport back to his grove.
They wouldn’t be following him there.
12-7. A Taste of the Past
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