The training stretched on into the next day, and as usual, Kent insisted on tagging along. He positioned himself in the corner of Healer Hilda's lab, arms folded across his chest and eyes narrowed as he observed his younger brother's every move.
Raiden, however, was far too immersed in his lesson to be bothered by Kent's scrutiny. Or, at least, he pretended to be.
"Remember, Raiden," Hilda said gently, her hand guiding his posture as she crouched beside him. "Healing is not just about pouring mana into the wound. It's about balance. Amplify the energy too much, and you could overwhelm the target. Weaken it too much, and the healing becomes ineffective."
Raiden nodded solemnly. "Balance. Got it."
But the smirk tugging at his lips told another story. He was enjoying himself immensely, especially since Kent looked like he was about to burst from how serious he was taking the "observer role."
For hours, Raiden practiced on superficial scratches that Hilda created using harmless spells. A faint green glow danced across his palms each time, brightening or dimming depending on Hilda's soft instructions. "More mana here, Raiden. Yes, that's it. Now—reduce it. No, no, not that much. There, steady your flow."
Kent, watching silently, found himself strangely impressed despite his irritation. 'He's actually learning quickly… too quickly.'
By late afternoon, Raiden's shirt was plastered to his skin with sweat, his breathing ragged from the constant expenditure of mana. Hilda, however, looked pleased. "You've made progress. Enough that I think you're ready to try something more advanced."
Raiden perked up. "Advanced?"
Hilda reached under her worktable and pulled out a wooden bucket filled with water. Swimming lazily inside was a silver-scaled fish about the size of Raiden's arm. Its fins flicked nervously as if it already sensed what was coming.
Raiden tilted his head. "A fish?"
"Yes," Hilda said, her tone matter-of-fact. She retrieved a small knife from the table. "Healing an inanimate injury is one thing. Healing a living creature is another. Living bodies resist mana differently. This fish will be your first test."
Before Raiden could object, she made a shallow cut along the fish's side. Scarlet droplets bled into the water, clouding it faintly.
Raiden flinched. "Wait, wait, wait! I don't think I'm ready for this."
"You won't know until you try," Hilda replied calmly. "And don't worry. If you fail, I'll heal it myself. Or…" she shrugged, "we can make a soup out of it."
Kent's ears practically twitched at the word "soup." His stomach growled right on cue, filling the room with a low rumble.
Raiden whipped his head toward him. "Seriously?"
Kent cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance. "What? I skipped lunch. And Hilda makes the best fish soup in the manor."
Hilda chuckled lightly but said nothing more. The challenge was set.
Raiden stared at the wounded fish, its gills fluttering rapidly as blood streamed into the bucket. He flexed his fingers, summoning the familiar green glow of [Healing Touch]. A part of him wanted to succeed—he always wanted to succeed—but another part wanted to have a little fun at Kent's expense.
If he healed it instantly, Kent would just shrug. But if he stalled, he could milk the situation for all it was worth.
He placed his glowing hands over the fish and trickled in only the barest thread of mana. The wound glimmered faintly, but the bleeding didn't stop.
"Steady… steady…" Hilda instructed, unaware that Raiden was deliberately dragging his feet.
Raiden's brows knitted together, his face adopting an expression of intense concentration. "I'll need silence for this," he announced gravely. "Complete silence."
Both Hilda and Kent exchanged glances before nodding. The room fell quiet except for the faint bubbling of the water and the occasional rustle of pages from the open spellbook on Hilda's desk.
Minutes ticked by. Then ten. Then twenty.
The wound had closed only marginally. At this rate, the fish might live—but only after several hours of Raiden's slow trickle of mana.
Kent's patience began to fray. He shifted in his seat, tapping his foot against the floor. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Dinner was in twenty minutes. 'And this brat is still pretending to "focus."'
Another ten minutes crawled by. Raiden was still hunched over the bucket, his face set in an overly dramatic mask of seriousness.
Kent exhaled heavily and turned toward Hilda, who immediately shook her head and mouthed, 'Don't say a word.'
But Kent had had enough.
"Raiden," he said loudly.
Raiden's hands jerked as though startled, and in that exact moment, the thin trickle of mana surged wildly out of his control. The faint glow flared into a bright burst, flooding the fish's wound with too much energy at once.
The fish twitched violently, its body arching—and then it went still. The water stilled with it.
Silence filled the room.
Raiden slowly turned his head toward Kent, his expression painted with mock fury. "You distracted me."
Kent slapped a palm over his face. "Oh, for crying out loud…"
Hilda peered into the bucket and sighed. "Well. That escalated quickly."
Kent groaned and rubbed his temples. "Fine, I'm sorry. I distracted you. But honestly, it looked like you were trying to bore the fish to death anyway."
Raiden crossed his arms, pouting. "It was a delicate process."
"Delicate?" Kent gestured at the now-floating fish. "You turned it into a corpse."
Hilda raised her hands to calm them both. "Enough. What's done is done. On the bright side…" Her lips quirked upward.
Kent's eyes lit up. "We get fish soup."
Raiden gaped at both of them. "Are you seriously turning my failed training into dinner?"
Kent's stomach grumbled again as if in answer. He grinned shamelessly. "Absolutely. And you know what? I think this was your plan all along. You probably wanted the fish dead so you could enjoy soup, too."
Raiden threw his hands in the air. "I can't win with you."
"Correct." Kent smirked, leaning back smugly.
Hilda, already moving to clean the fish, chuckled softly at their antics. "Well, Raiden, healing requires patience. But also decisiveness. Next time, don't hold back so much."
Raiden deflated but nodded. "I'll do better tomorrow."
Kent, however, was far more cheerful now that the evening promised a warm bowl of soup. He clapped Raiden on the back with a laugh. "Don't worry, little brother. You're not completely useless. You've at least contributed to dinner."
Raiden muttered under his breath, glaring at the fish. "This isn't over. Next time, I'll heal it perfectly. And then we'll see who laughs."
Hilda smiled warmly. "That's the spirit."
As she moved to prepare the soup, Raiden sat with his arms crossed, plotting silently. Kent might think he'd won this round, but Raiden was already thinking of ways to make tomorrow's training… memorable.
After all, keeping Kent "out of trouble" was turning into quite the trouble for him.