Headmaster Olfir isn't headmaster because he's the strongest, but simply because he has good management skills. That's why everyone respects his opinion, and on top of that, he has connections everywhere. 

Royal Family, the Dukedom of the East? Southern Hessian blood? He has ties to them all.

"Headmaster Olfir, do you see any prospects this time?"

He looks over the papers carefully.

"Is this what the judges have brought before me? Not one, but two blank pages? What happened to the report on Noctum and the report for Eris' proctor performance?"

The judges looked perplexed, rubbing their hands together nervously.

"I apologize, Headmaster. We don't know exactly what happened but the room had blacked out during the fight between Noctum and Afrecht."

Olfir shuffled the papers, stacking them neatly while singling out one.

"I couldn't check on those two because of the error that occurred but this one is definitely the best among them."

He stamped the paper with a golden seal.

"Better than Arden, Alaric, Endrin, and Argus. This is the one we must keep an eye on."

Callus Von Afrecht.

[…]

Outside the window was the same scene I had seen inside the carriage, only a little cleaner since it was inside the city.

I thought about it for a long time, but I should let the protagonist get to know his companions normally instead of interfering. Then came another thought, should I do anything at all? If the protagonist doesn't meet certain conditions he won't be able to gain the mentality needed to defeat his enemies.

He's meticulous, selfish, and observant. But even then, he's cocky, greedy, and arrogant.

There's no way someone who was hailed as a once-in-a-millennium genius, defeated the instructor fairly and engaged in the politics of the Kingdom through combat would have thought of defeat.

Above all, you'll have to lose what's most important to you for you to realize that.

In a month, Eris Von Afrecht will die.

And I will watch, without lifting a finger.

"Oh, what brings you here, Son of Noctum?"

The marbled flooring of the church was as white as the robes the priest wore.

"Priest Andrei, I was sent by Professor Marietta Durnett today for the sermon."

"Well, we can hardly call this a sermon, not with all the wounded."

I was sent along with 3 others to participate in what a sermon during wartime is considered. The ones I came with, were Priscilla, a farm girl with excellent grades and a sense of justice, Baris, a kind-hearted man from the countryside, and Neville, who has been thin and sick since birth. 

This isn't the ideal class, just looking at their backgrounds. It's why it wasn't a popular class in the game and also why I never gave it a shot.

"Now, you must all remember, the procedure is either save or release. Do not waste your time on those who cannot be saved or the time that someone else has will expire."

Andrei hands us each an ornate dagger.

"Send those who cannot be saved off painlessly, it's the least we can do."

Receiving the daggers, we headed inside to the mausoleum located within the church. It was a cost-effective yet honorable burial spot for those who made it back.

"I assign Duri to the Third ward, Priscilla to the Second, Neville to the Fourth, and Baris to the First."

We nodded and began working.

Standard wear for a healer is white gloves with robes, it's the cloth that symbolizes the church.

I was assigned to the third ward, the further down the ward gets, the fewer healers will be assigned there. The first ward takes priority, the second after, and so on. 

Thus, the third ward has a majority of patients who haven't been attended to. 

I remember while I was playing, my character died a few times after an injury due to being assigned to a lower ward.

It was especially frustrating that it would occur after a difficult boss, only to fail because the body didn't survive.

"Let's see here, first patient."

I read the sloppily written chart with the information of the patients, it was a procedure done to ensure nobility received treatment first.

Robert, without a family name, is possibly a mercenary or orphan. The wounds indicate three debuffs, a laceration, heavy impact on the cerebrum, and a mangled arm.

It's possible to save him, but it will be difficult.

I'll check some of the others before I make the call.

Next patient, Arman Felt, it's not one of the noble houses I've heard of, most likely a commoner. Scarred on the cheeks, eyes are gouged, missing three fingers.

I'm sure he'd rather die than live like this.

"Arman."

The man continued to wriggle in pain as I spoke to him.

"Arman, your eyes are ruined, and your sword arm can no longer hold a sword."

The man stopped wriggling for a moment, and after a momentary silence, I heard his tears.

"Arman, do you want mercy?"

I held his hand in mine.

"I guarantee, I will guide you to our lord, and that he will take you as his noble servant."

Arman bit his lip, tears coming from his eye sockets. He slowly nodded, and as he did, I felt his hand tremble.

"Arman, there is nothing to fear, you who fought for our land, for our lord, for our people. There is no one more worthy."

I held his hand tightly as I sunk the knife into his chest. 

"I serve as your guide, Arman."

His body trembled until the very end, he most likely felt it, the pain of his heart being split, the feeling of his body failing him.

"You are strong, Arman."

Then, when he ceased to breathe, his soul no longer of this world, I stood up.

The entire thing only took half a minute, for him to give up on life so easily to go to his lord.

It makes me wonder.

"Next."

Saul Hendrickson, mercenary from the west, he does not worship our lord, thus he isn't high on the priority. Seven missing teeth, sword wound…

Oh.

He's already dead.

Derrick van Hauss, nobility, was not afforded priority due to the household being ruined. His current property and status as lord are being taken as collateral. He provides no other utility.

"Hey, please, please help me, I'll pay you back, you'll see! Once I revive my household…!"

Not everyone can dream so loftily.

Derrick van Hauss, missing both arms and legs. He has no other wounds, but the amputations need cleaning.

"I'll do it for you, Mom, I promise! I will!"

He swung his nubs around crazily.

I walked past him, moving towards the next patient.

"Oskar…?"

Certainly, it's not an uncommon name.

I brushed his hair up, revealing his face.

Quite handsome, the features match the portrait in the game. 

I spread his eyelids apart, revealing sky-blue eyes.

Reading the report, his name is simply 'Oskar.' Soldier on the field, fighting for the Luden Front. His injuries include an arrow being stuck near his delt, the tendons of his hands being cut, and a fever.

I thought he had died as a part of the story, to find him here is unexpected. 

"Oskar, listen to me."

This could make my situation a lot easier in the long run.

"I can save you."

His feverish eyes meet mine.

He can't make out words due to the paralysis agent in the arrow, from the autopsy I gained in the game, it was confirmed as an assassination. Paralysis arrow, tendons cut to ensure he had no strength and no ability to wield the sword or live normally after the attempt, and neglect in the temple of healing.

"No need to speak, simply nod your head, or allow me to grant you mercy."

By taking the path of the healer, I intercepted the assassin before he could even get here. I would save his target from being forcibly made to accept mercy.

"Show me."

Oskar nods his head, his lips bleed from how hard he bites down on them, and his eyes lull into a bloodcurdling rage.

"Wonderful."

I wiped down his wrists, where the tendons were severed, making sure it was dry. Gently, I propped him up against the stone pillar beside him, placing the rag I used to clean the wound into his mouth.

"Oskar, this is going to hurt."

I gripped the shaft of the arrow gently twisting it, feeling around his delt with my other hand.

"You're lucky Oskar, not too deep, didn't penetrate any bones either."

I ripped the arrowhead out of his delt.

"MMMGHHHH!"

I then proceeded to pour a small amount of alcohol onto his wound, disinfecting it.

"MMMMMPPHHH!! UUNNNGHHH! Hnnn…nngh…"

Afterward, I crudely sewed his wounds together, causing further pain.

I used a clean soft towel and padded it onto his wound, wrapping it around his shoulder tightly.

"I don't know any magic yet so this is the best I can do."

I took the rag out of his mouth, his breathing was ragged, and tears were obviously on the verge of spilling in his eyes.

"Not that magic is some kind of miracle cure in the first place."

I laid Oskar onto his back.

"Now you won't die from an infection, and the paralysis should wear off in a few hours, find your help then. The tendons were already severed but I did my best to dry them, so hopefully they'll heal to some degree."

I leaned in and whispered my parting words to him.

"Oskar du Alaric, fifth prince of the holy kingdom, remember my name well, as your savior, and as your debtor."

I stood up, changing into a fresh pair of white gloves.

"I am Duri Zoran Noctum, the firstborn son of the Duke Noctum."

I felt his eyes on me until I finished the 'sermon.' Every time I looked at him, I felt his animosity, with every breath of suffering being uttered by the patients around him pushing it further.

I then left the mausoleum and returned to Priest Andrei. There, I only found two of the three others.

"Priest Andrei, I've finished my task, my report consists of 14 subjects of mercy and 3 subjects who lived according to the grace of the lord."

Andrei turned to me, finishing his conversation with Priscilla and Neville.

"Very well done, Noctum."

He gave me a scroll with his seal upon it.

As I received it, I finally noticed Baris, who sat by himself near the altar of Zoran. His hands clutched in prayer, feverishly rocking his body as he did so.

"Please do convey to the Professor not to send anyone like your friend there. The Healers do not need a man who cannot carry out the duties of the lord."

"I understand, Priest Andrei."

When I left the church with Priscilla and Neville, I could hear the mumbles of Baris from the door.

"…forgive me, please forgive me! I only did as I needed, I guided him to the lord! It…it was not murder…!"

The kind heart of Baris couldn't take it.

His words slipped from my mind as I walked down the steps. I think I'm hungry, but I don't have any appetite to eat. 

The words of another man remain in my mind.

The man whose heart I pierced myself, the man who gave up on his life, coerced to suicide by my words. 

The words of the man who dreamed of a family rendered a useless nugget. 

The many others, who had to be put down.

I…don't want to see this kind of scene again.

My mind trembles at the thought that if one day, I were to get used to this feeling.

Would I still be human?