St Chaos Healer

Ch 92 - Human Potted Plant

Sandro dropped to his knees, the sound of his uneven, shallow breaths cutting through the tense silence. His hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers twitching as though trying to grasp something that wasn't there. His wide, panicked eyes locked onto his useless, trembling limbs. Fury and desperation swirled together in his gaze.

"My body... I can't move it," he muttered, his voice cracking under the weight of fear. His words were barely audible, like a plea clawing its way out of his throat.

I smirked, flipping the dagger effortlessly between my fingers, its blade catching the faint light as it spun. "Ah, yes, that'd be thanks to the notorious little herb I came across earlier—a rather exquisite neurotoxin. Normally, it works in minutes, but seeing as you're built like a bear..." I gestured to his hulking frame with a flick of the blade. "It took its sweet time kicking in. You should feel honored, really."

Sandro's body jerked violently, his muscles twitching as though trying to fight against the paralysis. Sweat beaded on his forehead, glinting as it rolled down his face. His breaths came heavier now, almost animalistic, his veins standing out like dark lines snaking beneath his skin. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his body refused to obey.

With Sandro incapacitated, I turned my focus inward, feeling the mana swirling through my body like a restless current. My attention shifted to the torn stump where my arm had once been. The makeshift bandage I'd wrapped around it was soaked through with blood, but that didn't matter anymore. With a sharp tug, I tore it away, exposing the raw, jagged wound beneath.

Sandro's gaze flickered toward me, his expression shifting. For the first time, the fury in his eyes gave way to something else—disbelief. His brows furrowed as he squinted at my arm, his breath hitching when he realized what was happening.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself as I tapped into the pulsing energy within. Slowly, I channeled my mana, and a soft green glow enveloped the severed limb. The process began. Before Sandro's disbelieving eyes, my flesh started to regenerate.

Muscle fibers wove themselves together like threads in a loom, wrapping around the regrowing bone with precise, almost mechanical efficiency. The marrow formed first, followed by cartilage, tendons, nerves, and veins, each layer knitting itself seamlessly into place. It was a slow, grueling process, and I could feel the mana draining from me with every passing second.

As the healing took effect, my breaths became shallow, and my vision dimmed slightly as the final layer of skin sealed over the wound. The depletion of my mana was exhausting, making me feel dizzy. Nevertheless, I focused on calming my breath and regaining my senses.

Finally, I flexed my fingers, testing the strength of my newly regrown arm. It was whole again.

Sandro's breath hitched audibly. He stared at me, then at my arm, and finally at his own failing body. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, and his voice trembled as he whispered, "You... you're not human. What the hell are you?!"

I sighed, rolling my shoulders to shake off the lingering exhaustion.
"You could call me a monster," I said, my tone flat. "That's what your comrade called me before, anyway."

Sandro's face twisted, his expression unreadable for a moment before settling into grim acceptance. His body still trembled, but now there was something else in his eyes—resignation.

"I should have known... You reek of the devil," he murmured, shaking his head weakly. He exhaled, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "It's over for me anyway, so..."

Before I could react, his hand shot toward his belt. My instincts screamed at me, and I lunged forward, shouting, "Don't move!"

But I was too late. As I tried to dodge his whip-axe, I left a significant distance between us, and I wouldn't make it there quickly.