From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra-Chapter 54: A Miracle

Charles walked beside Lira through one of the Storm Clan’s long hallways.

The new black tunic with red stripes fit comfortably. His hands, reddened with small burns from the sparring with Varn, hung at his sides, and though the pain was mild, he felt it with every finger twitch.

As they walked, Charles seized the silence to check his system status.

"System, show my stats," he whispered, barely moving his lips so Lira wouldn’t notice.

A blue interface popped into his vision, displaying numbers and bars detailing his stats:

Name: Rian Cole

Element: Lightning

Level: 6

Stats:

Health: 55/100

Energy: 71%

System Intelligence: 3

Control Level: 2

XP: 129/3200

Available Upgrade Points: 1

With the upgrade point from leveling up after beating Varn still unspent, and the night’s duel looming, Charles decided it was time.

’Gotta use it,’ he thought, frowning.

His low intelligence had limited him before, especially when navigating the glitchy system’s restrictions.

To plan his escape from the clan, he needed a sharper system.

"System, put my upgrade point into intelligence," he muttered, keeping his voice low.

To his surprise, a notification appeared instantly:

[Point assigned to Intelligence. New score: 4. Processing upgrade...]

No verification prompt, unlike before.

But a progress bar appeared, crawling at an agonizing pace.

[1%...]

’Seriously?’ Charles thought, clicking his tongue. ’Now it takes forever to apply? This system’s a mess.’

Lira, walking beside him, broke the silence before he could grumble further.

"What’d you think of the ceremony, Rian?" she asked, glancing at him.

Her tone was softer than before, but her eyes still studied him, like she was fishing for something in his reaction.

Charles shrugged, forcing a smile.

"Not bad," he said, scratching his neck. "Kinda awkward changing in front of everyone, but... the tunic’s nice. And the applause was a cool touch."

Lira gave a short, almost sarcastic laugh.

"Nice," she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That tunic’s more than just looking good, Rian. It’s a symbol. You’re a Warrior now, and everyone expects you to act like one."

’Yeah, right,’ Charles thought, holding back a sigh. ’As if I care about repping the clan.’

His plan was still to bolt the first chance he got, but he knew he had to play along for now.

Before he could reply, they reached the medical area.

Charles stopped, frowning.

"Another check-up?" he asked, eyeing Lira warily. "Seriously? They checked me yesterday."

Lira crossed her arms, her expression leaving no room for argument.

"I need to confirm something," she said, pointing at the door. "Get in."

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled, pushing the door open.

’This is a waste of time,’ he thought, though part of him was getting worried.

His hands weren’t in the same state as during his last check-up.

The lightning, as the system explained, had healed him, improving his condition, but he didn’t know how to explain that without sounding shady.

Inside, Clara, the receptionist from his last visit, was organizing notes in her notebook.

Seeing them, she smiled and waved.

"Miss Lira, Mr. Rian," she said warmly. "The doctor’s waiting. This way."

Charles nodded, forcing a smile.

Lira followed, and he could feel her stare boring into the back of his neck.

They entered an examination room.

A padded cot with built-in sensors sat in the center, surrounded by shelves of metal tools and jars of ointments.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with glasses, was tinkering with a handheld scanner on a table.

Seeing them, he stood, adjusting his glasses with a kind smile.

"Mr. Rian, Miss Lira," he said, nodding. "Good to see you. Rian, how are your hands? I hear you’ve been... active."

Charles scratched his neck, trying to play it cool.

’Crap,’ he thought, realizing his mistake.

He hadn’t considered that the doctor would already know about the Varn sparring.

His hands, which yesterday could barely hold a glass, were much better thanks to the lightning, but the fresh burns were obvious.

He shrugged, playing it off.

"Uh... a bit better, I guess," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Not a big deal."

Lira wasn’t letting him off.

With a quick move, she grabbed his right wrist, lifting his hand.

"Doctor," she said firmly, "check this. Rian fought again, using his ability."

Charles winced, feeling Lira’s grip.

He knew squirming would only make it worse.

The doctor stepped closer, frowning at the reddened skin and small burns.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Rian," he said, a mix of concern and reproach, "I told you to avoid using your ability. You fought again? Using that explosive fire?"

Charles sighed, forcing a crooked smile.

"Yeah, well... just a small sparring match," he said. "Nothing major. Only used my power a couple times. I was careful, swear."

Lira cut in, crossing her arms.

"Doctor, please examine his hands thoroughly," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "I need his exact condition."

The doctor nodded, though he seemed nervous under Lira’s gaze.

"Of course," he said, gesturing to the cot. "Rian, sit here. Let’s check."

Charles grumbled under his breath but obeyed, plopping onto the cot.

Lira stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder, like she thought he’d bolt.

’This is dumb,’ he thought, staring at the ceiling.

But part of him was nervous.

If the doctor noticed anything weird about his recovery, it could spell trouble.

The doctor slipped on sterilized gloves and approached with a tray of tools.

First, he cleaned Charles’s hands with a cloth soaked in a stinging herbal liquid.

Charles gritted his teeth but stayed quiet.

Then, the doctor used a handheld scanner, a silver device emitting a blue glow.

He passed it slowly over Charles’s hands, watching a small screen displaying real-time data.

Occasionally, he pressed specific points with a thin metal tool, jotting notes on a tablet.

"Fascinating," the doctor muttered, frowning as he examined the left hand. "The burns are recent but superficial. No significant inflammation."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

’Superficial?’ he thought.

The doctor continued, using the scanner to analyze internal tissues.

The screen showed detailed images of nerves and muscles, and he scribbled notes, muttering to himself.

Finally, he straightened, removing his glasses to clean them.

"This is... unexpected," he said, looking at Lira. "Yesterday, Rian’s hands were in critical condition. Nerves barely responded, and we feared he’d need weeks to regain mobility. But now..."

He paused, staring at Charles’s hands in awe. "Internal damage is minimal. Nerves are functioning at 90%. The external burns are new, likely from today’s fight, but they don’t affect the internal structure."

Lira frowned, clearly puzzled.

"Are you sure?" she asked, leaning forward.

Her tone was sharp, eyes boring into the doctor for any hint of a mistake.

The doctor swallowed but held his ground.

"Absolutely sure," he said, adjusting his glasses. "I’ve checked three times. Rian’s hands are in far better shape than expected. It’s... extraordinary."

’In his head, this guy thinks I’m a medical miracle,’ Charles thought, stifling a grin.

The lightning had done more than heal him; it’d turned him into a puzzle for the medical guild, which held the Cole family in high regard.

Charles jumped in, shrugging.

"So, I can fight tonight, right?" he said lightly. "If I’m at 90%, I’m good to go."

Lira shot him an exasperated look.

"Not so fast," she said, turning to the doctor. "Is it true? Can he fight in the arena without risk?"

The doctor hesitated, scratching his chin.

"Technically, yes," he said cautiously. "His physical condition is more than adequate. But I’d recommend an ointment and bandages to protect the external burns. I can apply them now."

Lira sighed, muttering something under her breath.

Then, louder, "I’ll confirm with other specialists," she said, crossing her arms. "No risks."

The doctor paled but nodded politely.

"Of course, Miss Lira," he said. "You can consult anyone you like, but my assessment is solid."

Charles felt a surge of relief.

The doctor didn’t suspect anything odd about his recovery.

If anything, he seemed impressed, like Charles was a rare case.

’This works in my favor,’ he thought, though Lira’s stern expression unnerved him.

’What’s she plotting?’ he wondered, frowning.

Lira’s knack for details and her push for more specialists made him uneasy.

"So, we done? Can I go?" Charles said, hopping off the cot, trying to sound casual.

Lira stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Not yet," she said firmly. "First, the ointment and bandages. Then we’ll see."

Charles groaned but didn’t argue.

As the doctor applied a cool ointment and wrapped his hands in light bandages, Charles’s mind drifted to the night’s duel.

Two Masters, an arena packed with spectators, and the pressure of representing the clan.