After a long week of examinations and observation, Kenji and Francesca finally came to a conclusion: all the nodules were benign, with no signs of malignancy. The relief was palpable among the patients and the medical team. However, despite the effectiveness of the potions and healing magics, it became clear that nothing was granted without a cost. Accelerated healing took a toll on bodies, wearing them down in subtle but undeniable ways.

  The warriors, for example, possessed an impressive physical endurance, something that went beyond simple discipline and training. The classes to which they belonged seemed to alter not only their bodies, making them more robust, but also their minds, molding them to withstand the pain and wear and tear of constant battle. It was as if the very magic that permeated this world was intertwined with the biology of the fighters, refining their skills and adapting them to the battlefield.

  As a physician, I saw these changes up close. With each diagnosis, with each wound treated, I became more diligent and attentive. My knowledge grew not only through practice, but also through the need to understand the effects of magic on the human body. It was no longer enough to know common anatomy and physiology; now it was essential to understand the impacts of mystical forces on cellular regeneration, the side effects of magical cures, and the limits of what a body could endure before giving in.

  There were cases where patients who had been repeatedly healed by magic began to experience unexplained pain, as if their bodies no longer recognized their own natural rhythm of recovery. Others, exposed to too many potions, developed a subtle dependence, becoming unable to recover without outside help. These observations led me to wonder: to what extent were we really helping our patients? Were we healing them, or were we simply masking the symptoms, forcing the body to adapt in ways we did not fully understand?

  As Kenji and Francesca recorded the week’s results, I allowed myself a moment to rest, watching the warriors prepare for another day of training. For them, the battle was never over. For me, the search for balance between traditional medicine and magic was a war too—one I had to win, not just for myself, but for all those who trusted me.

  Francesca

  After a long week of examinations with Kenji, Francesca finally came to a conclusion: nothing really serious had been detected. None of the nodules examined showed signs of malignancy. Relief was immediate, but something inside her remained uneasy.

  She had never heard of this “disease” called cancer. However, as she watched Kenji’s concern and the seriousness with which he treated the possibility, it became clear to her how devastating it could be. The idea of an evil growing silently within the body, corrupting it from the inside out, was terrifying. As a healer, she was used to treating wounds, poisons, and common illnesses, but this… this was different. It was something insidious, something that could not be cured with potions or spells alone.

  With the results in hand, she took a deep breath and felt a mix of duty accomplished and renewed respect for Kenji’s work. Their joint research had been an enriching experience, and she had loved every moment of it. Learning from him had opened up a new perspective on medicine and the scientific methods he used. While she was guided by intuition and the touch of magic, Kenji worked with logic, reasoning, and detailed knowledge of the human body. And somehow, the two complemented each other.

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  "My duties as a healer are complete for now," she muttered to herself, closing the last scroll of notes.

  She stood and walked back to the healers’ tent, where she resumed her daily work. Yet something inside her had changed. The curiosity sparked by this research would not be easily silenced. Perhaps it was time to study more about the illnesses Kenji mentioned, to better understand this delicate balance between the natural and the supernatural, between conventional medicine and magic.

  Her respect for Kenji had grown immensely. He was not only a skilled doctor, but someone with a keen eye, willing to question how things worked rather than simply accept them. Working alongside him had been an incredible experience, and she hoped they could collaborate again in the future.

  With a small smile, Francesca returned to work, but now with a new purpose burning within her.

  Kenji

  It had been a month since the last attack. The silence on the battlefields was almost eerie, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the outcome of this long war. But by all appearances, the conflict was finally coming to an end.

  That morning, General Fabrizio gathered all his soldiers together and announced the long-awaited news: the enemy forces were retreating, and the war was finally nearing its end. A mixture of relief and uncertainty ran through the army ranks. For many, war was all they had ever known. What would they do now?

  With a firm gaze, the general began to dismiss the soldiers one by one, ensuring that each received a fair reward for their service. Coin purses jingled in the warriors’ calloused hands as they departed to uncertain destinations. Among them were the healers, who were also recognized for their essential role in the war. Kenji, in turn, received a generous sum of money for his services to the army. He was not a warrior on the battlefield, but his work had saved countless lives. And now, he too was free to follow his own path.

  Untethered from the army, Kenji was sent to the main city, where a new phase of his life began. The medieval city was grand, filled with stone buildings and bustling streets. Merchants hawked their wares, children ran among the stalls, and bards sang songs about war heroes. Kenji walked the streets and, with the money he received, decided to rent a spacious house. But he didn’t want just comfort—he wanted to do something meaningful.

  It was then that he had an idea.

  The war had taught him a lot, and he realized the lack of medical knowledge among the local healers. Even those with magical abilities relied solely on instinct and spells, without truly understanding how the human body worked. What if he could change that? What if he could train new doctors, teaching them modern, rational practices?

  Without hesitation, Kenji began his new project. He turned his home into a teaching center and recruited apprentices. At first, few believed in his ideas, but as his techniques proved effective, more and more people came to respect him. His name spread, and soon, he was no longer just a doctor—he became a professor of medicine.

  Kenji gained a new class: Professor of Medicine .

  With his knowledge, he changed not only his own life, but the lives of many others. His legacy was just beginning, and the medieval city would never be the same again.