Chapter 1: Chapter 1: How come this guy has mana?

Chapter 1: How come this guy has mana?

Ossilo was not your typical elf. He didn't live in a forest, he lived in a town, thank you very much. He didn't shoot with the bow; he had a staff and was a healer.

Furthermore, he might also do some weekend baking for charity, but that was something that he viewed as a hobby. For, Ossilo liked to view life as something to be enjoyed. Not something one had to rage against. Like most of his green-clad brethren.

On a bright November morning, as Ossilo was looking over a patient, who had a sprained ankle, suddenly he felt something off about the man. His mana sizzled out in an instant, and didn't return.

"Healer, what just happened?" Ulric, the patient on the chair, asked. Ossilo flexed mana into his fingertips. He could use it just fine. He honestly didn't know what the problem was.

"You could have caught a cold," Ossilo began. There were conspiracy theories going around that a cold could cut your mana from you. Ossilo liked to believe in them. At least, when no one was around to judge him.

Mana was like blood. It went through pathways, not the veins themselves, but through the nerves of the body. If something happened to the nerve endings, it was perfectly logical that the mana would sizzle out and not come back.

There were so many sicknesses that happened because of damaged nerves that...

"Healer, what is wrong with me?" Ulric shouted, his hands on Ossilo's shoulder to shake him back to paying attention.

"Your nerves..." Ulric gave out an indignant shout, and got out of the chair. The burly man towered over Ossilo.

"What have you done to me?" The man snapped.

Well, Ossilo knew for a fact that humans had a short fuse. That, if provoked, could turn dangerous. That was true for all races. There was only one thing that could be done at this moment. Ossilo pressed the panic button under his desk, and waited.

"You tell me what you did, you charlatan, or..." the furious man shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. A man burst in through the door with a baton.

"What took you so long?" Ossilo snapped. Usually, Krekor, his security guard, was faster. Also, usually, he didn't have to work, for most of Ossilo's patients were calmer than Ulric.

"Boss, my mana is gone," Krekor spoke. Then, he rose the baton high. "Trouble?"

"Krekor, escort Mister Ironhand out," Ossilo said, trying to make some distance between himself and Ulric.

"What did you do?" Ulric shouted again. Krekor, who was a bit burlier than the blacksmith, went and got between his employer and the furious man.

"Ulric, come now. Be reasonable. I don't have mana, either. Yet, the healer didn't touch me," Krekor took Ulric under the arm, and began to drag him out.

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"I will get the charlatan for this. My livelihood is ruined," Ulric screamed. Ossilo slumped in his chair and ran a hand over his forehead.

Flexing his mana in his fingers again, he noted that he still had full control over it. This was good. If this was a virus and people were losing their mana all over the place, then, he was the only healer who could use mana.

In his mind, that made him invaluable. In the mind of the crowd that Ulric gathered before the clinic, he was dead meat.

The first stones were hurled out, and Ossilo stared in mute horror, as his priceless stained-glass window was shattered. It was a family heirloom. His grandparents had been proud that he was a healer. So much so, that they had given him the window.

What the crowd didn't know was, that, Ossilo had a teleportation ring. The elf gathered everything he could from the office, knowing full well that his things from his house were lost. If his house wasn't burning right now.

Ossilo counted a thousand gold coins, some food, a spare change of clothes, and a bottomless bag. He fed the bottomless bag with mana and stuffed all the other items inside. Then, he teleported.

The thing about teleportation rings is that, they took you to random places. The general rules were that, the mana concentration in the place of arrival will be higher than the place of departure.

So, when Ossilo found himself before a dreary castle, he knew that there was someone with mana inside. He also knew, from the many walking skeletons before the entrance of the castle, that this someone was a necromancer.

Cursing his luck, Ossilo tried to teleport someplace else, only for the ring to refuse to take him anywhere.

"You have to be kidding me. How come there is no one with mana bar this necromancer?" Ossilo mumbled, attempting not to attract the attention of the skeletons.

"You should get inside, before I sic my minions on you, healer," a voice boomed from the castle.

Ossilo paled at that. He had been spotted. The skeletons made something like a tunnel, and Ossilo went through it. When he entered the castle, he was greeted by a smiling blonde that was wearing a necromancer's robe and had glasses on.

"It worked. It really worked," the blonde said, laughing to himself.

"What worked, sir?" Ossilo wondered if the man was deranged. That was a common affliction with necromancers.

"The book said that only my soulmate will be able to find me. You came. Oh, but we don't know each other. My name is Octavian. And you must be Ossilo?" The blonde offered his hand, and Ossilo shook it. Eyes glancing at the skeletons behind him every so often.

"I came because something happened to the mana of the villagers," Ossilo mumbled, as the necromancer pulled him closer.

"It matters not. You are here and here you will remain. You are an elf, right? How do you feel about being infected with vampirism?" At Octavian's question, Ossilo attempted to get his hand out of the insane blonde's grip. Only for the man to pull him inside the castle and for the gates to close behind them.

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