Apocalypse Healer - Path of Death-Chapter 12B2 - Platineersilk

While it looked like no monsters were heading in their direction, David wasn’t foolish enough to believe the peace would last.

“Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?” he asked Zachariah, ignoring Torb, who still hadn’t stopped waving the shirt around like it was some kind of national treasure.

Zachariah opened his eyes and pushed himself upright. He groaned but managed to get to his feet after a moment. Though he swayed and his legs trembled, he didn’t collapse. “I’ll be fine,” he said, but David doubted it as he watched him struggle to steady himself.

He shrugged and turned to Torb. “Can you carry Melach? I need to focus on the surroundings.”

Torb glanced at the black shirt, which looked like something summoned straight out of the Renaissance, and pouted. To David, the sight was almost ridiculous, but he wasn’t in the mood to laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said dryly.

He channeled more Blood into his eyes and drained the remaining Essence from the Velociraptor corpses before walking off in the direction with the fewest monsters. A cacophony of battle noises echoed from the left, tempting him to join the fray and unleash himself against the ferocious predators. But he forced himself to stay focused—there were lives depending on him.

Did I change that much? David ridiculed himself inwardly. In the first few days of the integration, he had been reckless and cruel—maybe even selfish. It didn’t matter—he hadn’t cared then. But now that he was closer to the others, he didn’t want to see them dead, let alone be the reason they died.

Fighting the Stone Giant and the Berserk Giant was good enough to get started with, David thought, avoiding the larger clusters of life that appeared in his field of vision as he infused more Blood into his eyes.

Zachariah and Torb, carrying Melach, followed him silently. He could feel their gazes lingering on his face whenever he glanced back but cared too little to ask what they were thinking.

They soon came to a small area filled with dense growth surrounding a large rock. David couldn’t sense anything unusual from the rock or the entrance to the small cavern he spotted nearby. Still, he entered cautiously, staying alert.

The cavern’s entrance was narrow, too small for the giant humanoids they’d encountered, let alone a creature the size of the Brachiosaur.

“This’ll do,” he muttered, scanning the surroundings. He noticed a narrow tunnel branching off inside the cavern, though it was barely tall enough to fit someone his size. Regardless, David turned to Torb. “Can you do something about the tunnel and the entrance?”

Torb nodded slowly, carefully laying Melach on the ground. A thick, earthy hue coated his hands as he used his new power to release a wave of earth, sealing the narrow tunnel and shrinking the cavern entrance to the size of a tall human.

“Satisfied?” the dwarf asked, his expression suggesting he had more to say.

“Yes,” David said with a nod, suppressing a groan. “So…what’s so special about this shirt?”

Torb’s face lit up. “You don’t understand, do you? This shirt isn’t just any shirt. Sure, it looks great, but that’s barely a perk. It’s a magical armament!”

David had already assumed as much. It had to be something special to excite Torb like this. He focused on the shirt, channeling a sliver of his awareness toward it, and sensed faint traces of energy—but that was about it.

“It’s a shirt made from Mountain Spider silk! But not just any Mountain Spider—if I’m not wrong, it’s from a Platineer Spider!” Torb exclaimed, pausing to give everyone a moment to digest the information.

“So what?” David asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You…” Torb grumbled, clearly frustrated. “Hold it!”

David raised an eyebrow but obeyed, taking the shirt from the dwarf.

The cavern’s hard stone floor shifted as the earth Torb controlled roared to life. Earthen spikes shot up toward the clothing, but instead of piercing through, the shirt hardened, blocking the incoming attacks.

“See?” Torb shouted. “It hardens to protect its wielder! But that’s not all. This shirt can probably be bound to a user, like any clothing made from Mountain Spider silk. If that’s true, it can also repair itself magically using ambient Aether and excess energy stored in the user’s mind space.”

Now that sounded interesting. David wouldn’t normally have chosen to wear something like this, but the idea of gaining extra protection resonated with him—especially knowing the shirt could self-repair after taking damage.

“That’s better than I expected. But how do you know all this?” David asked, glancing at Torb.

The dwarf smiled wryly and scratched the back of his head. “My family worked with Mountain Spiders and their silk for generations…until, well, until everything changed.”

David caught the wistfulness in his tone and guessed there was more to the story—something painful, perhaps—but he decided not to press.

“I…don’t want it,” Zachariah’s weak voice rang out from behind.

Torb scoffed and muttered something in a language David didn’t understand. Judging by the sharpness of his tone, it wasn’t anything pleasant. David turned to see the regressor wave his hand dismissively, though his tight-lipped grimace and hollow gaze didn’t sit right. Something about it felt wrong.

Meanwhile, Melach was still unconscious, but David doubted the elf would want the shirt either. Melach might have been interested in magical armaments, but he didn’t consider entering melee. The item would be wasted on him.

Should he take it?

“We can sell it for a fortune if you don’t want it,” Torb said, licking his lips and smiling happily.

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“Can I unbind it, or is it like the Obsidian Blade?” David asked, eyeing the shirt.

“It’ll cost you a bit to hire someone to sever the connection, but yes, you can unbind it. And as long as it’s intact, we can always sell it for a fortune later.”

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Torb’s smile dimmed, but he didn’t seem upset. If anything, the dwarf looked proud that the shirt was finally being valued.

“Do I have to bind it to test everything? It responded earlier.”

“It will harden when danger approaches even when unbound. To keep it soft and comfortable when you want, you’ll need to bind it to share your intentions. Additionally, it must be bound to enable self-repair,” Torb explained.

“Can I bind it and give it to Melach to wear?”

“That…” The dwarf tilted his head. “That should work. I don’t see a reason it shouldn’t.”

David found the explanation more intriguing than he had anticipated. While he still had other questions, the most important ones were already answered.

“I’ll take it if that’s fine with everyone. How do I bind it?”

He could give it to Melach if the elf wanted it, but David doubted that.

Torb’s smile widened. “Give it some of your blood and energy.”

“Blood. Got it.”

Binding the Platineersilk Shirt didn’t take long—it was a straightforward process. David pricked his finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the fabric, before closing his eyes and circulating energy through it. Following that, a crimson tether materialized in his mind space. It was thin and connected to the Source, similar to the Obsidian Blade. A moment later, the black shirt that resembled the Renaissance era appeared in his mind space. Its sleek lines seemed more pronounced, and the fabric shimmered faintly in a way it hadn’t before.

Why does it look better all of a sudden? David wondered. He opened his eyes and took off his old shirt. A moment later, he summoned the Platineersilk Shirt, raising an eyebrow.

The shirt was slightly tight, accentuating the muscles beneath. It was surprising, but so was the comfort he felt. The shirt didn’t feel taut or restrictive in any spot. If anything, it was like a second skin.

He willed the Obsidian Blade to appear in his hand and stabbed himself, but his new shirt hardened, blocking the blade.

Firm enough to block the blade. Maybe not enough if I used my full strength, but sufficient to stop most basic attacks, David concluded. He tried to will the shirt to stay loose as he stabbed it again, clicking his tongue when it hardened once more as the tip of the Obsidian Blade pierced it. Controlling the armor wasn’t going to be easy.

“That might take a while,” he muttered. His new ‘armor’ was better than nothing, but to use [Equivalent Exchange] properly, David would have to learn how to control the Platineersilk Shirt at will.

He tested his new shirt a little, cutting it several times in the process, and stored it in his mind space. The self-repair process didn’t activate immediately, but David felt it draw on the energy stored within the Source. However, contrary to Torb’s words, the magical armament didn’t absorb his Aether. Instead, it devoured traces of Blood and began repairing itself.

David decided to test a few more things later, but he first discarded the flashing interfaces in the corner of his eyes. He checked the updated status interface second.

Name: David Stears

Primary Class: Lifeweaver

Secondary Class - [None]

Rank: Bronze VI

Body:Lowest(-)(Intermediate)

Mind: Lowest(-)(Intermediate)

Soul: Low(+)(Intermediate): 8 Droplets

[Laws]

[Law of Blood]: [Middle(Minor)]

[Class Skills]

[Weave of Life]: [Tier-2 III]

[Equivalent Exchange]: [Tier-2 II]

[Blood Patch]: [Tier-1 VI]

[Skill Runes]

[Restore]: [Tier-1 XI]

[Purify]: [Tier-1 III]

[Holy Touch]: [Tier-1 XV]

[Blessing]: [Tier-1 VI]

[Blood Aegis]: [Tier-1 VII]

[Symphony Control]: [Tier-1 III]

[Blood Bullet]: [Tier-0 VII]

[Slash]: [Tier-0 V]

[Eagle Eyes]: [Tier-0 IV]

[Healing Light]: [Tier-0 VIII]

Attribute Points: 3

His Skills improved fast. Their growth was satisfying to look at, but David couldn’t help but worry that the remaining five days and a bit wouldn’t be enough for the events that awaited him and the others.

I should push several Skills to Tier 2, reach the Silver Rank, and push my stats to the limits of Intermediate or reach Advanced… David told himself, ruffling his hair.

“David!”

A sudden shout jolted David out of his thoughts. “David!” Zachariah called again, drawing his attention.

“I need some things from your storage,” the regressor demanded. “Get me the cauldron, a ten-liter flask of water, the toolset, a firestone, some lupistaer charcoal, the Silurai Flower we harvested earlier, miloar grain, and one of the Fragments of Power.”

David blinked, momentarily silent. What was Zachariah’s plan?

“We don’t have all day. I still need to concoct two potions,” Zachariah glanced at Melach, tilting his head. “...make that three…before we can get out of here.”

What was going on with Melach? The elf was physically fine. All wounds had been tended to, and David had even gone as far as using [Holy Touch] to stimulate Melach’s Energy Pathways. Why was he still unconscious?

Did I overdo it and fry his brain? He shuddered at the thought while retrieving the goods Zachariah needed: after asking repetitively what certain ingredients looked like.

He watched the regressor jump into action, conjuring two blades made of Sword Intent. One was larger and hovered before him, its flat side facing the sky. It resembled a cutting board, while the smaller Sword Intent blade carried several flower stalks over and started cutting. The blades worked swiftly, just as Zachariah did when he placed the cauldron before him.

He added water to the cauldron and started a fire.

David’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat as he watched Zachariah and his blades work together seamlessly. Several ingredients were cut, squashed, or processed differently before being put into the cauldron. It looked random at first glance, but everything was meticulously planned—down to the finest detail.

He swallowed hard as realization struck and stared at Zachariah.

“Wait—since when are you an Alchemist?!”