Healing System-Chapter 267 Shadows of the Past

"I have a favor to ask of you," Michael stated, sitting in the comfortable black seat of the limousine.

In front of him was the same man who had invited him in, pouring himself a glass of wine.

But of course, he offered a glass to Michael as well. "Would you like some?"

"I'm good." Michael pushed the wine away with mana, causing the old man's brows to furrow.

"I've never met anyone who doesn't like wine."

"Not the time. Now, back to the topic at hand." Michael straightened his back. "Look into the identity of a Michael Dalton—former military, later became a mercenary. Preferably, check if he has any living relatives as well."

"That is no problem," the old man stated, pulling out a laptop.

Michael was expecting to wait for a couple of minutes. However, before he could even take another breath, the old man was already done and rotated the laptop over to him.

On the screen, there was a single result.

<This person does not exist.>

"Not the result you were looking for, I'd imagine?" the old man asked, putting the laptop to the side and getting comfortable. "I am all ears."

"I want you to check one more thing—Ron Dalton. He should be around 78 this year," Michael said before adding, "Marie Dalton was his wife—died of a lung disease."

The old man returned to typing and, just like before, came up with a similar result.

And upon seeing it, Michael was relieved.

<Ron Dalton: Active.>

<Current Residence: N.Y. Manhattan ###>

<Note: Individual has a developing lung condition. Provide any medical aid free of charge.>

"He's living here?" Michael's eyes widened as he read that.

"Do you wish to see him?" the old man asked, and Michael hesitated before nodding.

"Yes..."

At his words, the old man tapped the side panel of the car, and soon, their directions changed as they began heading to the address on the laptop.

"What's your name?" the old man asked. "You can call me General Simon, or simply Simon. I wouldn't mind."

"...Just call me Michael."

An amused look appeared on Simon's face. "Having the name Michael while packing wings on your back? What a coincidence."

However, the playful laughter he was expecting to get from Michael was nowhere to be seen, causing Simon to halt in place.

"You wouldn't happen to be t-the Archangel Michael from the Bible, now would you?"

"I'm not him directly," Michael shrugged. "But you could say we are related."

"Wow... We thought the others who had also come to Earth were special, but you certainly are something else entirely, aren't you?" Simon mused out loud. However, Michael could not care less.

"Remind me where Marie Dalton is buried."

"It's in the local cemetery off in the—"

"I remember now," Michael interjected. "Thanks for all your help, Simon. But I do wonder—why exactly are you helping me? Are you trying to get me on your side or something?"

"Not exactly," Simon chuckled. "Someone similar to you tried to destroy Earth once, and I'm merely trying to prevent that from repeating."

"I find it hard to believe Earth has the faculties to kill a being like us," Michael said with narrowed eyes. "Even the weakest of us could withstand a ballistic missile or two."

"How about a nuke?" Simon suddenly stated, causing Michael's eyes to widen.

"You dropped a nuke to kill them!?"

"Sacrificing a city in exchange for the lives of billions seems like a good trade-off to me, Michael."

My morals are too fucked to disagree with him... It isn't a terrible choice.

Nonetheless, Michael did not want to speak anymore, as he felt uncomfortable.

Despite the fact that his strength was much higher and he could likely destroy this entire world with an accidental sneeze, Simon reminded him of his old drill sergeant.

And saying he had nightmares about him would be an understatement.

"We're here," Simon said, opening the limousine's door and startling Michael out of his thoughts.

As he glanced through the window, he spotted a massive residential skyscraper ahead of him.

Is Father... living here? No way, right?

However, his suspicions were soon confirmed as Simon walked forward and led the way. "This way, Michael."

They walked into the lobby, and Simon showed his identity card to the receptionist, immediately gaining access to the entire building.

Therefore, they headed toward the elevator, and Simon pressed the uppermost floor—the 100th floor.

The way up was slow, or it merely felt slow to Michael.

After all, it had been nearly 15 years since he had last seen his father face to face.

Or more like 20 by now—since after he died, time did not exactly stop, and the body whose memories he had received had lived a fair amount.

Nonetheless, all that mattered was that his father wasn't dead.

"You seem nervous," Simon pointed out. "Don't be. Seeing someone you used to know is something every single returnee does when they come back."

"...I am aware," Michael replied.

And soon, the last of the elevator's lights flickered, and finally, they had arrived at the 100th floor.

However, as they did, and Michael finally took in his surroundings, he noticed something was off.

There was indeed a person behind the single massive door in front of him, but they were rapidly losing life force.

A wave of panic washed over Michael as he dashed toward the door and slammed straight through it.

As he did, he noticed an old man with black hair lying on the ground, coughing up blood, oblivious to their presence.

"Shit, I'll call the ambul—" Simon's words were interrupted when, all of a sudden, the entire atmosphere was enveloped in a chill.

And in the very next moment, Michael stretched out a single thread of mana, connecting it to his father's forehead.

In an instant, his father's expression visibly got better, and the coughing had finally stopped.

Nonetheless, Michael did not stop at that, as he carefully navigated his mana throughout his father's entire body—reinforcing and healing every single organ he had.

The same went for his skin. Just a few moments ago, his father had looked like an old man—now, he seemed barely in his twenties.

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But the fact that he was passed out could not be helped, and Michael would not try to shake him awake.

After all, if even his father did not remember him—then what did Michael have left?

The system was gone, his friends did not remember him, the only person he liked didn't even know he existed anymore.

It was tragic, and he had no idea how to fix it either.

If only I could... Michael suddenly froze at his train of thought. Time... Can I turn back time to before their memories were erased and prevent it from happening in the first place?

He thought about it seriously, but not even a moment later, he dropped that topic.

At most, he could turn back time a year, and even then, he would severely exhaust his mana reserves. And to fully restore them would take a very long time.

Coupled with that fact, Michael was very positive the gods—whoever was responsible for erasing their memories—had made sure to make time not a solution.

Fuck all of this...

He was at a standstill. Even if he did not exactly interact with people that much, knowing that they had completely forgotten him hurt.

No amount of healing magic could fix that.

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In the midst of his thoughts, a groan rang out from below him.

"Ugh... The fuck? What am I doing on the ground?"

It was his father, and Michael was unsure of how to even react. Therefore, he merely stood still like some sort of rock until, eventually, his father took notice of him.

"The fuck do you think you're doing in my house, huh? Wanna die? I have a weapon in my closet, and if you just wait here a moment, I'll go and get it, alright?"

"...S-Suit yourself, old man." Michael felt his emotions stirring like never before.

However, he wanted to try something out. Therefore, he glanced into his father's eyes and used mana.

In an instant, he gained a rough understanding of his father's thought process, and by reverse-engineering that, Michael was able to search through them thoroughly.

And of course, there was no mention of a Michael existing, as every single happening, every single diploma he had, was now gone.

Even the sudden wealth his father received was labeled as though he had won the lottery.

All of this happened in less than a second, and once Michael blinked, everything was back to normal. He began walking over to Simon, who had a look of disbelief.

"...I want you to keep watch over him until I am back."

"Y-You can truly heal? And reverse aging too? Are you sure you're not the Arch—"

Before Simon could finish his words, Michael whisked a strand of his mana outward before teleporting toward it.

Nonetheless, he had one objective now, and he slowly began flying toward it.

In less than an hour, he finally made it to Washington, D.C., and now, he was hovering down, with all sorts of news reports, public servants, and, of course, people livestreaming everything.

But at this moment, he could not care less, as he finally arrived on the ground, walking through the valley of tombstones until, eventually, Michael arrived in front of one tombstone in particular.

It was covered in moss, and it looked like it wasn't cleaned for many years.

However, the text remained clear.

<Marie Dalton, loving wife and mother>

It's still here... and the gods didn't alter the text either... Michael tried to hold himself back, but tears still slipped down his face.

"I'm back, Mother..."