I Can Copy And Evolve Talents-Chapter 797: The Healer

Braham observed the look on Northern’s face for a moment before his eyes widened.

"Oh! No, no, don’t be mistaken, dear friend. These are extensions of my talent ability as a Savant," he said with a grin. "Thanks to me, these severely injured Drifters can regain the fullness of their former selves and return to battle whole."

As he spoke, he walked toward an empty space and crouched. Braham lingered for a few moments, staring at a flat slab of wood lying on the ground.

Then, after a brief pause, he finally reached out and touched it.

Immediately, the wood responded. It moved as though it had come to life, its brown surface stretching and reshaping until, at last, a coffin lay before him.

Braham rose to his feet, turning his gaze toward Northern.

He hesitated for a beat, then narrowed his eyes.

"Do I know you?"

Northern shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

"I’m not sure you do."

Not everyone was Annette. Besides, he had changed so much over the past few months—almost a year since their return. He had gone from having pale, lifeless skin to an alabaster complexion, and now, an olive tone.

Even though the black and blue hues of his hair were fading, it wasn’t completely white. It didn’t carry the pristine, almost ethereal whiteness.

Northern did not expect anyone to recognize him.

And that was a good thing.

But some would, despite the changes. Just not Braham. They hadn’t spent much time together.

Which made it all the more impressive that Braham even had a suspicion.

’What about Elliot, though? Isn’t that bastard still walking around with my face?’

Northern doubted it. Though he had never explicitly warned Hao against it, Northern suspected the trader had taken precautions to ensure his employer’s face wasn’t appearing everywhere.

Braham stepped aside slightly, motioning to the newly-formed coffin.

"Anyway, put her here. With the wood encasing her, I’ll be able to diagnose her condition and treat accordingly. But her recovery will take at least twenty-four hours, depending on the severity of her injuries."

Northern moved forward and carefully laid Roma inside the wooden coffin. He didn’t know if he could trust Braham, but at this moment, there wasn’t much of a choice. And at least the rat of a man didn’t know who he was yet, so there was no reason for him to act out of the ordinary.

Even so, that logic was hard to swallow.

Braham was a despicable existence—a betrayer to the core. What if he simply acted like himself?

A clawed rage curled through Northern’s chest, tearing at his lungs with every breath.

He forced himself to calm down, steadying his storming thoughts. There was no other choice but to trust the healer.

At that moment, Braham’s voice boomed with shock.

"What in the stars is this?!"

Northern looked at him, his eyes beaten by worry.

"Wh–what’s wrong?"

Braham gaped at him, then exploded.

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"What do you mean, what’s wrong?! The way her insides are ruptured—it’s like a whirlpool tore through her body! Dude! It’s a miracle she’s still breathing!!"

He slapped a hand over his gaping mouth, staring at the girl in pure shock. His eyes trembled as though struggling to process what he was seeing.

"And she’s not even a Drifter? Stars above… how could you let this happen?!"

Northern remained silent, though Braham’s words hit him with a pang of guilt, sharpening the rage already simmering inside him.

The mundane girl had proven to be viciously stubborn.

He exhaled a slow, measured breath and spoke.

"Can you help her?"

Braham paused for a moment. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face—one that made Northern uncomfortable.

His gaze settled sharply on Northern.

"Of course, I can, young man. But this isn’t just some measly injury. No one in the entire Central Plain can heal this except me."

Northern stared at him, unimpressed.

But he didn’t think Braham was lying.

Back in the Dark Continent, Braham had proven himself to be the most valuable and resourceful person in their group. And even now, Hao had encountered him as a trader and had no choice but to acknowledge the man’s resourcefulness—something that probably wasn’t even limited to his healing abilities.

But Northern knew exactly where this was going.

And that made him frown slightly.

"This will cost me, won’t it?" Braham mused, tapping his chin theatrically. "Whatever Hao is offering me won’t compensate for it. So, young man, what can you offer?"

Northern appreciated his bluntness.

It was better this way.

His eyes locked onto Braham’s, unwavering.

"I can offer you money."

That was the most he was willing to part with.

Money solved things quickly. No unnecessary attachments. No lingering ties.

And most importantly, it meant he could sever any connection to Braham as soon as possible.

Because that was the only way to stop himself from one day making the mistake of killing the healer.

But Braham…

The damned guy shook his head, resting his hands beneath his cheek, his eyes damp with thoughts for a fleeting moment.

"Hmm, hmm, no, no. I don’t accept money. Many people may value money above all else, but you see… I’ve had to learn the hard way that money is, in fact, the least valuable of all things."

Northern raised a brow.

’What is this bastard saying…?’

Not that he didn’t understand Braham’s point. Going around making people owe you was a clever way to accumulate riches—not just in wealth, but in power. It was a form of currency that opened boundless possibilities for a single person.

It was real value.

Which was precisely why whatever Braham was saying—whatever he was leading up to—was beginning to disgust Northern.

Braham’s lips curled into a delighted smile as his gaze swept over Northern, sizing him up from the tip of his boots to the peak of his hair.

The way he smiled—too pleased, too entertained—was both unsettling and infuriating.

Northern’s fingers clenched into a fist and trembled at his side.

Braham was the reason why the last war between Sloria and Lotheliwan had happened.

The bastard had stabbed all of them in the back for his own gain—and even got away with it.

Technically, Northern hadn’t been part of their group in the same way, but the war had forced his hand. It had made him kill humans too.

He didn’t blame Braham for his actions.

He just hated the rat for what he was. Enjoy new tales from novelbuddy

But right now, his care—the sheer urgency of seeing Roma healed—was far greater than his hatred for Braham.

After a few more agonizing seconds, the healer finally spoke, still smiling.

"I find myself rather infatuated with the armor you’re wearing right now…" His voice was soft, almost playful. "So, tell me… can I have it?"

Northern’s expression darkened instantly.

"What?... You want my armor?"

His voice was laced with quiet, burning disbelief.