The Gate Traveler-Chapter 7: Medicine to Magic: A Bridge to Becoming a Healer

Driving down the mountain, I thought about what still needed doing. First stop, visiting the Gate—refill mana and practice the two spells I’d bought.

What else?

More ability points. I spent all the points I earned. At this rate, I’d need at least another twenty, maybe even more.

Now that the life insurance has cleared, maybe it’s time to buy what I’ll need for the journey?

A broken motorcycle lay on its side, smoke rising into the air. Adrenaline jolted me out of my thoughts. I veered over, the car jerking to a stop on the shoulder. Without a second thought, I leaped out, the car door swinging wide behind me as I jogged toward the wreck.

I scanned the area for the rider, noticing the motorcycle pieces spread on the road and the skid marks. My eyes followed the trajectory, focusing on the place where the bike had slammed into the guardrail, leaving scars on the metal.

But where was the rider?

Desperate for any sign of movement, I examined the area thoroughly. Just beyond the guardrail, a path of broken branches and torn leaves sloped downward like nature pointed the way—a grim trail down the steep incline. Fumbling for my phone, I dialed emergency services, my eyes locked on the twisted path through the brush. As soon as the dispatcher confirmed help was on the way, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and looked down, following the trajectory of the broken branches. How long would it take them to get here? I checked my watch again and again; the seconds stretched, and my urgency rose. My hands gripped the guardrail, swinging me over and onto the steep slope beyond.

Sliding down, branches scratched my arms, and the sharp tang of iron reached me before he came into view. There he was—a broken figure wedged between a boulder and a tree, his skin pale and blood pooling beneath him, spreading fast. No helmet. That was bad. I knelt beside him and pressed my fingers to his neck. The pulse was barely there, a slow beat that matched his shallow breathing. His skin was ice cold. I couldn’t waste a second; this guy was fading fast.

First aid wouldn’t be enough—not with how quickly life drained from him. My training ran through my mind instantly: bandages, CPR, pressure points. None of it would stop the bleeding in time, and there wasn’t a defibrillator in sight.

I needed more—something beyond medical protocol.

My mind leaped to magic. Minor Heal flashed through my mind, and before I knew it, I cast the spell, pressing my trembling hand against his chest. Mana flowed from me into him, warm and steady.

At first, I thought it was working. A cut on his forehead closed, the skin knitting together neatly. But that was it. His pulse didn’t strengthen. His breathing didn’t improve. The blood beneath him kept spreading.

“Come on,” I muttered, my voice cracking with frustration.

The spell wasn’t enough. It wasn’t meant for injuries like this. It fixed cuts and scrapes, maybe a broken bone or two, but not ruptured organs, and massive blood loss.

With a clenched jaw, I shoved my frustration aside. I needed to see the damage—to understand what was happening inside his body like I had done with my muscles before. With closed eyes, I steadied my breath, focused, and reached out with my intent to sense beyond what my eyes could see.

Nothing. It was frustrating, but I had no intention of giving up. Magic follows intent—that much I figured out already.

Steeling myself, I took charge of my mana, directing it with raw determination as I poured it into him, urging it to “see.” The mana passed through him. Concentrate. Intention. The mana seeped deeper, my focus sharpening until, piece by piece, the hidden damage in his body revealed itself. Fractures, ruptured organs, brain bleed, and a weak pulse—his body barely clinging on. Ten minutes, maybe less.

Something popped into my vision. Not now. I dismissed it and refocused on the injured man before me. Every second counted. The faint pulse of his carotid artery, barely there, showed just how close he was to crossing that line. My mind quickly cataloged the most critical injuries I detected: a severe intracranial bleed, and a fractured cervical spine. He shouldn’t have even been breathing. This was a race against time—and everything I knew from the textbooks.

I zeroed in on the brain bleed. Hemorrhagic pressure would build, squeeze delicate neural tissue, and cut off vital pathways. I poured mana into his head—visualizing the brain’s anatomy, the vessels, and the veins—and willed the bleeding to stop. It was a command, not a plea. Direct mana into the skull and ensure it follows a careful path. My intent was laser sharp, bending the magic to target the burst vessels and coax them closed.

The magic resisted, like it had a will of its own, trying to slip away and disperse. I didn’t let it. This was life or death, and there was no room for rebellion. I pushed back, clamping down on my control, feeling my mana struggle under the strain like a bucking bull. The bleeding slowed and stopped. Relief washed over me, but I couldn’t relax yet.

Again, a pop-up in my vision. Not now, I thought firmly, pushed it aside, and kept my attention where it mattered.

Mana: 580/3000.

My heart sank when I saw how low my mana was. I couldn’t waste it. This guy’s life depended on a calculated approach—first things first—the broken neck. My fingers brushed over the damaged vertebrae, visualizing the precise alignment needed to restore stability and prevent further damage. Gently, I coaxed the bone fragments back together in my mind, picturing the cells knitting, aligning with my intent. The mana flowed and again tried to escape my control, but I didn’t let it. It shaped itself to my demands until I felt a subtle shift, a faint but solid click. Good. At least that was done.

Mana: 530/3000. So far, so good.

But the brain was still at risk. The bleeding may have stopped, but the pressure remained, a deadly force pushing against the delicate tissue. The cerebral matter couldn’t hold out long under that strain. I focused hard, ordering the surrounding tissues to absorb the blood. Slow, controlled. It had to be. The tissues swelled, unable to hold it all. Too much. Any more, and they would rupture. My pulse raced. No suction. No tools. Just mana. And this ticking time bomb.

Calm down. Think. Every second counted. If I lost control now, it was over. My mind raced. What to do? What to do!? Then, like a light bulb in my mind, an idea struck me.

I cast Mana Dart, hoping it would work. But as soon as the spell formed, it shot off, slicing into a tree and showering me with leaves. I gritted my teeth. Focus.

I tried again, casting the spell while clamping down on it mentally and physically, feeling the dart’s desperate push to break free. The energy pulsed in my hand, straining to launch, like holding back a buzzing laser fragment. The spell was designed to launch a directed projectile, but I wasn’t about to let it.

I tightened my grip, directing more mana into the dart, forcing it to remain in place, feeling the resistance in every energy tremor. Slowly, I molded it with my will like a sculptor working with clay. The tip extended and narrowed into a thinner, sharper edge. Every bit of focus went into refining that tip, making it sharp, to penetrate without tearing.

Finally, with the dart elongated into a fine-tipped tool, I carefully aligned the tip, pressed it to his skin, and breached it with a controlled puncture. It wasn’t an ordinary spell anymore but a precision instrument.

Watching carefully, I mentally latched onto the pool of blood pressing against his brain and, with a push of mana, coaxed it toward the opening, guiding it out. The mana listened to me more now. There was still resistance, but it was weaker, and only for a second. Drop by drop, the blood drained, relieving the pressure. I didn’t dare to breathe, sensing each pulse, each slow release, until finally, the last of it drained. As soon as all the blood was out, I channeled more mana and willed the small wound to close, weaving the tissue back together. There was almost no resistance.

Another red dot appeared in my vision—a pop-up notification, but I couldn’t afford distractions. I mentally swiped it away again.

Mana: 350/3000.

Drained and dizzy, my hands shook, but I steadied them, took a deep breath, and focused on one last burst of mana. Placing my palms on his head, I concentrated on the general idea of healing, not targeting anything specific, but sending out a general force to stabilize him and push his body in the right direction.

The last bit of mana poured out of me, leaving me empty and swaying. My vision blurred. Black and yellow spots danced in my field of vision. The world tilted at its axis. A heavy wave of exhaustion passed through me, dragging me toward oblivion. I breathed deeply, each inhale pulling me back to reality. The spinning in my head finally stopped, and the spots in front of my eyes partially cleared.

Mana: 50/3000.

Another pop-up flashed in my vision. I shut my eyes, barely mustering the energy to think. Go away.

I was running on fumes—magic couldn’t do any more here. With a deep breath, I grounded myself in what I knew best: hands-on care.

My fingers went to his neck, feeling for any misalignment that might still pose a risk, and I gently adjusted his head to keep his airway clear. His breaths were shallow but steady, a fragile rhythm I didn’t want to disrupt.

Quickly, I moved to his limbs, assessing each one with careful pressure to pinpoint fractures or breaks. His left arm was bent at an unnatural angle. Gripping it firmly, I secured it against his side, fashioning a makeshift sling from the strips of fabric torn from a shirt to prevent further injury.

Next, I worked on his leg, finding swelling around the knee—likely dislocated. I braced myself, then pulled it into alignment with a quick, firm motion, securing it as best as possible with a broken arrow and strips of fabric. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold until help arrived.

Finally, I tore off a piece of clean cloth and pressed it to his abdomen, applying gentle pressure to slow the bleeding. With his injuries stabilized as much as possible, I kept my fingers on his pulse, counting each faint beat and willing him to hold on.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder, cutting through my tension. I pulled my phone from my pocket, redialing the police station. As soon as the line connected, I spoke quickly, keeping my voice calm but urgent. “This is the caller from the motorcycle accident. I’m with the rider, down the slope off the road. I’m a doctor—he’s in critical condition but stable for now. Let the responders know where to find us.”

In moments, red and blue lights flashed through the trees above, and two paramedics climbed over the guardrail, hurrying down to where I crouched beside the injured man.

One paramedic hurried over, speaking rapidly in German. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak German,” I interrupted, shaking my head.

He blinked, then switched to accented English. “Sorry. Thank you for keeping him alive, doctor,” he said, eyes moving over the makeshift sling and the splint on the rider’s leg. “We take from here.”

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I stepped back to give them space. “Monitor for signs of internal bleeding. Fractures in the left leg and arm, potentially the ribs as well. Significant blood loss from an abdominal laceration.”

The paramedic nodded, brow creasing as he took it in. “Yes, understood. We lift now,” he called to his partner.

They slid a backboard beneath the injured man, and as they secured him, I helped stabilize his neck, fastening straps over each limb. Together, we lifted him carefully, coordinating our movements. The climb up the slope was slow, and every step was measured to keep him steady.

At the top, they transferred him onto the gurney, waiting by the guardrail. The ambulance’s lights bathed the road in a rotating glow as they wheeled him toward it. One paramedic glanced back at me and gave a nod. “Thank you again, doctor. He is a bad injury, but with you help, he have chance.”

I nodded back, the weight lifting from my chest as they loaded him into the ambulance. The doors closed, and as the vehicle pulled away, I watched the flashing lights disappear into the distance, hoping he’d make it through.

Warmth filled my chest as I watched the ambulance disappear, leaving me on the roadside with the police. In my nine years in the ER, I'd saved countless lives, but this felt different. It wasn’t just another case with a team of doctors ready to step in. Here, out in the middle of nowhere, it had been just me and him—his only shot.

I glanced down at my hands, still stained with his blood. Magic sure had its uses. A dry chuckle escaped me as I shook my head. My mana was low—too low—and I needed to get to a Gate to recharge. The absurdity brought another chuckle out of me. I’d spent my whole life perfectly fine without mana. Yet here I was, worried my mana was too low and rushing to refill it. I grinned, half at myself and half at this bizarre new reality. Who would’ve thought I’d end up worrying about magical reserves?

The policemen looked at me strangely, and I straightened and schooled my features. Yeah, chuckling at the site of such an accident was bad form. I gave them my statement, answered endless questions, and they left.

Back in the car, the lingering scent of blood clung to my clothes, mixing with the faint odor of the car—air freshener and leather seats. The engine’s hum was a soothing sound that drowned out the chaos in my head. Each time headlights flashed past, my shoulders tensed. But the road pulled me back to reality, mile by mile.

The adrenaline slowly faded away, and exhaustion pressed down on me. By the time I reached my hotel, every movement felt heavy, as though my body had finally caught up with the night’s toll. But even then, the damn red dot still flashed in my vision, nagging.

“All right, all right. Let’s see what you’re trying to tell me,” I said, dropping onto the bed and picking up the room service phone. A strong coffee and a quick shower were in order before dealing with whatever these notifications had in store for me.

A short while later, a steaming cup arrived, filling the room with the rich scent of caffeine. I settled back, coffee in hand, and finally gave my full attention to the persistent messages, ready to dig through them one by one.

You have learned the spell [Diagnose]

You have learned the spell [Stop Bleeding]

You have learned the spell [Heal Bone]

You have learned the skill [Minor Spell Adaptation]

You have learned the spell [Control Blood]

You have learned the spell [Healing Touch]

Nice!

You have shown an aptitude for healing and learned six spells from the Healer Class without purchasing them.

New class unlocked: [Healer]

Would you like to take the Healer Class as your sub-class?

Note: Due to your achievement, you can take the Healer Class without spending ability points, and the class’s tier will equal that of a primary class.

Note: Taking this Class will allow you to use the banked advancement.

Y/N

I never pressed Yes so fast in my life.

Would you like to display your Healer Class as your primary class?

Y/N

Yes, again. I was worried about what to display instead of Gate Traveler. That solved it.

The red dot was still there.

Level up

+3 intelligence, +3 wisdom, +2 vitality, +3 free points

Class: Healer Level 2

Free points: 3

Level up

+3 intelligence, +3 wisdom, +2 vitality, +3 free points

Class: Healer Level 3

Free points: 6

There were no more messages, so I opened my profile to get more info.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Name: John Rue

Age: 37

Class: Gate Traveler Level 1

Gates to the next level: 0/3

Class Abilities:

• Conversion

• Travelers’ Archive

• Identify

• Storage X2 (512m³)

• Local Adaptation

Spoken Language

• One of the Crowd

• Traveler’s Map

Class: Healer Level 3

Healer Spells:

Heal Muscles (12)

Diagnose (1)

Stop Bleeding (1)

Heal Bone (1)

Control Blood (1)

Healing Touch (1)

General Spells:

Mana Dart

Mana Shield

General Skills:

• Staff Fighting (10)

• Krav Maga (10)

• Archery (10)

• Minor Spell Adaptation (1)

Health: 1,750/1,750

Mana: 52/3,000

Strength: 17

Agility: 16

Constitution: 10

Vitality: 25

Intelligence: 21

Wisdom: 16

Perception: 8

Trait points: 6

Ability points: 0

I clicked on the Healer class line.

Healer

This is a common and well-respected class.

Healers are capable of treating any injury or disease but require specialized spells for more complex conditions, such as poisoning or curses.

The class provides three starting spells upon acquisition and grants an additional spell every five levels.

When a Healer maxes out a spell at level 25, they can select another spell from the list to level up.

Healers have an easier time learning spells from the Life and Nature disciplines.

Each level grants +3 intelligence, +3 wisdom, +2 vitality, +3 free points.

I checked my profile again, but didn’t see the three promised spells. A click on the spell line, and a message appeared:

Congratulations on receiving the [Healer Class]

You received the following spells:

Assess—you already have a higher version of this spell. A new option was added.

Minor Heal—you already have a higher version of this spell. A new option was added.

Clean

Neutralize Poison

Purify

When I closed the message, the new spells appeared under the Healer class. I checked them one by one, including the Heal Muscles that I never actually checked before.

Heal Muscles

A targeted healing spell designed to repair and rejuvenate strained, torn, or damaged muscles. Its focused nature makes it a reliable option for those who suffer from repetitive strain or physical trauma without affecting other tissues. Its effectiveness improves slightly with each level.

Diagnose

An essential diagnostic spell that allows the caster to identify injuries, illnesses, and physical abnormalities within a target's body. Diagnose provides detailed insights into the condition, including fractures, internal bleeding, infections, or magical ailments. The spell’s accuracy and the depth of its findings improve slightly with each level.

Stop Bleeding

A lifesaving spell that halts both internal and external bleeding. Stop Bleeding quickly seals veins and arteries, stabilizing the target and preventing further blood loss in emergency situations. While it doesn’t heal injuries, it buys crucial time for further treatment or healing. Its reliability increases slightly with each level.

Heal Bone

A focused healing spell for repairing fractures, breaks, and other bone-related injuries. Heal Bone stabilizes and knits bone tissue, reducing the risk of long-term damage or improper healing. This spell is particularly useful for adventurers or warriors recovering from combat injuries. Its effectiveness improves slightly with each level.

Control Blood

A versatile spell that grants the caster limited control over the flow and behavior of blood within a target's body. Control Blood can be used to enhance circulation, prevent clotting, or even redirect blood flow to save critical areas. While it doesn’t heal injuries, its utility in stabilizing life-threatening conditions makes it invaluable. Its precision improves slightly with each level.

Healing Touch

A more advanced general healing spell that mends a wide range of injuries and ailments, from fractures and cuts to internal damage and moderate diseases. Healing Touch delivers powerful restorative effects, making it a superior choice for critical injuries or severe conditions. Its effectiveness improves slightly with each level.

Minor Spell Adaptation

A versatile support skill that enhances a caster’s ability to adjust spells for unique circumstances. Minor Spell Adaptation allows small modifications to existing spells, such as altering their range, duration, or target area. While the adjustments are subtle, they provide valuable flexibility in dynamic or unpredictable situations. Its adaptability improves slightly with each level.

As I read through the new spells, each one felt like a punch to the heart—a painful reminder of what could have been if things had been different. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white, and my joints cracked. A familiar hollow ache spread through my chest. If I had these powers a year ago, I could’ve healed Sophie. The thought cut me to ribbons, tearing wide wounds full of anger and regret.

It felt like a cruel joke—the universe gave me these abilities only when they couldn’t help the person who most needed them. My legs buckled, and I sank onto the bed. Tears spilled over as my fists hit the mattress. Anger and helplessness tangled into a raw, broken release I couldn’t hold back. I cried until the grief finally ebbed, leaving only a hollow acceptance. Nothing could change the past. Not even magic.

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The next day, I woke up feeling wiped out but dead set on moving forward. Instead of converting my new free stats into ability points, I put them all into Perception. It was my lowest stat, and I wanted to understand it better. The moment I assigned the points, a mild wave of dizziness washed over me, similar to the disorienting feeling when stepping off an escalator too abruptly. It passed in an instant. My vision sharpened, and everything looked more real—more solid and present.

Colors seemed brighter, each shade more distinct. Edges were more sharp and precise, like someone changed the world to HD. I could make out soft footsteps outside my door and the murmur of voices as they passed. A faint scent of detergent on my clothes became more pronounced. The lightest breeze drifted in through the window, cool on my skin, mixing with the distant hum of street noise, and the traces of toothpaste in my mouth made themselves known. The change wasn’t as dramatic as I expected. To my deepest regret, no eagle vision or bionic hearing manifested. But my perception of the world sharpened—like everything was “more there.”

Curiosity got the best of me, so I checked my profile for anything else besides the Healer class. My health went up a bit, but it didn’t seem linked to any of my stats, which left me scratching my head. The numbers didn’t reflect any specific stat.

Then my eyes stopped on the six new points in Intelligence, which, according to the books I read, should have meant a rise in mana. But my total mana hadn’t changed. This didn’t follow fantasy logic. I leaned back, frowning, and tried to figure out the changes or the lack thereof.

All right, let’s figure you out, I thought, reaching for my stack of “manuals.” There had to be something I’d missed. Maybe intelligence affected mana in some stories, but not all? Plus, most stories linked Vitality or Constitution to health. I had both, but the numbers didn’t add up.

Sadly, another day of research didn’t yield any results.

With a sigh, I closed the last book, feeling as confused about these stats as I had this morning. If none of these “manuals” had a straightforward answer, maybe the only way to understand them was to live with these changes.

There was no point in overthinking it for now. I’d come back to it eventually, but right now, I had a journey to prepare for. Frankfurt awaited, and I didn’t have time to figure out every stat. I tucked the iPad away, took one last look around the room, and stored everything in my magical Storage, ready to move on.