Knock! Knock!
The door opened wide, followed by the smell of beer and medicine so strong that no one would be able to keep a straight face.
"Morning."
Sunday walked inside the room without sparing a glance at the startled Valentine, placed a stool he brought with him next to his bed, and took a seat on it, barely fitting.
It wobbled under his weight, but soon stopped and sank down a little.
Valentine briefly glanced at the burly man, still wearing the same clothes as always, as if there was nothing else to find inside his wardrobe.
It had been roughly four days since he was brought to this cabin, spending his time lying in bed and watching the ceiling with a hollow gaze.
As some time passed, he figured out that Sunday really was a good person, becoming even more ashamed of himself for suspecting him without reason.
The very man he thought of as a monster was now tending to him like a nurse, changing his bandages in his sleep and feeding him soup, which he was reluctant to eat at first, but still tried it due to his empty stomach growling.
Hopeless.
He watched Sunday inspect his wounds like usual, trying to get any reaction from touching certain parts of his body, which brought no results.
He couldn't feel anything.
It's all hopeless.
His body was ruined.
There was nothing he could do about it.
"Now then, let me check on your condition."
Without waiting for an answer, he reached for the tightly wrapped bandages, unwrapping them so fast that Valentine didn't have time to react, only able to watch it change colors with wide eyes.
Soon, the room was filled with a heavy smell of blood.
It doesn't seem to hurt?
As the bloodied bandages came off, the shape started becoming crooked, twisted, and unnatural. It was only his arm that he unwrapped, but seeing it in such a state made Valentine's heart drop.
Moments later, he almost emptied the contents of his stomach.
Is that... my arm?
He wanted to rub his eyes out of disbelief, forgetting he couldn't move anything except for his head.
Isn't that just a piece of flesh?
The gruesome sight left him stunned.
Down his shoulder, a piece of meat was lying across the unwrapped bandages, with fragments of bone clearly shattered all over it. His clothes, or rather the clothes he had, were infused with his flesh, making its texture even more revolting.
If he saw it from the side, he would have thought that this thing was not something that could regain its previous shape, only good for amputation.
But inside it, even though he couldn't feel it, he knew it was still working.
This doesn't make any sense...
Blood seeped out from it, staining everything around it with its thick smell.
Like watching a sponge slowly drain, his flesh turned paler by the second, blood draining from his body.
"I can take care of this."
Sunday said with his usual smile, rolling up his long sleeves to reveal countless tattoos over his hairy skin.
Wh-Wha-Huh?
Valentine kept looking at his mess of a limb with a flabbergasted expression.
Take care of what!? There's nothing!
Although devastated about losing his arm, and most likely the rest of his limbs, it was clear that they could not be restored even when using the best technology available. If he were a multimillionaire, then perhaps he could have afforded some prosthetics that would replace them, but with no penny to his name?
He would become a cripple, with no hope of even drinking from a cup like a normal person.
"Stay still for a second; I'm going to start treating you."
"It will take a week per limb, but I'm sure you won't regret it when finished."
What is that guy talking about?
His tone alone seemed convincing enough to believe his words.
Enough for Valentine to keep his lips shut and watch him with a wary gaze, waiting for him to start doing whatever he planned to. Still, there was no way one could restore someone's body without as much as tools.
Then.
Clasp!
Sunday clapped his hands above his head, eyes closed.
Huu~
A cloud of smoke escaped his lips, changing the atmosphere of the room in an instant.
The smell of alcohol was gone, replaced by something hotter and thinner.
Wha-what's going on?
Bringing his palms down, he put them on the pile of flesh, digging into it with his thick fingers.
The sound of it made his stomach churn.
Crazy, this guy is crazy.
Valentine thought to himself as he tried to look away from Sunday's antics.
However, the instant he chose not to look.
His eyes stayed on his arm, unable to snap away from it.
Squelch.
Sunday's fingers spread out from within the wet flesh, shaping a small hole that ran through both bone and torn muscle tissue. Without a moment's hesitation, he ripped out a piece of bone, throwing it behind his back without opening his eyes.
Doing the same with fragments of clothing and the heaviest fragments of meat that still held some structure inside them, he was left with something one would call 'minced meat'.
There was nothing left except for a small puddle of blood and a strip of flesh that was still somehow connected to Valentine's shoulder thanks to it staying intact and somewhat undamaged.
As his red fingers swiped across the unwrapped bandages, already dirty and torn from being taken off, something... magical... started to happen around them.
Valentine's eyes widened as he watched his entire body ripple with bright warmth.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
In between Sunday's palms that held onto the end of his arm's remnants.
A flaming spark lit up the whole room, turning it into a box of pure sunlight.
A fire?
The puddle of blood that was left on the thick bandages started to shimmer under the influence of bright light, turning hotter and hotter until bubbling and steaming, a clear sight of boiling.
Without hesitating, Sunday submerged his palms alongside the strip of flesh into the small yet deep puddle, only furrowing his brow faintly before holding onto something and pulling it outside.
The light he created started to flicker different colors: red, yellow, white, and orange. Each of them changing something in the air.
When red flashed, Valentine's searing blood rushed through his body like a stream, feeling lighter and healthier than ever. His face was starting to regain its previous color, ridding it of its corpse-like appearance.
The light flickered, turning into a lighter shade of orange; Sunday's body lit up for a flash, becoming a mirror for the light to reflect from, gathering the warmth and expanding the spark within his palms into a proper flame.
As yellow flashed, the flaming spark became a sphere, rising above their heads like a floating candle and growing golden strings in a circle, taking the appearance of a miniature sun whose rays caressed Valentine's skin.
However, after the three shades became as bright as the very sun, turning as white as snow, the room's atmosphere flipped, turning unimaginably cold, losing all progress it made to become a blaze, and leaving only a floating sphere of light.
Restarting from the first step, the room turned warm under Sunday's influence, making Valentine turn to him with the little strength he had.
While boiling blood poured down on his knees and burned his clothes until only red skin remained, an arm emerged from within the remnants of the blood puddle, almost identical to Valentine's arm before turning mangled.
It was engulfed in a white blaze, tempered like a blade from a master blacksmith. Its skin was shaped under endless blaze, taking the form of a sturdy tool rather than a simple limb.
Sunday, holding the newly formed arm above his head, looked down at the place where he pulled it from.
The blood and flesh were gone, all of it fused into a body part he made for the boy.
The thirteen spheres above his head, which formed during the time he was shaping it, shattered like brittle glass.
Their previous brilliance started turning into a flurry of sparks landing across the bed, shaping themselves from Valentine's shoulder into an ethereal form of his right arm, identical to the one Sunday held engulfed in pure flames.
His eyes finally opened, his gaze as calm and focused as a sunny day.
Parting his lips, words akin to a prayer slipped from his tongue, making the whole arm shimmer even brighter.
It didn't have a sound, nor a tone, nor any feature of speech one could pinpoint.
The sound he made was of flames, and the flames were what gave him an answer.
He closed his eyes yet again, alongside his lips, which opened a second later, letting go of a whisper.
"Thank you."
Crackle!
The limb in his hands was engulfed in flames once more, its fierce heat making Valentine's face sweat for the first time.
He brought down the blessing, inserting it carefully where the ethereal form parted for his hands to go through and insert the arm, extinguishing the flames boiling within.
It looked as if it were a part of him now, with white flames still flickering at the corners of its fresh skin.
The room, which was changing colors, became calm once more, absorbing the heat and bringing it down to room temperature.
"It's done. Phew~"
Hearing a heavy exhale from beside him, Valentine looked down at the arm he saw filled with flames, now connected to his shoulder as if it were always a part of him.
His thumb curled inwards, while the rest was stretched out as far as he could manage.
He slowly stretched out his thumb, repeating the motion with each of his fingers one by one, ending on his pinky before clenching it into a fist as hard as he could and relaxing it.
His face was full of astonishment, but also fear, confusion, uncertainty, and emotions he couldn't express with his face alone.
Sunday looked down at him with a smile, still sweating from the heat, wiping the sweat from his forehead. And rubbing his burnt knees as if they didn't hurt at all.
He was sweating just like him, with his short gray hair sticking to his skull, and the beard giving off a new, more potent smell.
With a voice as gentle as always, he closed his golden eyes for a moment, taking deep and cautious breaths.
"I'm going to get some rest. I'll let you... get used to your new arm."
"I won't ask you for any payment, but I do have one request."
Valentine, without looking at the man's bright face, mumbled to him with his hoarse voice.
"W-what is it, Sunday?"
Unseen by Valentine, the man's lips curled up slightly after hearing him finally talk for the first time, as well as address him by his name, which he hadn't heard coming out of other people's mouths in a while.
"Please, don't get injured after I finish your treatment."
"Alright..."
"Thank you."
He said, with a tone entirely different than during whatever was happening a second ago, and left the room.
Valentine raised his hand above his face.
Inside his mind, he didn't even care about what the hell was going on anymore.
After a while, his fingers started trembling...
That night.
That very night when cold wind could be felt once more across his skin.
He could again eat on his own.