Did you ever wish you could be reborn in another world? I never did. But I always imagined that if it ever happened, my life would be extraordinary.

  Guess what? I was reborn in another world. You’d think anyone would be thrilled—stats, powers, and all that fantasy bullshit. But for me? It wasn’t a blessing.

  Why? Because I was unlucky. And by unlucky, I mean I was special. Too special—special enough that everyone eventually knew me, not by my name, but by what I could do. By my title.

  I’m Vernisha Holinestone, the Monster Healer.

  I have other names, of course, but I’ve come to love that one the most.

  This is the story of my life.

  It was market day—the last day of the week, Yupochalsp. Stalls and tables crowded every corner of Elros's market square, bustling with people eager to sell and trade.

  My “father,” Caren, stretched his back with a groan. “It’s getting dark.”

  “Right… let’s start packing up.”

  “Yup,” he replied, still stretching and letting out another pained groan.

  “You should have Marvin check your back—it’s getting worse,” I said as I helped him load the leftover produce into two massive bags so we could fold up the plastic table.

  Last year, he got into a fight with a neighbor, Bahmos, over a disgusting comment the man made about Natasha—Caren’s wife and this body’s biological mother. That scuffle left Caren with a back injury.

  I was disappointed. I’d expected him to beat the guy up, or at least use that fat man's strength to teach him a lesson. Instead, he got his ass absolutely whooped.

  “When he gets a better reputation, I’ll think about it,” Caren muttered.

  Hmm.

  He had a point. Marvin’s reputation was practically in the gutter. He was a frail, toothless old physician who gambled away his wife’s money—and worse, he used to be abusive. It took getting stabbed by his wife’s brother for him to finally stop hitting her. Before that, nearly every weekend, the entire neighborhood could hear the shouting from their house.

  Once we finished packing, Caren hefted the two heavy bags of unsold goods while I carried the folded table.

  We left our small town—just four hundred and fifty houses in total—and began the long walk home.

  I had barely taken a few steps before I started dreading the nearly hour-long journey.

  The star Silo was setting, casting long shadows, and the air carried that dry, dusty scent that always follows a long day in town.

  Caren shifted the bags on his shoulders with a grunt. “Feels like there are more of them every time.”

  I glanced at him. “More of who?”

  He nodded toward the road ahead, where a group of adventurers—vlandos—was making their way toward Elros. They were humans with access to the System, towering at 6’8 and absurdly beautiful.

  I was a vlandos too, but I wasn’t yet any of those things. After all, I was only twelve.

  “Vlandos,” Caren muttered. “Why are there so many of them lately?”

  I shrugged. “They’re adventurers. Maybe the guild has been sending them out more.”

  Caren scoffed. “For what reason? We’re far from the capital.”

  “Who knows? Maybe something’s going on…”

  A green-skinned man with braided hair passed us—a Punchio. I recognized him. I raised a hand and said, “Hey.”

  He gave me a small nod, barely acknowledging me, before continuing down the road.

  The last time I saw him, he was with Jim—a human—and a Julioes woman. She had pink, gum-like skin and a cascade of fluffy white hair.

  Caren’s head snapped toward me. “Don’t look at those people.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  His jaw tightened. “Because vlandos are evil.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he said firmly.

  I huffed. “That’s stupid. He didn’t even—”

  “Enough, Vernisha.”

  “No. I talk to a bunch of them whenever we’re at the Elros market selling stuff. Why would I stop now?”

  “Vernisha, what’s your deal? Why don’t you get that you should stay the hell away from them?” His voice trembled with barely contained anger.

  “I don’t see why I should. I’ve met nice vlandos—the ones I talk to aren’t bad.”

  “This bullshit again,” he muttered as he stopped to adjust his bags. “Are you human or not?”

  “What kind of stupid-ass question is that?”

  “Language. Answer the question.”

  It irritated me that I even had to lie—as if I were supposed to be ashamed of what I was.

  “Human, obviously.”

  “Exactly. We’re humans. We don’t interact with vlandos. We have nothing to do with them.”

  “But—”

  Caren grunted and reached for his back, no doubt feeling the pain flare up again. “Forget all that propaganda your mother tells you about vlandos,” he said.

  “Those notebooks I have? A vlandos gave them to me.”

  His face stiffened. “What…?”

  “Miss Apala said I’m smart and should go to school, so she gave me those books.”

  “And you kept that a secret from me…”

  “I didn’t want you to burn them,” I replied, folding my arms. “Anyway, the point is—they’re not all bad. Besides, what if one of your children became a vlandos? You’d just drive them away.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “I don’t want to think about that.”

  “But what if… Ulah did awaken the System?”

  His glare unsettled me. “I’d hope it’s a bluff. That’s my only son. I wouldn’t want him to be… that.”

  “But you could just raise him to be good.”

  “A good vlandos is one who stays the hell away from society—or better yet, is dead.”

  “You’re being absurd.”

  He sighed. “Vernisha, this world is filled with people who look like you, think like you, and talk like you—but secretly wish for your extinction. In the blink of an eye, they could punch a hole through your head. You could be chatting with someone, falling in love, and maybe—just maybe—you hurt their feelings a little. And the next day, against your own will, you could ‘willingly’ pick up a knife and slit your own throat.”

  I’d heard stories like that before. Too many stories.

  His expression darkened, exhaustion heavy in his eyes. Maybe he was thinking, What if my child became a vlandos?

  “I had a brother who was a vlandos,” he said suddenly. “Bet you didn’t know that.”

  “Did your parents kill him?” I asked, my voice flat and emotionless.

  “No. They couldn’t bring themselves to kill their own child, so the village did it for them. It was a hard choice, but necessary to protect everyone.”

  …

  “Don’t you think that’s insane?”

  “It is. But sometimes you have to make ‘insane’ decisions.”

  I didn’t respond. What was there to say?

  Nothing.

  If he found out about me…

  I glanced at my bandaged palm, my thoughts swirling.

  He must have noticed my cold expression because he tried to lighten the mood. “What do you want for dinner?”

  I frowned. “We can afford dinner? Damn, we must be rich.”

  “Well… your mother caught a lot of fish last night…”

  “Didn’t she sell all of them? She and Palia were talking about taking them to Portrum.”

  Portrum was east of here, far from any water. Fish sold for a lot there.

  “She must’ve saved a couple.”

  I thought about it, then shook my head. “I doubt it.”

  “Maybe we can go out and catch some.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “That’s… fair.”

  And so, we walked on.

  No matter how hard I tried to brush off his words, they lingered. What made it worse was that his friends had said even harsher things.

  Night fell, but we were used to traveling in the dark. Still, we had to stop multiple times because of Caren’s back pain.

  He sat down, taking deep breaths, while I wandered off.

  “Don’t go too far,” he muttered.

  “Yup, yup,” I replied, proceeding to do exactly that.

  Atop a small hill stood a Balash temple. Natasha always told me never to enter one, but I’d always been curious.

  Besides, I’d heard they gave food to kids and the poor.

  And I wanted food.

  The leftovers in our bags were little more than fruit. In other words, they wouldn’t do shit for my hunger.

  I reached for my sheath, pulled out my dagger, and gripped the handle between my teeth.

  [+4% Strength]

  Heh. I got this from an adventurer by begging like crazy. The same Punchio I saw earlier.

  Though, I think he only gave it to me because he was annoyed and wanted me to stop crying. What kind of adult gives a kid a dagger, anyway?

  Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, I crouched, then leapt, grabbing onto the stones jutting out of the hill.

  I climbed fast, hopping from stone to stone like an amateur rock climber.

  By the time I reached the top, I was out of breath.

  Damn, that was exhausting…

  I wiped the sweat from my face and watched as a group of people in long white robes entered the massive golden temple. I waited until everyone was inside before making my move.

  I sneaked up and pressed my back against the wall, keeping a safe distance from the nearest glass window.

  “Little boy, do you know why Balash is important to us?”

  I tuned them out. I didn’t care.

  When was someone going to knock and ask for food so I could slip in and join them?

  If Caren weren’t so anti-vlandos, we’d be stuffing our stomachs right now. And Natasha never liked the temple or Balash, so she never brought me here.

  I kept listening, waiting for food to be handed out, but it never happened. Instead, I heard Caren shouting my name.

  He didn’t sound worried. I used to run away a lot—ignoring his frantic calls when I was drowning in frustration, forced to live as a peasant in another world.

  No shade to my fellow peasants, but I only tolerated mediocrity because I had no choice.

  Digging holes just to take a shit? One meal a day?! That had been hell to adapt to. And if my period ever started… ugh. If the cramps were anything like what I had back on Earth—

  Nope. Not thinking about that.

  Actually, now that I thought about it, it was a damn good thing only the wealthy could afford guns. Because if I’d had one at age three? My brains would’ve been decorating a wall.

  Movement caught my eye—a temple worker setting down a basket of hot bread rolls on a table.

  Natasha told me not to enter the temple, but she never said I couldn’t take food from them. Besides, wasn’t I a vlandos too? If they saw vlandos as a blessing from Balash, shouldn’t they treat me—

  Never mind. Dumb idea.

  Sorry, Natasha. Forgive me, but I’m starving, and there’s barely any food at home.

  I stood and tiptoed toward the entrance, pressing myself against the wall like a thief in the dead of night.

  The warm scent of freshly baked bread filled the air…

  Saliva pooled in my mouth as I imagined sinking my teeth into the soft crust. I just needed… three. One for today, one for tomorrow, and—

  Damn. I’d need to give Ulah and Natasha one. Maybe Caren too? But he’d been pissing me off, so I wasn’t sure.

  Okay, decision made—I was going to steal a ton of them.

  But what about the other hungry people?

  Damn it.

  I shoved the thought away and bolted for the table. As soon as I reached it, I grabbed as many rolls as I could, stuffing them into my shirt. Five. That was my max. Then I turned and ran at full speed.

  Sweet—I wasn’t spotted!

  I was halfway back when my foot caught on something, and I slammed headfirst into a rock.

  Pain exploded through my skull, but I scrambled up, frantically checking my shirt.

  The bread rolls were still there. Thank Balash or whatever.

  Reaching the edge of the cliff where I had climbed up, I hesitated. Climbing down with only three limbs was going to be a nightmare.

  I glanced around—no onlookers. Good. I activated my healing power.

  A red glow flared over my hand. The healing energy flickered—on and off, slipping through my grasp. I wanted to master it, but I never had the time.

  That would change.

  In the days to come, after the disaster that was about to unfold, I wouldn’t just have time—I’d have a reason to grow stronger.

  I pressed my palm to my forehead. It took a couple of minutes for the pain to vanish. Good as new.

  Then I started my descent, nearly slipping six times.

  When I got back, Caren complained, but I shoved a bread roll in his face and told him I sold my dagger to a merchant to buy it. That shut him up.

  As we entered the village, we exchanged good nights with a few villagers before reaching home—our small, weak, shaky excuse for a house. One strong sneeze, and it’d be in pieces.

  I was still praying for a good harvest so we could stop being so disgustingly poor.

  Or for all the other farmers in our territory to die—since they basically forced us to lower our prices to compete.

  Not gonna lie, I had tried sabotaging a few farmers' carriages to cut down the competition. Don’t worry—I only targeted the rich ones.

  Why would rich farmers even live in a dirt-poor village?

  Uh…

  Stop being classist. Anyway.

  I stopped when I learned that one of their fathers used to traffic little kids to the Holvious Queendom.

  After that, I spent weeks suffering anxiety attacks, wondering if I was next. It never happened.

  If I had access to real alcohol—red cap, vodka, anything resembling what I had back on Earth—I would have celebrated my luck by getting ridiculously drunk. Yes, I used to enjoy torturing my taste buds with liquor that tasted like dog shit, and setting my chest on fire.

  Caren opened the door, and inside the dim flicker of a candle mingled with the sound of Ulah scratching my pencil against one of my notebooks. I forced myself to stay calm. It was just a notebook—just lined white paper—oh, wait, those cost a fortune in this world!

  I exhaled through my nose. “Where’s Mom?”

  Caren rubbed his chin. “She left you here by yourself…?”

  “Nah, Mom fell asleep over there,” I replied, as he pointed to Natasha, sprawled on the floor. She must have been exhausted; she hadn’t even changed out of her stained blue shirt, its sleeves torn from the tails of razor fish.

  Ulah’s eyes locked onto the bread rolls peeking out from my shirt. I tossed one to him, and he caught it with his oil-burned hand.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  I walked over and peered at what he had been scribbling—another song.

  “Planning to get rich with that one?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and buy us a huge house,” he replied.

  “Wow!” I faked enthusiasm. “How big?”

  He stretched his arms as wide as he could. “Bigger than… the sea!”

  “Damn. That’s pretty big.”

  “Yeah!”

  Smirking, I moved past him and placed a bread roll in Natasha’s sleeping hand, leaving me with two.

  Biting into one, I headed toward my so-called room—a tiny, cramped space with no bed, just blankets on the ground. I flopped onto my blanket and stretched out my limbs.

  As I chewed, I thought about the temple. I did as Natasha asked—I never stepped inside. Hopefully, standing near the entrance didn’t count. It shouldn’t have.

  I took another bite. The bread was warm and chewy, but its texture was off—almost like meat. Yet it didn’t taste like meat, nor like bread. Just… bland.

  After a while, my eyelids grew heavy. I fought to stay awake, but it was no use. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my grip on the bread roll loosened. It tumbled onto the blanket, rolled to a stop… then, slowly, it rolled back toward my hand.

  I didn’t notice. I didn’t see the way it squirmed, its shape shifting and writhing like a mass of maggots moving in unison. But I wish I had seen it. God, I wish I had.