Luca stepped out onto the wide wooden platform that ringed the upper level of the great tree.

The evening breeze carried the scent of fresh leaves and distant flowers as he watched the village below come together in a way he hadn't seen before.

The elves were moving in a beautiful rhythm—carrying their loved ones on their backs, holding them gently in blankets stretched between pairs of arms, whispering words of comfort as they made their way up toward the storage hall that now gleamed like a place of healing.

"Bring them in carefully!" Leona's commanding voice rang from beside him. "Lay them on the beds one by one—make sure their heads are elevated slightly! Don't rush, take your time!"

Her orders were followed immediately and all the elves who were already at the platform started placing the patients in their beds and wrapped them in blankets.

Luca leaned slightly over the railing, his sharp eyes catching sight of those still below.

While most had already reached the top, a few were struggling at the lower levels, carrying those who were too weak to stand.

Among them was a thin elf woman, leaning on her daughter's back. Despite her condition, she let out a soft chuckle as she saw how hard her daughter was breathing.

"It seems I've gained weight." She said with a faint laugh. "I must've eaten too much when I was still well. Now I'm all heavy and making you struggle."

"Not at all, Mother. You're not heavy."

The young elf girl shook her head, her voice trembling but determined.

"I'm just...I'm just too weak right now."

She gritted her teeth and took another step.

"But once you get better, I promise I'll start training—every single day! I won't ever be this weak again!"

The mother smiled warmly, her eyes full of pride and affection despite her fatigue.

"My little warrior." She whispered softly, her voice full of love and a bit of guilt for making her daughter struggle.

But before they could take another step, a large shadow suddenly fell over them.

Thud!

Both mother and daughter froze, glancing up as something landed before them with a thud, shaking the roots of the great tree slightly.

For a split second, they thought a branch had fallen—until the dust cleared, revealing Luca standing there, smiling faintly.

The daughter blinked in disbelief. "M-Mr. Hero?"

"Looks like you're struggling over here."

Luca said in a teasing but kind manner.

"Mind if I lend a hand?"

He extended his arm toward her. But the girl hesitated, unsure if she should accept.

But when she looked up, she saw Luna, Lulu, and the other girls watching from above—all giving her encouraging thumbs-ups and bright smiles.

That was all the courage she needed. She smiled shyly, placed her mother's hand into Luca's, and said softly, "Please...take care of her."

"Of course." He said warmly.

With practiced gentleness, he slipped one arm under the woman's knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly in a princess carry.

The woman gasped in surprise.

"Oh dear." She said with an embarrassed laugh. "I hope I'm not too much of a bother. I was just complaining to my daughter about my weight…"

Luca shook his head, smile warm.

"Not at all. You're as light as a feather."

He glanced down at the daughter, winking.

"In fact...so light I feel like I could fly."

Before anyone could react, he bent his knees slightly—then launched upward.

Whoosh!

A single, explosive leap.

Gasps rose from below and above as Luca rocketed into the air, soaring the full height of the great tree in one impossible bound.

He cleared dozens of meters in a heartbeat, arcing gracefully before landing softly—perfectly—on the upper platform, not jarring his passenger in the slightest.

The mother stared at him, breathless and wide-eyed and Luca just grinned.

"See? Light as a feather."

He gently passed her to waiting hands, who guided her inside to a bed.

The daughter below gaped up in awe, then scrambled up the stairs faster than before, inspired.

One by one, Luca repeated the feat—spotting those who struggled most, dropping down like a guardian shadow, carrying them up in leaps that left the entire village whispering in stunned admiration.

Not just for the raw power—to jump that high from a standstill—but for the kindness behind it.

Soon with his efforts, every bed was filled.

Patients lay in neat rows beneath clean blankets, family members gathered close and Nyx and Leona stood near the center, taking it all in.

Even without spells or rituals, the space already felt like a true place of healing—organized, calm, hopeful.

Leona approached Luca as he returned from helping the last patient settle.

"What now?" She asked quietly. "What's the next step?"

Luca wiped his hands on a cloth, smiling.

"That's it. There's nothing left for any of you to do right now."

He gestured to the rows of IV stands.

"All that's left is inserting the lines. I'll handle that myself."

Under dozens of watchful, curious gazes, Luca moved methodically from bed to bed.

He spoke softly to each patient—asking them to extend an arm, rubbing a cool, numbing ointment over the inner wrist, then smoothly inserting the pre-prepared IV catheter attached to the hanging bags of clear fluid.

His hands were steady, gentle, practiced and for those who flinched at the sight of the needle, he distracted them with silly jokes.

"Why don't skeletons fight each other?" He asked one nervous elder.

The elf blinked.

"…Why?"

"Because they don't have the guts."

A weak chuckle escaped the patient as the line went in painlessly.

Children were told stories of brave princesses.

Mothers were reassured their families were right beside them.

One by one, every patient relaxed back against soft pillows, clear fluid slowly dripping into their veins, loved ones holding their hands.

Finally, when the last IV was set, Luca clapped his hands together lightly and exhaled.

"That should do it." He said with satisfaction.

Leona stared at him, incredulous.

"That's...all?"

She glanced around at the quietly dripping bags.

"You're saying it's over? You don't need to do anything else?"

Luca tilted his head. "Well, yes. Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, not wrong." Leona hesitated. "But...I was expecting something more dramatic. Maybe a spell, a chant—some kind of divine light filling the room."

"Yeah, same!" Lulu raised her hand. "I thought you were gonna summon the goddess or call down angels or something!"

Luca blinked—then laughed softly.

"Sorry to disappoint. I don't really know any magic."

"But what I do know...." He said, placing a hand on one of the IV stands. "...is medicine. You might not see sparks or light."

He tapped the clear fluid gently.

"And this might not look like much—just clear fluid going into arms. But trust me."

"This is exactly what every one of them needs."

Leona, Nyx, Luna, Lulu who had seen Esme's rapid improvement nodded slowly—they believed him completely.

But many of the newer arrivals, the ones who hadn't witnessed the earlier miracles, exchanged uncertain glances.

They had watched Julius—their Grand Healer, their trusted master—try everything for over a month: potions, salves, incantations, herbal compresses, bloodletting, lunar alignments.

Nothing had worked.

And now this human claimed that hanging bags of clear liquid would do what all that couldn't?

It sounded too simple. Too ordinary.

Yet...the Hero had already done impossible things today.

He brought beds through space.

He had made a dying woman speak again.

He had carried their loved ones through the sky.

So they held their doubts quietly.

They chose to trust.

After this, the elves split into different groups.

Some gathered close to their resting loved ones, speaking to them softly, holding their hands, or wiping them down.

Others stood outside near the railings of the platform, murmuring in small circles, sharing quiet laughter or gossiping about the miracle they had just witnessed.

Little elf children ran about freely, giggling as they chased one another up and down the branches and wooden platforms, climbing the tree's hanging vines like monkeys.

A human visitor might have screamed in panic at the sight of small children swinging from branches so high above the ground.

But the elves didn't even flinch.

To them, this was second nature—they had grown up among trees; balance was as natural to them as breathing.

And overall, the entire scene looked less like a hospital and more like a cheerful gathering, full of warmth and hope.

Meanwhile, Luca had gathered about twenty young elf women—mostly daughters, sisters, or nieces of the patients and stood in front of them near the open platform.

"Alright." He said, smiling. "This next part is very important. You'll be looking after your families over the coming weeks, so you need to know what to do if something goes wrong."

He began teaching them basic medical steps, speaking with calm precision and patience. He explained how to monitor the IV flow, when to replace the drip bag, and how to recognize signs of infection or dehydration.

The elves listened intently, wide-eyed and eager, scribbling notes on whatever they could find. Even those without sick relatives joined in, captivated by this new kind of knowledge.

The most hands-on part came when Luca rolled up his sleeve and offered his own forearm to practice putting the catheter in.

"The best way to learn is to do it. We'll practice right here."

But the girls hesitated, horrified.

"On your hand?! We'll hurt you!"

"I think if I do it, the needle will come out from the other end."

Luca just grinned.

"You won't kill me, I promise. Come on—one at a time."

After much coaxing, the first brave volunteer took the needle.

Her hand shook and she missed the vein entirely, jabbing awkwardly into muscle.

A bead of blood welled up.

She yelped in panic.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!"

But Luca didn't flinch.

"Totally fine. Pull it out, apply pressure, try again. You'll get it."

And she did just like he said and to her surprise—she actually managed to push it in successfully.

And just like that, one by one, they took turns.

Some poked too shallow.

Some went too deep.

A few struck the vein perfectly on the first try and beamed with pride.

Lulu, predictably, took the prize for most attempts—she stabbed him ten times, each miss more enthusiastic than the last, until she finally slid the catheter in smoothly and cheered like she'd won a tournament.

Blood dotted his arm. Bruises bloomed. Bandages went on and came off.

But Luca stayed calm and encouraging through every mistake, guiding their hands, explaining what they felt under the skin, making them redo it until confidence replaced fear.

By the end, after easily a hundred practice insertions, every single girl could place an IV cleanly and safely.

They buzzed with excitement, comparing notes, teasing Lulu mercilessly for her 'ten-stab record' and thanking Luca over and over.

And while the young elves chattered and laughed about their new skills, Luca slipped away to the edge of the outer platform.

He leaned against the smooth wooden railing, glancing down at his much-abused forearm.

The punctures and bruises were already fading—his healing closing them one by one.

"Damn, I look like a junkie back home."

He sighed softly before smiling.

"But...at least they learned something."

That was when a teasing voice came from behind him.

"Are you perhaps someone who enjoys pain?"

"You know, the perverts who are called masochists?"

—

Illustration of the mini-hospital is in the comment section...Check it out!

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