Heaven's Greatest Professor

"Are you crying?" the janitor-cum-chef asked.

"I'm not," May said, putting her effort into swallowing the hot soup; her eyes were almost on the verge of tearing up.

The soup wasn't chilly or anything; it had simply been quite some time since she had eaten edible food. Hell, she had been fighting on an empty stomach, and the terrible ambience of the subspace hadn't been any kinder to her.

May's affinity toward life attributes was higher than most healers', which made her more intimate with life itself. However, since she entered this subspace, the same ability that made her one of the best healers there was made her a worse candidate for this place.

Death and darkness sang the song of decay; even the stillness of the air prickled on her skin, dulling her affinity and intimacy toward life. She had vomited multiple times the first couple of days she was here in the subspace. Thankfully, it didn't go worse than that. While her healing and energy regeneration did suffer, May found ways to seal most of her supernatural senses to progress further.

Meeting with the others only eased her situation. However, May hadn't found any peace, as all the stuff she ate had the reek of death and decay in it.

But that wasn't the case with whatever she was eating now. May had no clue how the mysterious janitor guy cooked or what kind of secret he mixed in, but even after staring at his cooking for half an hour, May hadn't managed to glimpse anything out of the ordinary in it.

In the end, she simply asked, and the reply was another cringeworthy line. The janitor said that he merely poured his heart into it.

Hmph, as if no one else poured their heart into it, she snorted.

"Do you want some more?" the guy asked.

May simply push her bowl forward. A moment later, the janitor handed her back the bowl, now full of soup. She was about to take a sip when a voice resounded.

"Incoming..." said Tom. He was on the lookout when they were resting.

The janitor stood up, his broom ready in his hand. May turned her head to find it wasn't another group of demonic creatures, much to her relief.

It was a group of humans instead, led by a young man she actually knew. By knew, she meant she was aware of his station and the family he represented. Tayl Alebson had a heroic figure similar to Marcus's, though far prouder, with jet-black hair and dark eyes. He stood tall, a similar long spear as tall as him strapped on his back, as his underlings and the regular soldiers all stood in line.

Tayl Alebson's eyes darted and examined their camp until he finally found her figure, and his eyes lit up. May didn't have a good feeling about this.

"You, half-elf," the noble son and inheritor of House Alebson said, pointing at her. "I recognize you. You were with Valerius."

"And?" May said, standing up to meet Tayl's eyes, the bowl still in her hand.

Tayl probably would have liked more respect and reverence from her, but this was the best May managed. She didn't even like the person, but it wasn't in her nature to be outright hostile.

"We have a couple of wounded people with us," the young lord Tayl ordered. "Treat them."

Four people emerged from behind the group, carrying two people on a stretcher. Both were unconscious, bloodied, and battered, barely clinging to life. One was even missing an arm, the only reason he was still alive being the superior constitution of an Iron ranker.

The uniform he wore indicated he was a superior officer, holding the rank of a sergeant, compared to the other man's Two-star Soldier rank.

A frown crept into her brows as May recognized the armless sergeant. If she wasn't mistaken, his name was Barn, the young soldier whom Lady Cassandra had roped into her team. It was Barn who had introduced them to the small competition held by the Master Runesmith.

Immediately, May handed the bowl of soup back to the janitor, who in turn caught Cole and handed it to him. The Janitor joined her as she approached the wounded men.

May cast a disinfection spell first on both of the wounded before inspecting the wounds of the one-armed Barn.

"Do you have the lost arm with you?" she asked, lifting her head toward Tayl Alebson. She could not regrow an arm with her current capabilities, but considering the wounds were recent and hadn't closed yet, she could attach the arm back.

"We found them running in this condition," a man behind Tayl answered for his lord. "He was carrying no arm."

May clicked her tongue. "Looks like he will have to spend a lot of wealth to get his arm back," she muttered and helped close the wound of the severed arm. It would probably take him a couple of years of his earnings to hire a gold rank healer to make a new arm for him.

Under her life energy, new skin grew over the elbow, making it impossible to attach the lost severed arm anymore. Well, all hope was not lost as long as he still lived...

The other man's condition wasn't as dire; he was unconscious from blood loss and drawing too much energy from his core. The healing potions they had fed him before taking him here had done most of the work; May just made sure to close the wounds where the healing from the potion did not reach.

One would be surprised how incapable a healing potion was when the person was unable to direct its potency to the wounds.

May had already lost two-thirds of her reserves of life energy when she finished with them. Unfortunately, her job wasn't done yet, as a handful of people under Tayl Alebson presented themselves for her to heal.

"We'll pay you fairly for your service," the young lord said.

"I don't need your payment!" May glared at him, which made the guy frown. Then he shook his head as if it was beneath him to argue with someone like her.

May gritted her teeth and healed everyone, one by one. The janitor actually helped. His light attribute possessed natural healing power, which aided a couple of guys, though he was terribly slow. By the time he dealt with the two, May was done with everyone else.

Now, she barely had a trickle of life attribute left, and it would be a pain in the ass for her to regain it, as the place she was in did not inspire any confidence in raising her life attribute.

She turned to find Cole, standing silently with a hot bowl of soup in his hand. Well, it had probably grown cold by now. Sighing, she got back to what she was doing before.

She sat down and drank the soup. The group did not disappear by the time she finished, however. They seemed to find the spot of their camp rather lovely, as they too began to rest their tired butts. A couple of tents already stood across from her.

May remained silent throughout. It wasn't like arguing with them would do any good, nor could they fight with them. Besides, it was simply a spot. In case the new group created a ruckus and called more of those centipedes, all they could do was withdraw and choose another spot.

"It looks like those two fell into the hands of the forsaken," the Janitor said as he came to sit next to her. He had been conversing with Young Lord Tayl's minions to know their story. "The others could not tell me the whole picture... we can only wait for one of the two to wake up to explain. However, from what I've heard, it doesn't sound all that good to me."

Unlike the natural amusement the Janitor usually carried himself with, his face now carried a scowl as he seriously considered things. The Janitor was ordinary-looking, but the serious look made him a little more captivating.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The forsaken, there are hundreds if not thousands of them," he said, not looking at her face.

"You learned that from them?"

The Janitor shook his head. "The forsaken had entered the space before us and already took control of the gate to the second layer. They aren't letting the humans enter. Worse, I think the orders are to kill on sight."

May felt a chill in her blood. She made a quick calculation in her mind. Two hundred and fifty-six candidates had entered the Subspace, but if there were even a thousand forsaken, they were outnumbered four to one. Terrible odds.

"From what I interpret from their conversation and asking stupid questions, it appeared Lord Tayl is preparing to attack the forsaken," the Janitor said.

"With these few men?" May frowned. They were only about a couple dozen people; even if all of them were elites, they wouldn't stand a chance against the forsaken if they really were up against hundreds of them.

"His advisers are against this attack," he continued. "Even the soldiers and his crew are unwilling to fight against such terrible odds..."

"But?" May could imagine what he was going to say.

The Janitor did not disappoint. "But none could shake the young lord's mind. He probably would try to rope us all into his foolish attack as well."

May felt a headache growing. "We need to find Marcus. As soon as possible."