I was a healer by trade. I had spent countless months learning what a human body was supposed to look like. Months identifying the common conditions you experienced in battle, what they looked like, and how to fix them. Years practicing on dummies and, later, on real people.

And it barely bought me any respect.

"Oh, you should go where you're best at..." they said. "There's no shame in being a healer, it's important," they said. And, yet, I was looked down upon by the entire party, because I wasn't dealing damage. I should have gone into combat; my abilities could have marginally less use there, but they definitely would have bought me far more glory.

I barely had time to reflect on that before we were ambushed.

It was ten on ten, the regiments having the exact same size. Three knights (mainly for defense), three strikers (mainly for offense), three specialists of various kinds, and a single healer. Despite the standard makeup of regiments being the same, every team was different in some way.

Firey bolts arced through the sky, aiming themselves directly towards our knights, who braced themselves for the impact. They were met with steel shields, which heated up absorbing the attack, but remained intact, more or less.

Next was our team's return fire. A round of ice and rock, from various different angles. Their teams struggled to meet it, mostly opting to dodge instead. That was a sign of cowardice, and we smelled blood.

I advanced forward, staying towards the tail end of the group, but allowing myself to get cover as the battle slowly devolved from structured exchange of fire into all-out chaos. Arrows, water and ice (mainly for neutralization purposes), rocks, and, of course, fire were hit left and right. But that wasn't my role. They handled the attack and defense. I was supposed to keep everyone else fighting.

And somebody was hit. Our best attacker took an arrow to his right arm. I was right on it.

I extended an invisible tentacle about thirty feet. Well, that was the best metaphor I had found for what I was doing - peering into his body. And there it was. The easiest thing to manipulate was blood - well, saliva and urine were easier, but those weren't relevant to healing. And, luckily, the most common wounds were blood-related.

Sadly, the arrow had punctured a major artery. If this had been conventional healing, the arrow would have to be left in. But this wasn't conventional healing.

Bleeding was only unwanted blood flow, and this could be stopped. I pushed the blood through the artery, acting as walls reinforcing the tube. This would keep everything running smoothly and prevent further blood loss. Removing the arrow was trivial. Just a little bit of extra pressure, and it just popped right back out.

Finally, it was time to seal the blood vessel. This was the easiest part - although it was also the most time-consuming. All I needed to do was thicken the blood around the wounds - and this was accomplished by drawing the water towards the center. I was protected well enough to do this, but the way they approached it made it obvious where their priorities were. My value wasn't as a person, but as their healer. An asset to be guarded, not a person to be defended.

About a minute later, and the wound was healed up enough. I was confident that the body itself would do the rest of the work, so I was able to move on.

And, just as one wound had been sealed up, two more took their place.

A burn on the shoulder, and a broken leg from a chunk of rock.

I didn't prioritize the burn; the broken leg was far worse. Simple punctures were one thing, but a broken bone was far more difficult to mend. I first had to set the bone, which would allow it to heal.

The muscles worked electrically by expanding and contracting. Little electric pumps. Although blood was closer and easier, these weren't quite outside my domain. By expanding one and contracting another, I straightened the leg. I'd have to make sure that it didn't get moved, whether that movement was by an enemy or by my teammate's own rash decision. Of course, even though nothing was actually being done, watching it required quite a bit of my attention.

Healing the broken bone wasn't something I was able to directly do. All I could do was direct and aid the body's natural processes. I directed resources to the bone, blood and nutrients, to ensure a speedy recovery.

Then, there was the hardest part: The splint. I certainly couldn't do it in the combat zone, so I had to get him over to me. And, so, with ample warning, I applied a force to all of him that I had power over, dragging his form over to me. It was just the same as usual - although he was a bit on the heavier side, so it took a lot out of me.

After applying a splint to ensure that his leg wouldn't be moved for good, I was able to move on. We were down to four uninjured team members, one of each class. This, of course, included myself, so they only counted three. I didn't blame them - nobody counted the healer. What exactly could I do if they were knocked out of commission? It was infuriating, to be helpless in a situation like that. Yet, through my background, I had only myself to blame for being in that corner.

Slinging more fire and ice, my teammates fought in a tighter and tighter circle as fewer and fewer of them became fit to fight. No deaths had happened yet, but I certainly had my hands full. Someone was bleeding out in five places, and it took all of my attention to hold it back while they were forced to resort to bandages - which weren't ever supposed to be used. That's how far we were down.

And, soon, I was the only one in fighting condition. Well, if I had ever been in fighting condition to begin with.

Luckily, they had all been stabilized. So, I turned my attention to the other team. The six who remained, who were about to assault me.

All I had was an impromptu pair of walls that my team's specialists had put up. They'd take punishment before they got to me, and we were all dead. But, then, it occurred to me: Bleeding was just the wrong kind of blood flow. And stopping bleeding was trivial. So, what if I stopped the right kind of bleeding?

I stuck a tendril into one at the front. I could see him just the same as my own team members. It was all there, ready for me to latch on and "heal". And I went right for the heart.

The blood got its own oxygen supply from two tiny vessels. Stopping their flow was almost trivial. All I had to do was keep it going for a few minutes, and their heart would peter out and die.

But I didn't have a few minutes, did I?

He fell down, clutching his heart. These were results, trivially produced results. Results that had bought me some time, as the rest of the enemies stared in disbelief. They didn't think to connect it to me as their own healer's vision rushed in, confused. But, despite his heart attack, he would be okay.

The archer aimed his bow at me, ready to shoot. But that wouldn't do. Just like with my fallen ally, I set his "broken arm" in place, preventing him from "accidentally" moving it, and causing great harm. Then, compared to what I had just done earlier, rotating him 180 degrees was trivial. Their healer, not mine, was the one taken out with his arrows. I saw to it that a major artery was pierced; who was I to stop her from moving right into the arrow's path?

Now that there was damage to be healed, I recalled the one sentence that the healing professor had emphasized the most: There is nothing that causes more damage than a poorly done healing. So, now, it was time to make a grievous mistake. I used the healer's own blood to push the arrow out of her body, leaving a huge open wound.

Without me stopping the flow, the worst case scenario happened: blood started pouring out of her at an alarming rate. The blood loss, combined with the pain and the critical arm injury ensured that she wouldn't be able to control it. After all, the hardest person to heal is always yourself.