Healing System-Chapter 272: Revenge

Michael teleported straight into the hospital where his previous boss was lying around.

He seemed like he was dying, which was a good thing for Michael.

After all, depending on his mood, he could either prolong his suffering or end it completely.

Having a lot of power does come with its perks most of the time, and this was definitely that time.

But since he decided to at least use a sliver of discretion, Michael changed his clothes into that of a doctor and stealthily made his way throughout the hospital.

It was pretty quiet—likely a private hospital where the richest of the rich gathered.

His boss was in such a tax bracket, as he bragged about the amount of money he had on multiple occasions.

There was even an instance where he had accidentally wired Michael tens of millions since he put an extra zero at the end.

I definitely reminded him of it, Michael hummed. Though it’s too bad. We got along pretty well at the start.

With those thoughts, he approached the room where his boss was staying, and with a subtle knock, Michael entered.

"Did I call for you?" A wilted voice rang out. "Didn’t think so. Get out."

"Sir Keralt... But it’s important," Michael said, acting scared.

"Important? More important than my sleep?" The boss, Keralt, exclaimed, finding it hard to believe. "If it was so important, I would have expected you to run in on your knees, screaming my name, mutt."

How repulsive, Michael grumbled.

The old man was still the same as before, it seemed.

But that only eased his worries further.

For all he knew, during the time Michael was gone, the old man had reformed and adopted some children.

If that were to have happened, Michael would have hesitated to kill him.

"Sir Keralt, I implore you to reconsider your actions, please!" Michael spoke, changing his voice, albeit very slightly.

Keralt tilted his head with a frown on his face. "What is your name again?"

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"Michael, sir," Michael replied, his voice now matching his previous self’s voice.

But that seemed to go over Keralt’s head.

How could it not? It wasn’t like he would suddenly remember him when even Michael’s father couldn’t.

"Really? You seem new here, so I’ll explain it to you straight—"

"Nah, you can keep it to yourself, old man. I don’t give much of a shit," Michael snapped out of character, startling Keralt. "On the other hand, I wish to have a word with you."

"...If you do so much as touch a hair on my body, my guards will kill you and your parents within the hour," Keralt warned.

"I don’t appreciate such warnings, Keralt." Michael narrowed his eyes before suddenly flicking his fingers.

Immediately, Keralt fell back into his hospital bed, unable to move anything but his mouth.

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"W-What did you do to me!?" Keralt exclaimed in panic.

Now, Michael was finally able to watch the person who made him suffer so much squirm helplessly.

It was exactly how he felt back then—knocked out, his vocal cords cut off.

Thrown to the streets.

Yeah. That’s what’s missing. An ominous thought appeared inside Michael’s mind as he suddenly grabbed Keralt by the collar.

The moment he did, Michael teleported them to the airport—the same one that caused him to fail the mercenary assignment in the first place.

"Remember this place? One of the missions you assigned to your soldiers was set here. An Arab prince died—does that ring a bell?" Michael asked, dangling Keralt high above the ground.

"Fuck off! I don’t know anything!" Keralt yelled.

Then, Michael decided to play around with him a little.

Letting go of Keralt’s collar, he soon began free-falling.

Yet just as he was about to hit the ground, Michael caught him and brought him back into the sky—just this time, much higher.

"Ring any bells?"

"Fuck off—"

Keralt’s words were interrupted as Michael made him fall again. And again. And again...

Until eventually, Keralt had no more will to even breathe, let alone speak.

But that wasn’t an excuse, as Michael merely infused his mana inside Keralt, rejuvenating him back to full health.

Even a little more, as his body became visibly younger.

"I’ll tell you if you stop this!" Keralt exclaimed, trying to salvage what little sanity he had left.

Michael decided to ease up a little and placed a platform of light right under the two of them before placing Keralt down.

"Speak," Michael said sternly.

"There was a job, and the only thing I had to do was send out a single soldier to protect a mere Arab prince," Keralt stated with a pause before continuing. "Now, I had a soldier... I can’t remember his name, but he wielded a sniper rifle pretty well. So I tasked him with the job and sent him to protect the Arab prince."

Everything adds up so far, Michael nodded inside his mind as he continued to listen.

"Now, I also got a counteroffer—one which was simply too good to pass up," Keralt said, making Michael raise a brow.

"Go on..."

"...Right. The Arab prince’s consort offered us 25 million dollars to protect him, and the counteroffer was ten times that amount. And all they wanted us to do was simply kill the Arab prince. Naturally, I took the offer. I then proceeded to instruct one of my men to infiltrate the inner guards, and of course, I had to disrupt the sniper’s perception. Therefore, I slipped a few drugs inside his coffee to make him relaxed."

"Hmm..." Michael closed his eyes, trying to recall the moment everything unfolded.

And the moment he did, he was able to confirm that the tiredness Keralt was talking about actually existed.

If anything, he remembered nearly falling asleep right as he was about to take the shot.

Coupled with that fact, he felt overly remorseful for the person he was supposed to kill in order to protect the prince.

Finally, the pieces fell into place as Michael reopened his eyes, clarity entering them.

Yet as it did, he did what he had wanted to do for a long time.

"Farewell, Keralt," Michael said, watching as the color drained from Keralt’s face.

And all of a sudden, Michael let go of him, letting him fall to the ground.

But since Michael didn’t want to hear his screams, he sped up the process, making Keralt splatter on the ground within moments.

Finally, Michael let out a relieved sigh.

It had taken a lot out of him—even when he came back and was given another chance at life, he never expected to get his get-back at such a person after so long.

But god damn, did it feel satisfying. Michael chuckled.

His pent-up anger as well as stress disappeared in an instant, the side effects of having such a burden lifted off his shoulders.

But it seemed like he was done for now, with the only thing left to do being to talk to his parents and move on to the next world.

Or more like, first back to his day job of making bodies for the eldritch beings, and then after that, he would head to Astraea’s world.

There had to be some sort of reason why Amanda and Fafnir escaped in the first place.

Furthermore, he really wanted to try restoring their memories, even if just a little bit.

Therefore, Michael focused on the restaurant where he left his parents, and just as he was about to teleport, he froze.

God damn bastards, why are they fucking? Michael grumbled, his eyes tainted by the sight.

Instead of that, he decided to return to the hospital and pick Hermes up, as after all, leaving such a being roaming around here would not be the best of ideas.

At the same time, Hermes was a good taxi—fast, efficient, and trustworthy.

Hopefully. Michael added in his mind and proceeded to pick up the still-sleeping Hermes before glancing to the side.

He felt some kind of presence watching him.

It was faint, but of course, Michael was able to track it to a particular area.

Surprisingly, it was someone from this very Earth, and they were staring at him all the way from Antarctica.

Am I being stalked by a penguin? No way. Michael dismissed that thought, as cool as that would be.

Nonetheless, he wouldn’t let this presence go unnoticed.

In the very next moment, Michael appeared in front of it.

And as he did, his eyes immediately widened.

It was a person he was not expecting to see—not here, anyway.

Beautiful flowing golden hair and familiar green crystal-like eyes.

"Freya?" he called out.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Michael. Or whoever you are now," she replied warily.

"I’m still the same person you met all that time ago—just a tad bit stronger," Michael said with a shrug. "I learned the language you taught me."

"It’s great to hear that, Michael... However, I’m not here for you." Her gaze traveled toward the angel on his shoulder.

"Hermes? I understand you might have some uses for him, but so do I," Michael stated. "He’s a portable taxi—I mean, a friend I’ve made along the way who just so happens to be very fast and convenient..." he sighed. "Why do you need him?"

"His father is worried about him, and I was assigned babysitting duty since I finished all my tasks for the next century," Freya replied before narrowing her eyes. "Are you going to fight me for him?"

"Nope." Michael tilted his head, walking closer as a mischievous expression appeared on his face.

"Take me to Hermes’s father."