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The battlefield of broken shields and severed banners, where the cries of the wounded rose like a mournful hymn to the gods. I stood amidst the carnage, my once, proud armor darkened with soot and blood, his breath heavy with exhaustion. I had spent my years chasing glory, sword in hand, laughter in my throat, seeking victory at all costs. But today, amid the suffering, I felt a new calling stir within me. Kneeling beside a fallen warrior, I saw the man?s life fade away like the last embers of a dying fire. I pressed my hands to the wound, desperation flooding my chest. Then, a name whispered through my mind.... Diancecht. The great healer of the gods, the one who restored life where others only took it. I prayed to war deities all my life, but now, for the first time, I begged for mercy instead of destruction. ?Diancecht,? I murmured, ?teach me your ways.? The wind shifted, carrying with it an unearthly warmth. My hands glowed faintly, and beneath them, the dying man shuddered and gasped, life returning where death had loomed. A miracle. A sign. I rose, casting aside my weapons. No more would I seek honorin battle, no more would I revel in the clash of steel. Instead, I would heal. He would mend what war tore apart. I would devote himself to Diancecht, the god of medicine, and become a servant of life rather than death. And so, where I had once stormed into war, I now entered the fray as a healer, anointed by the divine touch of Diancecht, guided not by bloodlust, but by compassion. | |