UNTOLD

CHAPTER 5: vegetables

The Final Healing

Jonas turned to Alden.

The moment stretched longer than comfort allowed.

Jonas's usual crooked smirk was gone. No flippant remarks. No fidgeting. His eyes were sharp and still, full of something ancient and distant. He wasn't just a man in that moment he was a relic. Something older than language, wearing the skin of a teacher.

He crouched beside Alden in complete silence.

Alden lay on the ground, face pale with pain. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle, and his ribs rose and fell with each breath like cracked glass barely holding together.

"Can't... move," he gritted out. "Feels like my ribs are stabbing me from the inside."

Jonas winced. "Yeah, you're a mess."

Then, with none of his usual dramatic flair, Jonas brought his hands together. Not in prayer. Not as a show.

But with intention.

Fingers intertwined. Steady. Grounded.

No chant. No glow at first. Just breath. Just focus.

Then the silver-blue light came to life between his palms gentler this time, more concentrated. It pulsed like breath in cold air, like memory made visible.

He placed a single hand on Alden's sternum.

Alden flinched.

Then stilled.

Warmth flooded through his chest, slow and patient. It wasn't heat like fire but warmth like blankets on a rainy day. Familiar. Deep. But underneath it, something older stirred. Something vast.

Alden gasped.

He felt it in his bones.

His ribs realigned not painfully, but with precision, like a craftsman repairing an old, sacred instrument. The ache in his chest gave way to ease. The tightness disappeared. His lungs filled fully for the first time in hours.

Then his shoulder.

He watched in stunned silence as the swelling receded. The bruises faded. His broken arm twitched, then slowly pulled back into place. The skin reknit itself before his eyes. The dried blood shimmered then vanished beneath the surface, leaving no trace.

"...W-What the hell..." Alden whispered.

Jonas didn't answer immediately.

When he finally drew his hand back, the glow faded.

Alden sat up, shaky but whole. He pressed his fingers to his ribs, his shoulder, his wrist. No pain. No cracks. Only the faint phantom of agony that had vanished.

"That was... inside me? That damage?"

Jonas stretched with a grunt. "You were this close to looking like overcooked spaghetti."

Alden blinked. "What are you?"

Jonas glanced over his shoulder, deadpan. "Sexy man."

A beat.

"...Seriously?"

Jonas grinned. "Also, y'know... Kalasag. Guardian. Ancient spirit-bouncer. Babysitter to dramatic Maharlika teens."

Alden just stared.

Jonas burst out laughing.

It was loud, unfiltered, echoing through the hallway like something heavy had finally cracked. He doubled over, tears forming at the corner of his eyes.