He was the only mortal ever to touch the Tenth Circle. He died on a battlefield while four kings argued over his notebooks. He didn't want a second chance. He wanted a nap.

Mathis Verrell sealed nine abyssal rifts and burned two empires to the ground because the alternative was worse. When he finally bled out on a dead wheat plain, the System didn't close his file. It marked him inactive, noted an outstanding balance, and reassigned him.

He wakes up as Wick Tarrow, seventeen, frail, low-born, and one morning away from his Class Awakening. He asks the System for something small. Something with no ladder. Something nobody wants.

The System grants it exactly: [Healer, Unranked]. No combat scaling. No certification path. A mana pool the size of a teacup. A lifetime of poulticing scraped knees for copper.

It is, as far as Wick is concerned, perfect.

There's one problem. The System calculates healing from a practitioner's comprehension of the body, not their raw power. And Wick spent a hundred and one years learning what a living thing actually is. His minor mends leave no scar. His starter profession, [Steeper], turns out to be transmutation by patience. And his first patient walks out of a firewood room on a bridge with an eleven-year-old ache that has simply stopped.

By the end of the week there's a queue.

Because the valley's water is going quietly wrong, and Wick can cure any single case of it in ninety seconds, and there are four hundred and eleven people, and he can do six a day. There is a licensing body that can close his door. There is a baronet whose grandfather sold the spring. And there is a village that voted, forty years ago, not to look at where the money came from.

The man who knows exactly how to put a body back together is about to find out how little that helps.

A cozy LitRPG about competence, community, and a cracked kettle. Genuinely overpowered protagonist, no artificial nerfs, no humiliation arcs. Warm, dry, and low-stakes, with a craft system that gets more page time than the combat. Perfect for readers who want the numbers to mean something and nobody to get hurt.

Book one of The Ninebridge Clinic.