Equip Trait
Deals Arts damage; When skill is active, attacks instead restore the HP of allies (heal amount is equal to 100% of ATK)
Equip Attribute Bonuses
| Stat | Value |
|---|---|
| atk | 50 |
| def | 25 |
Talent Information
Info
Grants a 26% Shelter effect to all friendly units within range with less than 60% HP
Unlock Information
| Materials |
|---|
x2
x8
x5
x60000
|
| Missions |
|---|
| During battle, have Nine-Colored Deer use Return to the Immortal Mountain a total of 8 times (excluding Support Units) |
| Clear Side Story IW-3 with a 3-star rating; You must deploy your own Nine-Colored Deer, and cannot include any other Supporter Operators as members |
Operator
Module Description
In a small courtyard, a young farmer put down his tools and took a seat.'Hey, thanks a ton for helping me with my leg! Didn't have a whole lotta practice swinging these tools around and nearly crippled myself, couldn't even walk.'
The doctor packaged the herbs along with the formula, carefully instructing the patient to mind the timing and frequency of taking the medicine.
The farmer sat on the ground and looked up at the mountains, saying: 'Doctor! I can reclaim half an acre of land a day, but there are so many mouths to feed in the village. If I want to free up the entire mountain to grow food for 'em all, even another century might not be enough!
'Doctor, got any recipes that'd give me the long life and boundless strength of a burdenbeast? The whole village is counting on me!'
The doctor smiled with a furrowed brow, folding an extra corner in a medical tome. 'I'll see what I can do.'
The doctor traveled far and wide, and by the time she knocked on the doors of that small courtyard once more, several more tombstones were dotting the wilderness.
The farmer was sitting at the doorstep, holding a shriveled ear of wheat. His face had become wrinkled, his fist beating at his chest as he gasped for breath. 'The old burdenbeast passed on. The poor fella didn't even last as long as me.'
The doctor had seen this before. She said that he wasn't sick, only that he should avoid excessive exertion, before writing a few more prescriptions.
The farmer set the herbs aside: 'I wanna send my youngest to a nomadic city, where he'd have a better future. But, there ain't enough money here, not enough land.'
He grasped the reins of the newly-purchased young burdenbeast, and thought long and hard. 'Doctor, if I keep on farmin' like this, I don't think I'm gonna last very long... What do you reckon I do? If I'm gone, what's my kid gonna do? ...I don't suppose you could give me a few extra years?'
The doctor did not know what else to say; all she could do was take out a few pellets of medicine: 'These can either bolster your vitality, or...'
When the doctor passed through countless fields, walked through villages and towns of all shapes and sizes, and heard all manner of prayers, she would think back to that gaunt, bony burdenbeast and the farmer goading it onward.
There were more people in the small courtyard than usual. The farmer was lying there on the bed, his sons and daughters holding his hands. Behind them stood their sons and daughters, looking at her as if imploring her to do something.
The doctor approached. 'You asked me before if there was a medicine that could grant you long life. I've made it, so if you take it now, you can still...'
The old man remained silent, his shrunken face finally moving: 'No need. How could something like that really exist? ...Doctor, you won't get any older, but even if I took it, it probably wouldn't do anything...'
The doctor followed his gaze outside the room. The seeds had only been half-sown, and the farmer's youngest son was still there, his legs covered in mud. The old farmer let out a sigh and closed his eyes, and the son began to cry softly.
The doctor stepped into the mountainous woods.
'Is there no cure for old age?' Nobody answered, only the whispers of the mountains and trees, and the low cries of the fowlbeasts.
The wild mountain lotus spoke: 'There is no cure for old age. The search for immortality is but the pipe dream of nobles and aristocrats.'
'Is there no cure for illness?'
The beastling spoke: 'Illness can be cured. All sentient beings seek only to be free of disease and disaster.'
The doctor turned around. The wild mountain lotus bloomed, the beastling lapped at water, but neither said a word.
The doctor then understood. 'Not for immortality, but to avert disaster. The people are suffering, and I shall only treat illness from now on.'
