Somewhere in the bustling merchant district of Alvara...
"We've lost how many this month?!"
The voice cracked through the air like a whip, echoing inside the opulent office of the Sanctum of Restoration. Golden chandeliers swung slightly overhead, untouched by customers. Rows of overpriced potions sat gathering dust on glass shelves.
Silas, the portly owner with cheeks resembling mashed dough and a nose too big for his face, slammed both hands on the table, his rings clinking as papers fluttered to the floor.
His manager flinched. "T-Thirty-six… slaves, sir. Freed from debt. They said they didn't need us anymore because of… the boy."
Silas narrowed his eyes. "Boy?"
"The Kind Healer. Young lad. Lives and works in the Adventurer Guild. Charges… only two silver coins."
Silas's face turned purple with rage. "Two silver coins?! That's less than the price of a basic potion! Is he trying to be a saint?!"
"Actually, the people are calling him 'Little Saint' already…"
Silas bellowed, sweeping the papers off the table in a furious roar. "He wants to play healer? I'll teach him the laws of supply and demand! Let's see how long he plays hero when the world bites back!"
The Next Morning – Adventurer Guild Training Grounds
Cassian was drenched in sweat, pushing his mana into focused streams along his arms. He'd been training since dawn—determined to enhance his precision and control without relying on potions. His white shirt clung to his frame, soaked, while his breath came in steady puffs.
"Mana pulse test… attempt number twenty-eight," he muttered.
He placed a leaf on his palm, trying to heal it—fine-tuning the flow to replicate high-precision healing.
"Maybe if I picture the leaf as a wounded heart—oh wait, I'd break that too."
He laughed to himself, then froze as a shadow fell across him.
He looked up.
Hippo.
That was the only word his mind gave him.
The man in front of him had jowls that seemed to defy gravity, with puffy cheeks and a square chin buried beneath rolls of flesh. He was balding, but his eyebrows were thick and twitchy. The overall vibe was like a hippo who had skipped leg day and committed tax fraud.
Cassian flinched. "By the stars… Sorry, sir. I thought your face was a summoned beast for a moment."
Silas's eye twitched. "You. The Kind Healer?"
"Who's asking? Your face or your ego?"
Silas's grin twisted. "I'm here to offer you a position. At my clinic. You'll abandon your charity act, work under me, and make proper coin."
Cassian wiped sweat from his brow and looked up. "Let me guess… 90% of the earnings go to you, right? Do I get a free collar too?"
Silas's smile disappeared. "I'm not asking. You're coming. Or I'll make you."
Cassian's heart tensed, his body locking slightly—not out of fear, but the cursed kindness embedded in his soul. The part that screamed not to fight. Not to hurt.
He cursed himself silently. Why now? Why this weakness…?
Silas raised a hand, sneering. "Time to learn your place—"
SMACK.
The sound echoed like a thunderclap.
Cassian blinked. Silas blinked. Everyone around paused.
Behind Silas stood a mountain of muscle with burning eyes—Rock.
"Touch him, and you'll be sipping potions through your toes," Rock growled.
Silas stumbled. "W-Who are y—"
He didn't finish.
WHAM!
Rock lifted his foot and slammed it into Silas's buttocks with such force, it made a noise like a melon being dropped on cobblestones.
BAM!
WHACK!
SLAP!
THUD!
Each kick came with surgical precision, increasing in rhythm and power. Silas screamed, flailed, and begged as Rock grabbed him by the back of his collar, keeping him upright.
"AHHH! S-STOP—WAIT—PLEASE—MERCYYYYYY!"
"I'm fragile! I bruise like a peach!"
"My butt! MY PRECIOUS BUUUU—AAAH!"
Rock didn't stop.
Cassian sat down cross-legged nearby, holding his chin. "Should I start charging people to watch this? I could use the money…"
Another loud THUMP made the ground shake.
"Consider this community service," Rock muttered, delivering another swift kick.
Silas sobbed. "P-Please! My posterior can't take anymore! It's turning into pudding!"
Only when Rock saw tears stream down the man's swollen cheeks—and heard an audible fart of surrender—did he release him with a shove.
Silas collapsed to the ground like a bag of potatoes, groaning in pain.
"If I see you near the Guild again, it won't be your butt I kick. It'll be your pride," Rock warned, standing tall over the man. "Now crawl."
Silas scrambled away like a kicked dog, muttering curses.
Later, behind the training grounds...
Cassian and Rock sat beneath a shade tree, watching the sky shift into its afternoon glow.
Cassian sighed. "That was… intense."
Rock crossed his arms. "You really thought healing people for cheap wouldn't make enemies?"
Cassian gave a sheepish smile. "I thought being nice would protect me…"
Rock snorted. "Kindness without caution is just another form of naivety."
Cassian turned toward him. "Then why not stop me?"
"Because it's working," Rock said simply. "People like you… they change the world in ways people like me can't. But don't be stupid about it. From now on, take someone with you. You have a lot of people who owe you their lives."
"Even if I'm not strong…?"
"You don't have to be. Just don't stand alone when you don't have to."
Cassian was quiet for a moment. His gaze drifted downward. "Sometimes… I hate this body, Rock. I can't fight. I can't shout. Even when I want to scream or punch back, I freeze. Like there's a weight on my soul."
Rock looked at him for a long second. Then placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"You don't need fists to be brave, Cassian. You stood there, laughed in a monster's face, and still didn't back down. That's strength too. You just don't see it yet."
Cassian blinked.
Then gave a small, tired smile. "Thanks, Rock."
"You owe me lunch," Rock replied bluntly.
"Cheap lunch."
"You're the reason I had to touch Silas's butt. I want dessert too."
Outside the Guild – Moments Later
Silas stumbled out of the Adventurer Guild's main doors like a man just released from an arena full of ogres. His clothes were torn, his hair stuck out like straw from every direction, and his once-prideful rings were now clinking loosely from swollen fingers.
He limped down the stone steps, cradling his rear like a sacred relic.
"Damn brats… filthy, good-for-nothing thugs. This city's gone soft—"
Just then, the air shifted.
Three figures stepped out from the shadows near the guild gates, their silhouettes glowing faintly under the midday sun. The one in front was a tall woman in sleek black armor, a massive halberd strapped to her back. To her left stood a robed mage with glowing blue eyes and frost seeping from his sleeves. The third was a brawler—a muscular man who cracked his knuckles loud enough to startle birds from nearby trees.
All three had one thing in common: glowing emblems on their chest plates.
S-Rank.
Silas froze. "W-Wait. I didn't mean to—"
The brawler stepped forward, smirking. "Heard you threatened our healer."
The female knight tilted her head. "Did you really think you could touch Cassian and get away with it?"
The mage simply raised one brow. "This one has a death wish."
Silas backed up. "N-Now now, I-I was just offering him a job—friendly offer! Just a little negotiation!"
"Was your foot negotiating his ribs?" the knight asked.
Before Silas could answer, the brawler dashed forward, lifted him by the collar, and hurled him into a nearby cabbage cart.
CRASH.
Vegetables flew into the air like confetti.
Silas rolled onto the ground, coughing and sputtering. "S-STOP! I'm a healer too! I'm a man of peace—"
WHAM.
The knight's boot met his stomach, sending him sliding across the cobbles.
CRACK.
The mage cast a low-tier freeze spell, icing Silas's pants and turning his screams shriller than a choirboy at winter mass.
"Next time you want to threaten someone," the brawler said, grabbing him by the collar and hoisting him upright again, "pick someone who doesn't have half the guild ready to stomp your face."
"P-Please! Mercy! I was wrong! I'll offer free healing! Discount healing! I'll even kiss his feet!"
The knight sneered. "Too late for that."
SLAM.
He was launched into a nearby wooden barrel, which split in half as Silas flopped to the ground like a limp sack of meat.
Groaning, battered, and ice dripping from his butt cheeks, Silas barely managed to crawl away on all fours.
His entire body throbbed. His pride was in tatters. His butt felt like it had been used for target practice by an archery guild.
Still, as he dragged himself toward the alley, he spat blood and grit out of his mouth and hissed—
"You'll all regret this… that brat… that damn brat… he'll learn this world doesn't reward kindness… I'll show him."
And with those cursed words, Silas vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only cabbage leaves, broken barrels… and the cold silence of people who didn't care.
End of Chapter