Time passed. Four months had come and gone, and what had once seemed like a distant nightmare had become Cassian's waking reality.
His body, mind, and spirit had been broken, reassembled, and shattered again.
No, this wasn't training anymore.
This was torture.
"Again, boy."
Cassian could barely catch his breath as he dropped to his knees in front of Rock. His arms felt like they were on fire, muscles aching from the endless regimen that never seemed to end. His face was slick with sweat, dirt caked on his skin from the endless drills, and yet Rock's mocking voice rang clear as ever.
"Up! You're not done yet!" The orc's booming voice rang through the air like a battle cry. "You want to go to the Holy Capital? You want to be a healer? Then learn to survive."
"Rock," Cassian panted, gasping for air. "I'm a healer. I heal people. Not… not fight battles—"
Rock's harsh laugh interrupted him. "Boy, you're going to need to do both. This is no world for soft healers who can't stand their ground."
Before Cassian could reply, Rock threw a blunt sword at his feet. "Pick it up. You're going to learn to fight. Whether you like it or not."
Cassian groaned but grabbed the sword, stumbling as he stood. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead. But Rock was relentless.
"Too slow," Rock taunted. "You're as slow as a snail crawling on mud. Maybe I should throw some oil on the ground to make it easier for you."
Cassian, already drenched in sweat and humiliation, barely managed to hold his ground as Rock lunged at him, swinging his own heavy sword. A painful clang rang out as the weapons collided.
"Is this how a healer fights?" Rock jeered, circling him like a predator. "Pathetic. You should be ashamed."
Cassian's arms were trembling from the weight of the sword. His legs felt like jelly, and his mind was foggy. Every strike Rock made sent shockwaves through his body.
"Try harder!" Rock bellowed, kicking his feet out from under him. Cassian crashed to the ground with a painful thud. "Get up! No one cares if you're a healer! If you can't defend yourself, you'll die just like the rest of them. And I'll be the one who buries you!"
Cassian was barely holding on. His mind was screaming for mercy. But there was none to be found in Rock's eyes. Only cold, brutal determination.
It wasn't just the sword training.
Cassian had learned, or rather suffered through, archery training as well. Rock handed him a bow one morning, grinning wickedly.
"Learn this, too. And don't even think about missing."
Cassian had no idea how to use a bow. He barely had the energy to lift it, let alone aim it. But with Rock standing behind him, every failed shot felt like a personal insult.
Thud.
An arrow missed the target by miles.
Whoosh.
A crossbow bolt grazed Cassian's ear, nearly taking it off.
"Miss again, and you'll be my target next time," Rock growled, already pulling back another arrow to launch at him.
Cassian, terrified, focused as hard as he could and drew the bowstring back. His hands were shaking, his breath coming in uneven bursts.
"Concentrate! You're not going to survive if you can't even hit a target!" Rock yelled, his voice thunderous. "Do you think you're going to heal people with this weakness?!"
Cassian took aim again, forcing his body to cooperate. He fired—thunk—the arrow landed a little closer this time, but still off-center.
"Better, but not good enough!" Rock sneered. "I'll show you how it's done."
With one massive swing, Rock snapped a wooden pole in half with his bare hands and turned it into a deadly makeshift weapon. He swung it in rapid circles and grinned menacingly.
"Get up, Cassian. We're just getting started."
As Cassian's body broke down day after day under the brutal training, the other adventurers noticed.
Word spread. And as Cassian's departure grew near, more adventurers came to him for healing. They knew he was leaving, and even though they resented the Church's decree, they knew what he had done for them. He had saved lives, healed wounds, and given hope when all seemed lost.
But the adventurers weren't the only ones who had something to say. It was hard to miss the angry murmurs when Silas entered the room, grumbling as he made his way to his bed. The hippo-like man could hardly stand, his face permanently bruised, swollen, and miserable. His own body bore the scars of the adventurers' frustration, all directed at him for his constant attempts to make Cassian's life hell.
"Damn that healer," Silas mumbled as he flopped onto his bed, rubbing his sore backside. "Damn him for making me pay. Damn that bastard Cassian…"
Cassian was aware of the beatings. The adventurers didn't try to hide it. They beat Silas whenever he walked into outside. His face had become a familiar sight—swollen with bruises and covered in bandages as he limped from one room to the next.
The manager who had once been his ally had thrown in the towel, quitting and leaving behind nothing but a resignation letter, complete with a parting shot to Silas's already battered body. "I'm done. I'm out of here. Good luck, hippo."
But in the midst of all the suffering, Cassian received an unexpected gift.
The Healer's Guild stepped forward with a gesture of kindness.
Mira and the others approached him quietly one evening.
"We've been watching you," Mira said. "You've shown persistence despite everything."
They handed him two powerful spells:
[Detoxification] – To remove poisons and harmful substances from the body.
[Area Heal] – A spell capable of healing multiple people in one burst.
"These are your gifts, Cassian," Mira said softly. "We've been tracking your progress, and you've earned this."
Cassian couldn't help but smile, gratitude flooding through him. "Thank you, Mira. I… I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," she replied gently. "Just keep going. Show the world who you really are."
Cassian's best place, as always, was the cafeteria. It was the only place where he could eat in peace and not be berated or forced into another grueling training exercise.
The Bear Chef, now practically family to Cassian, had started making even more extravagant meals for him.
"Eat, eat! I'm not gonna let you starve to death under that orc," the Bear Chef growled, placing a plate of roasted meats and thick stews before him.
Cassian chuckled between bites. "I'm not going to die, Bear Chef. But thank you. I couldn't have made it through these months without your food."
Bear Chef grinned back, slapping his large belly. "Of course you couldn't! I'm the best damn cook in the land!"
And, of course, Lia. The receptionist who always had a bright smile for him, even on his worst days.
She had been his sounding board, his quiet support, and a steadying force.
"I'm going to miss you," she said softly one evening, handing him a cup of warm tea. Her smile was sad, but there was understanding in her eyes.
"I'll miss you too," Cassian said, his voice hoarse. "But I think this is the right path for me."
"You'll do great, Cassian," Lia said, her eyes shining. "I know it."
And now, only one month remained.
One month until his journey to the Holy Capital.
Cassian sat at the edge of his bed, gazing out at the horizon. The exhaustion from the past months weighed heavily on him, but there was also something else. Something more.
Determination.
"I'll visit my parents before I leave," he murmured, standing and grabbing a small pouch filled with the coins he had earned. He felt the weight of it in his hand, and for the first time, it didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a promise.
"I'll buy them something nice. Something to show them that… I didn't forget."
–To be continued...