Chapter 45: Hero Seed
"Then let's make a promise," Xien said, setting his chopsticks down. "When I can free up some time, I'll go with you and treat your mother. How does that sound?"
The girl's eyes widened, hope rising—only to wobble with worry.
"R-really? But… this illness isn't something simple. My parents and their friends tried all kinds of methods before, and nothing worked…"
If there had been an easy solution, her family wouldn't have ended up living like this.
Across from her, the boy answered with a confident, unshakable smile.
"It's fine. Trust me. Trust your adventurer," Xien said. "I'll make your mother recover."
"…Okay." She nodded hard, as if forcing courage into her own chest. "Thank you, Xien. I believe you."
"Then just call me Xien," he said, gentler now.
As they talked, the distance between them quietly shrank.
With a new hope tucked into her heart, the girl smiled more, and more honestly. Watching that sincere smile, Xien felt a quiet satisfaction.
This power—wasn't it meant for moments like this?
They continued eating and chatting, their mood light—until, as if the world couldn't tolerate things going too smoothly, an ugly voice cut into the warmth.
"Hah—hah—hah! Fastest Level Two? You're cheating, aren't you? At least have the decency to cheat within reason," a hooded man sneered. "You're just some rookie healer who only recently crawled out of nowhere, and you've got the nerve to claim you're already Level Two?"
"The Dungeon—have you even been there? Or did you raise nothing at all and fake everything? If it were me, I'd be so ashamed I wouldn't dare show my face outside…"
The moment those words fell, the entire tavern went silent.
Eyes turned. Faces shifted.
Some were curious. Some were eager for spectacle. Some were disdainful. Some simply watched as if this were a free performance.
An unexpected show—no one hated it.
Adventurers didn't exactly live by strict moral codes. In a world short on entertainment, gossip was worth its weight in gold, and now everyone wanted to see how the so-called "Rising Star" would handle this.
Would he crumble? Would he prove he was all hype?
At Xien's side, the little miss's expression flickered from worry to anger. She started to stand—
Xien pressed a hand down gently, stopping her.
He turned his head toward the hooded man, genuinely puzzled.
"…Do you have something you want to say?"
The hooded man's voice rose, emboldened by attention.
"What, weakling? Got nothing to say? You learned to be a liar at this age and you're not even embarrassed?"
Xien blinked once.
Then he turned his head and called out, loud and clear:
"Mia! There's a pig squealing over here—did you forget to deal with today's ingredients?"
A heartbeat of silence.
Then, from the direction of the kitchen, a short, broad-shouldered dwarf woman stepped out, wiping her hands. She grinned like she'd just found a joke worth keeping.
"Huh? Don't spout nonsense, brat. How would my ingredients wander out front and bother my guests?" she boomed. "That one's probably something the customer brought in themselves."
Her voice was so loud the whole tavern heard it.
A burst of laughter exploded across the room.
The tension evaporated in an instant—especially from the little miss, who couldn't hold it in. Even Syr, who had hurried over at the commotion, bit her lip and failed to suppress a smile.
The hooded man's face twisted.
"You—You damn brat… what did you just say…? How dare you!"
Xien's tone stayed mild, almost conversational.
"Am I wrong?" he asked. "If you're not a pig, why are you squealing?"
Then he tilted his head, eyes narrowing with polite contempt.
"Also… why did you come here without a brain?"
The hooded man bristled, veins jumping at his temple.
"What did you call me?!"
"I'm trying to figure something out," Xien continued, unfazed. "Do you not know my Familia? Or do you not know who I am?"
"If you don't know the first, go ask around later—find out what happens in this city when someone picks a fight with Astraea Familia."
"And if you don't know the second… then fine. Tell me your Familia's name."
Xien's smile sharpened into something cold.
"As a healer, I'll put you—and your Familia—on a permanent blacklist. No treatment. No help. Ever."
He let the words hang, then asked softly:
"Let's see how many days you and your Familia can remain in Orario after that."
He wasn't joking. In a city crowded with gods and Familias, offending a reputable healer was a great way to shorten your lifespan. And that was before counting all the "warmhearted" people who would happily do a favor to earn goodwill.
The hooded man's swagger faltered.
"T-that… You're Astraea Familia, so why…?"
That one sentence made Xien's eyes turn razor-sharp.
So he did know.
Meaning: this wasn't a random drunk running his mouth. It was deliberate.
Good. That made things simpler.
"Oh?" Xien said. "So you do know."
"Then you should also know this: we believe in justice, but each of us has our own way of holding it."
He stood up, voice calm but carrying.
"And I'll tell you something else—so you, and everyone here, can hear it clearly."
"To heal the sick and save lives—that is the justice I choose."
"Starting now, anyone who truly needs help can come to Astraea Familia and seek treatment from me. First visit is free."
He raised a hand, palm up, like he was making a vow to the room itself.
"And this promise stands forever."
A hush fell so deep it felt like the tavern was holding its breath.
"As for the weight of my words—fine, I'll make it plain."
"Now that I'm Level Two, I can restore severed limbs. I can dispel certain curses that have resisted normal means."
He paused, letting the meaning sink in.
"What that implies… you can decide for yourselves."
All around them, breathing turned heavy. Eyes widened. Hands tightened around mugs.
Beside him, the little miss covered her mouth, staring—if that was true, then her mother's illness…
But Xien wasn't done.
"However," he continued, voice turning colder, "there's a condition."
"Anyone I deem unworthy—anyone I dislike—goes onto my blacklist. I won't treat them."
"And if you choose to help someone on that blacklist," Xien said, meeting the hooded man's gaze, "then you'll be on it too."
He smiled.
"So pray you never get injured. Hooded idiot."
Silence.
Then—like a dam breaking—the crowd erupted.
Cheers, shouts, excitement.
In a profession that lived on the edge of death, nothing was more alluring than a guarantee.
A healer who could regrow limbs and undo curses—and who was willing to offer help openly?
To the tavern's patrons, it was like someone had offered them an insurance policy for their lives.
Mia watched the scene, grinning.
That brat's head worked fast.
Now the hooded man was the one in the spotlight—and not in a good way.
Xien cocked his head.
"Now then, Mister Can't-Show-Your-Face," he said pleasantly, "what's your Familia's name?"
"So I can frame it, hang it up, and let all of Orario admire it."
The hooded man went pale.
"I…"
He panicked. Whatever task someone had given him—he'd completely ruined it.
And when he remembered the terrifying figure behind that task, fear swallowed him whole. His heart slammed against his ribs until something snapped.
"AAAH! Go to hell!"
He drew a weapon and charged straight at Xien.
Xien didn't flinch.
He moved first—softly, firmly pushing the little miss out of the danger zone with a protective hand.
Then his breathing shifted.
A low, resonant rhythm—like a dragon's growl.
His stance dropped.
Eight Extremes—opening form.
He timed it to the instant the attacker entered range, then stomped down with brutal precision.
The wooden floor exploded.
A shockwave of splintered boards and flying debris blasted outward. The hooded man's balance broke; he instinctively raised his arms to shield his face and stumbled forward, completely exposed.
Xien was already moving.
Like lightning.
"Eight Extremes—Iron Mountain!"
His shoulder drove forward with a terrifying, compact force—an elbow-and-shoulder crash that slammed into the man's chest.
Crack.
Bone fractured with a sound like snapping wood.
The hooded attacker shot backward through the tavern doors like a cannonball, skidding and rolling across the street before collapsing unconscious.
For a moment, the tavern was silent again—only this time, the silence was stunned.
People stared at Xien as if they'd never seen him before.
"…Isn't he a healer?"
"…That guy looked like Level Two."
"…He got sent flying in one hit."
Mia walked over, eyes narrowing at the crater in her floor.
"Brat," she said flatly, "you break my floor, you pay."
She wasn't really angry—more like giving him a reason to leave quickly before trouble escalated.
But Xien only smiled.
"Don't worry, Mia," he said, and gestured down. "Look—already fixed."
Everyone's gaze snapped to the damage.
A soft green light shimmered over the broken boards. The cracked wood knit together, fibers reweaving as if time itself was reversing.
In seconds, the floor was whole again.
Mia fell silent, staring.
That kind of life-force…
This kid was more unbelievable every time she saw him.
Xien turned to the room.
"That," he said clearly, "is proof."
"If my power can make dead wood live again, what do you think it can do for flesh and blood?"
Then he pointed toward the door.
"Starting tomorrow: one hour in the morning, one hour in the afternoon."
"Anyone who needs treatment—come to Astraea Familia's home and line up."
He gave Mia a respectful nod, then took the little miss with him and left the tavern behind.
He escorted the girl home.
She thanked him again and again, voice trembling with emotion, until Xien finally turned and headed back alone.
The hooded man had already been taken away by members of Ganesha Familia who were patrolling nearby. Xien explained what happened and what he suspected; they promised to interrogate the man and send any information they uncovered to Astraea Familia.
And the ripples Xien made that night spread fast.
His level-up.
His public vow.
His "blacklist."
His punch that launched a Level Two through a door.
The city buzzed.
People understood something instinctively:
In a city that yearned for heroes, a new candidate had appeared.
A seed.
Elsewhere—Loki Familia.
Finn, who had been considering their next move regarding the challenge aimed at two major Familias, received an urgent report.
He read it.
And raised his brows—just slightly.
That was enough to catch the attention of the tall elf nearby.
Riveria looked up from her work.
"What is it?" she asked. "Something changed?"
"Not exactly," Finn replied. Then, with a small smirk: "Though… it might be related to you."
He handed her the report.
Riveria took it, read, and after a long pause, her expression turned complicated.
Level-up. Provocation. Counterattack. Declaration.
And… the advisor girl involved.
Finn wasn't wrong—it really did have something to do with her.
"If what he said is true," Riveria murmured, "then it may be worth contacting him when we have the chance."
"But… Level Two, and he pulled off all that?" Her eyes narrowed. "His power is unusual."
Finn nodded.
"That's my read too. For now, the priority remains those two major Familias. As for a high-potential newcomer like this—keep the relationship friendly."
"And he's Astraea Familia," Riveria said, thoughtful. "So it shouldn't be hard to speak."
"Agreed."
Riveria stared at the report a moment longer, then went quiet.
She thought of a friend who was suffering—and of the conversation recorded in the report.
If he could truly heal that illness…
Then she would owe him a debt she couldn't repay lightly.
That night, Xien lay on his bed and sorted through his next steps.
His level had risen—but it still wasn't enough.
With this strength, he still couldn't defeat that assassin. He still couldn't uproot the darkness crawling under Orario.
He needed to climb faster.
He also needed to refine technique.
The "Transparent World" was a terrifying trump card, but the cost was steep. He needed to reach that realm through his own understanding—and if he could make it a natural state rather than a toggled skill, all the better.
As for healing, he had digested most of the books his goddess had collected. What he lacked now was practical experience.
Tomorrow's clinic hours would be the start.
A true doctor couldn't stop at "treating wounds."
If he couldn't drag someone back from the edge of death, what kind of healer was he?
And magic—magic was the remaining hole.
He had an enormous mana pool, but his efficiency was poor. He needed a spell capable of wide-area damage—something that could wipe out monsters quickly.
Otherwise, having that much power just to fuel breathing techniques and toss a few small fireballs was an insult to the gift.
This world had magic, but because most spells were granted by divine blessing, the system of learnable magic hadn't developed much. That meant he had mana comparable to a high-tier mage… but without a truly advanced spell, he could only release it in crude ways.
He had learned a mid-level fire spell through his master's guidance and his own trial and error.
Still not enough.
Too basic. Too weak for high-intensity combat.
And awakening new magic wasn't something you could force—though he already had one spell, he certainly wasn't going to complain about having more.
In that case…
He needed to talk to the Orange Cat.
Xien exhaled, called the little creature forth, and laid out his request without hesitation.
....
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