She left the inn with the morning's cold air hitting her bare legs. The forest clearing was a short distance away, a quiet, solitary place where the only sound was the crunch of leaves under her feet. She took the opportunity to call her brother, who finally materialized before her. "Wish me luck," she said, and he smiled. "You have to try harder, little sister. You've been at this for several days and still haven't achieved anything. But I believe in you." His brother's words were somewhat cruel but true, and she also believed in herself, so she smiled back. Upon arriving, Erik was already there, performing a series of warm-up exercises with a grace and efficiency she could only dream of. He wore hardened leather armor and a steel sword at his hip. He stopped when he saw her, his blue eyes scanning her from top to bottom with a critical and clearly disapproving expression. "Is that your training gear?" he asked, his voice lacking the warmth of the previous day. It was the voice of an instructor, not a savior.
"Yes," Esther replied, suddenly feeling ashamed, feeling the need to justify herself. "It's... it's from my family." She hastened to add, with a half-truth: "It regenerates and cleans itself. That's why I use it." Erik frowned, but seemed to accept the explanation, though unconvinced. "It's good quality, I guess. But it's useless for this. It won't protect you from a scratch, let alone a cut." He stepped back and crossed his arms. "But I guess it's not my problem. I warned you I'd push your limits. If you can't handle the pain, spend your money on healing potions or some magic drug. There are some stronger ones than the cheap ones, if you can afford them. They'll be your only safety net." The training was exactly what he promised: methodical torture. First, he made her run around the clearing until her lungs burned and her vision blurred. Then, he taught her three basic sword strikes, forcing her to repeat them until her hands, gloveless, were covered in blisters and the wood was stained with her blood. Finally, they sparred. Erik barely moved, deflecting her clumsy attacks with insulting ease, sending painful vibrations up her arms every time their swords clashed. The session ended when she collapsed, falling to her knees and vomiting the little bread she had eaten, her muscles trembling uncontrollably.
"Tomorrow at the same time," Erik said, without a hint of pity in his voice. "If you can't make it, don't come back." He turned and left, leaving her alone, broken and humiliated in the clearing.
She dragged her feet back to the inn, her body screaming in pain. Lyra was waiting for her, and upon seeing her, her face filled with concern. She helped her up the stairs and laid her on the bed. "You can't keep going like this," Lyra said, her voice soft but firm. "Your body won't hold up." Despite the pain, Esther was strangely euphoric. "But I'm progressing, Lyra. I feel it. For the first time, I feel like I'm progressing." With an almost feverish determination, she asked Lyra to teach her how to use healing on herself, not just on others. Lyra refused outright. "Esther, no. It's too soon. Trying to transfer damage from your own body right now is too advanced. You could bleed internally if you do it wrong." She proposed a safer, more controlled exercise: "Let's practice transferring damage to another living being," she said, taking the cage with the remaining rats.
"Now," Lyra instructed, "focus on the pain in your blistered hands. Don't reject it. Feel it. Accept it. Now, imagine pushing that pain onto them. Visualize their wounds appearing on the rodents while yours close. Remember, healing isn't creating new tissue; it's moving damage from one place to another." Esther, exhausted but determined, tried. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the burning pain in her palms and visualizing the transfer. For a moment, nothing happened. She felt the frustration. But then, a faint, gentle warmth spread through her hands. The pain didn't disappear completely, but it lessened. She opened her eyes, amazed. The blisters and blood were gone from her hands, transferred to the two rats, which now lay on the ground with their front paws injured. The success was total, but the effort left her breathless and trembling.
Lyra smiled. "See? You're stronger than you think." Then, her face grew more serious as she saw the rest of Esther's body, covered in bruises and scratches. "Now I'll heal you, so you can see the real cost." She explained that to heal her entire body, they would need dozens of rats, and they only had three left. "That's why, sometimes, the one healing ends up being the container if we have nowhere to send the damage." Lyra placed her hands over Esther's body, closing her eyes. She transferred the damage from Esther's bruises and wounds to the three rats, which died instantly from the overload. But it wasn't enough. Lyra, with a pained expression, took the rest of the damage upon herself. A bruise appeared on her arm and a small cut opened on her cheek. She turned pale and trembled, exhausted. "Now you understand," she told Esther, her voice weak. "If I tried to heal myself, I would have nowhere to transfer the damage. The damage would stay in my body, multiplying. That's the risk of using magic incorrectly: you can destroy yourself."
After the magic lesson, both were exhausted, but Esther's stomach was growling, demanding energy. "We have to eat something," Esther said, her voice still weak. "I need to recover my strength. Let's go to the central part of the city, there must be more places than this inn." Lyra nodded, worried about her friend's paleness. As they walked towards the wider, busier streets, the harassment hell resumed. It seemed the reputation of the "girl in the ridiculous uniform" had spread. A group of dockworkers carrying boxes stopped to watch her pass. "Look at that sway! With an ass like that, my heart breaks from how delicious it is!" one shouted, laughing loudly. Another whistled. "Careful, sweetie! With a skirt that short, every step you take is an invitation. You can even see the color of your underwear!" A third, bolder one, rubbed his crotch without disguise. "I'd love for that plump ass to give me the full tour, not just the view." On the outside, Esther showed nothing. Her face was an impassive mask, her step firm and constant, her gaze fixed forward as if the men and their words didn't exist. But inside, she felt terribly humiliated. Every comment was a stab, every laugh, a reminder of her vulnerability. The heat of shame burned her cheeks, but she fought to contain it, desperately trying to find a way to live with this constant humiliation, to turn it into background noise she could ignore. Taking advantage of the walk, she asked Lyra in a low voice: "Do you think I should buy potions? Do they work fast? If I can recover faster, maybe I can train harder. And Eric mentioned something about magic drugs."
Lyra frowned. "Yes, common potions are fast, but they don't heal everything. They just close wounds and relieve pain. They're a patch, not a solution." Then, she remembered Erik's comment. "And about what that boy said... the magic drugs... I don't know much, Esther. But I know they're prohibited in almost every place in the Kingdom. They're illegal. Although in a city like this... who knows. They're used to increase power, either permanently or temporarily, depending on the drug. But there's always a price to pay. And they're very addictive. Once you start, you can't stop. They destroy people." Esther listened in silence, processing the information. Power in exchange for freedom. It didn't seem like a good deal. They arrived at a crowded square where several street food stalls filled the air with a delicious aroma. They bought two bowls of a thick fish stew and freshly baked bread. They sat on a secluded bench and, as they ate, they felt energy returning to their bodies. After finishing the stew, they went to a nearby small apothecary and, with some of their money, bought three fast-acting healing potions. The apothecary warned them that they healed superficial wounds in minutes, but would do nothing against exhaustion or internal damage. Back at the inn, as they climbed the stairs, Esther stopped. "Lyra..." she began, looking at the floor. "When... when I fought the goblin, on the way to Dry Port... I made a mess. I couldn't even touch it. If it weren't for you..." She fell silent, the memory of her own ineptitude filling her with shame. "I never told you. I was too ashamed. And because of the bad memory it brought me... I preferred not to say anything more."
Lyra took her hand. "It's in the past, Esther. That's what training is for, right? So it doesn't happen again." They returned to their room. The sun was already high in the sky. Esther had to work in a few hours and, despite the food and the potions, she was completely exhausted.
The work at the inn was a hell of noise and smoke. Esther moved between the tables, a heavy tray trembling in her hands. The air was thick with sweat, beer, and the breath of dozens of men whose eyes followed her as if she were the only prey in the room. The verbal harassment was constant, a torrential downpour of dirty comments that seeped into her skin. "Hey, sweetie! That shirt's real thin," a man shouted from a table, pointing with his mug. "I can see your tits! And what tits!" Another whistled as she bent to pick up a fallen mug. "And what's under that skirt? You wearing anything, or are you ready to use?" The question was followed by a general roar of laughter. A third, bolder one, rubbed his crotch without disguise, staring at her as he did so. "With that mouth, I'm sure you know how to do other things, eh, little girl?" Every comment was a small cut, every look a dirty hand brushing against her without touching. She tried to ignore them, focusing on her work, but her cheeks burned and she felt the knot of humiliation tightening in her throat. Marco watched from the bar, impassive, and his silence was as painful as the insults.
Finally, dinnertime ended. The customers began to leave, some giving her a final pat on the ass as they passed, others simply spitting on the floor at her feet. Exhausted, Esther went to the bar to collect her tips. Marco pointed to a small wooden plate. There were a few copper coins and one silver coin. It was a pittance, an insulting alms for the humiliation she had endured. As she counted the coins with glassy eyes, she felt a presence behind her. It was Kork. He approached stealthily, and before she could react, he slid his hand under her skirt and grabbed her ass firmly. Esther stood completely still, like a statue of ice. "The girl we had before was much smarter," Kork whispered in her ear, his hot, foul breath. He squeezed the flesh, his fingers sinking into her. "She'd lean over a little more when serving. She'd brush their arms with her tits or run her ass over their shoulders. She got much bigger tips." He gave her a slow, possessive massage of her rear, waiting for a reaction. "Understood?"
Esther didn't move. She didn't push his hand away. She didn't say anything. She just looked down, at the tavern's stained floor. The world shrank to the feeling of Kork's hand on her skin, to the humiliation burning in her soul. She knew what he wanted. She knew what she had to do to survive. "Yes," she whispered, her voice broken and almost inaudible. "Understood." She let him. Kork smiled, a dirty, triumphant smile of victory, and gave her one last squeeze before withdrawing his hand. He left, leaving her there, alone at the bar, feeling defeated once more.
On her way up to sleep, Esther thought that she needed to get strong, and fast. Her weakness was making her live through all this harassment from everyone, and being unable to do anything to stop it was driving her crazy. When she went up, she told Lyra that she wanted to sleep to be rested for tomorrow, and Lyra hugged her. But before surrendering to sleep, Esther spoke to her brother in her mind. "Are you there?" she asked, and her brother replied, "Yes, as always." Esther paused. "Do you know what those magic drugs are?" The question surprised him, because while he heard everything Esther did, he had either overlooked this or hadn't given it importance. "What I remember from my years when I was alive, there were four that were the most well-known, but all of them were very dangerous and addictive. One to increase magical power, one to increase vitality, physical endurance, and the body's natural healing, one that temporarily increases strength, endurance, and speed, and the most dangerous one, the one that gives or increases demonic powers."
Esther listened attentively. "And besides being addictive, what's the danger?" she asked, confused. "I don't know. Besides, this is what I knew when I was alive. Maybe they don't exist anymore, or there are new ones. I was never interested in that. Still, if you don't abuse it, it wouldn't be a bad plan. If you were a normal adventurer, I wouldn't tell you this, but with the Goddess's improved body, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea." Esther nodded mentally and then fell asleep.