As Aldar navigates the alleyways, he finds it challenging to close the distance between himself and the woman who is in hot pursuit of the children. His efforts are further thwarted when the path forks, leading him astray. Eventually, he comes upon the scene: the adult woman lies sprawled on the cobblestones, semi-conscious and bleeding from a head wound. Upon noticing Aldar's arrival, one of the children—a youth noticeably taller than her companions—shouts, "Run! Reinforcements are coming!"

The sight of the injured woman abruptly shifts Aldar's priorities, banishing any thoughts of pursuing the children. It serves as a sobering reminder never to underestimate the resourcefulness of Illun's street kids. Filled with a sense of compassion, Aldar kneels beside the woman and begins to softly murmur the incantations of a healing spell known as "Healing Wounds." As the magical energy flows into her, she lets out a pained groan, indicating that her injuries are more severe than they initially appeared.

All the while, Aldar hears a faint murmur from the periphery of the scene. He chooses to concentrate solely on his patient, unaware of the crowd that's gradually assembling behind him. As the final words of his healing spell are uttered and the woman's wounds begin to mend, curiosity compels him to turn around. He is met with the gaze of the very children who had eluded the woman's grasp earlier.

Feeling a touch of unease in this unfamiliar environment, Aldar offers a cautious wave. The taller youth, who seems to serve as the de facto leader of the group, strides toward him. As she approaches, she calls out, “Hey, did you patch her up? I have to admit, she was far weaker than i thought.”

Sensing an odd vibe emanating from this young woman, Aldar carefully chooses his thoughts before speaking to avoid inciting any hostilities “Yes, I managed to heal her. Had I not been here, the situation could have taken a much darker turn,” he says. Pausing to assess both the immediate environment and the weight of his next words, he adds, “You don't appear concerned about potential consequences. I wouldn't be surprised if the city guards were hot on your heels.”

With a grin that's equal parts cunning and mocking, Karal shoots back, “You from the fancy part of town or somethin'? Folks don't just wander into Inrem, y'know. Lemme school ya, first off, don't call me 'kid.' I'm Karal, got it? Sixteen, no less. Now, you? You better bolt. Folks with your kinda tricks can fetch a nice penny 'round here. You're lucky sellin' people ain't my style.”

Sensing the crowd thickening, their collective gaze growing more and more intense, Aldar realizes he needs to get moving. He starts to make his way back toward the unconscious woman, intending to carry her out of this rapidly escalating situation. As he moves, he notices Karal's eyes locked on him, her grin widening. "Whatcha lookin' at? Think I'm cute or somethin'? If you're that taken, I could show ya a good time tonight," she says, her laughter tinged with a raw, mocking tone.

Eager to avoid more entanglements, Aldar lifts the unconscious woman as swiftly as he can and pivots to exit. Though responding to the cheeky comment, “Thanks for the option, but I’ll have to refuse, and you shouldn’t treat your elders so roughly, one day this might come back to bite you.”

Karal's laughter trails off like a fading echo, leaving Aldar with a lingering unease as he presses forward.

His path is abruptly obstructed by a woman whose face seems chiseled from ice; her stern expression doesn't seem unintentional—it looks innate.

"My, what do we have here? A healer wandering the slums. You must have a curiously altruistic soul, young man," she says. Her words, devoid of warmth, hang heavy in the air, and a sly, cold smile contorts her lips. As she steps into his path, an eerie gust of wind whistles past, as if summoned by her presence.

"Who are you?" Aldar's voice comes out more brusque than he intends, as his body involuntarily stiffens, bracing for an unknown threat.

The woman's cackle cuts through the tense atmosphere like a knife. “Worry not, boy. I've no plans to harm you—at least not now. Merely consider me a passerby with interests. You may call me Melandyr. I have a feeling we'll cross paths again.”

Feeling an odd mixture of relief and lingering apprehension, Aldar watches as Melandyr drifts away, her sinister aura slowly swallowed by the depths of Inrem's streets. Anxious to escape the ghetto's oppressive atmosphere, he hastens his pace.

As he finally steps onto the bustling main street, the woman he's carrying regains consciousness. “Wha... where am I?” she stutters, disoriented and vulnerable.

Hoping to alleviate her distress, Aldar recounts the harrowing events that led her to this point. As the gravity of her near-miss sinks in, a torrent of anxiety and dread floods her features, making it painfully clear what could have befallen her had Aldar not intervened.

Expressing her deep gratitude, the woman is insistent on guiding Aldar back to her residence to offer him a fitting reward for his act of kindness. While appreciative of her gesture, Aldar tactfully declines, citing that his motivation for helping was altruistic and not driven by the expectation of a reward. After some persuasive conversation to assure her that his refusal was sincere, Aldar finally finds himself unencumbered and free to continue his day—although with a somewhat diminished sense of enthusiasm.

Refocused, and with his initial aim of securing essential supplies for his upcoming adventure still pending, Aldar realigns his priorities and resumes his search for a suitable shop.

———

After scouring the streets for just over an hour, Aldar finally stumbles upon a well-stocked store catering to adventurers. His spirits lifted by successfully accomplishing his primary objective, he makes his way to the adventure guild with renewed vigor.

Upon entering the guild, Aldar is immediately struck by the raucous atmosphere. Burly women engage in spirited brawls, as a crowd of enthusiastic adventurers place bets on the outcomes. However, as he steps further into the space, he senses a change in the atmosphere—eyes scrutinizing him from all directions, as if assessing his worth or potential threat level. Quick to assess his surroundings, Aldar spots the reception desk; it's divided into two sides, one with a lengthy queue and the other noticeably vacant.

Mustering up his courage, Aldar heads towards the unoccupied side of the desk. As he moves, he overhears murmurs from those waiting in line, with conversations centering on the male receptionist who occupies the empty section.

“Thank the divines that I'm wounded today.”

“Lucky bastard. If only I'd known he'd be here today, I'd have dragged my ass through hot coals just to have him heal me.”

“You think these wounds fester on their own? I've been battling monsters every day, deliberately leaving some wounds untreated just to have him heal me. Your weak will disgusts me.”

As Aldar navigates further into the room, the murmurs of another group of adventurers start to fill the air.

“With each step I take, my desire to eat him up just intensifies.”
“How I wish I could just bind him to a chair and stuff his mouth with my panties as I ride his dick for a whole day.”
“It’s in these moments that I understand kids wanting to become a succubus, think of it, charming him and having him lick you from top to bottom. You could even ride his face.”

As Aldar nears the reception desk, the comments from the crowd grow increasingly audacious, each woman seemingly competing to outdo the others with their brazen remarks.

Unaware of his approach, the female receptionist's attention is solely focused on her male colleague, her eyes brimming with unwavering devotion. Shifting his gaze to the other side of the desk, Aldar finally recognizes the man presiding over this branch of the Adventurers' Guild—it's Maero, his friend from their orphanage days. Clad in the guild's signature robes, Maero sports a pendant adorned with the emblem of the Pantheon of Xane.

For a brief moment, Aldar takes guilty pleasure in witnessing his friend's evident discomfort amid the sea of adoring women. However, recognizing the stress and anxiety clouding Maero's face, Aldar decides not to add to his woes.

Unaware of his presence, the female receptionist is so absorbed in her male colleague that Aldar practically has to shout to get her attention. “Excuse me, I'd like to register as an adventurer. What are the requirements and rules?”

Finally acknowledging him, the receptionist gives him a hasty glance, clearly eager to return her gaze to Maero. “Firstly, you have to be at least 16. You'll be assessed by an appropriate instructor to become an E-grade adventurer. Lastly, you'll need to pay 5 silver coins for an identity card. Any further questions? Come back tomorrow.”

Somewhat taken aback by her briskness, Aldar weighs his options before deciding to register early for his future ventures. “I'd like to register as a healer then. When and where will the test take place?”

Taken aback for a moment, the receptionist sizes Aldar up, sensing the rarity of a healer. Her tone shifts to a more professional rhythm, but before she can continue, Aldar interjects, “Is Maero going to be my tester?”

His question brings the entire queue to a stunned silence, followed by visible agitation. The atmosphere becomes palpable with hostility.

A towering woman with a brawny build erupts, “Listen, punk, any and all dealings with Maero happen in this line. I've been waiting for two hours to get this wound healed!”

Reluctant to endure a multi-hour wait yet keen to connect with his old friend, Aldar dispels the illusion concealing his true visage. Stepping confidently toward the muscular woman who had been berating him, he softly intones Healing wounds. “Consider yourself healed—by a man, satisfied?.”

Silence descends upon the crowd, shattered only when a daring woman breaks free from the line and saunters over to Aldar. “Care to heal me as well? I've got a burned butt that could use your attention.” Without waiting for his response, she swiftly conjures a flame and singes her own butt, flashing him a mischievous wink as she does.

Amused by the bizarre yet comical turn of events, Aldar can't help but oblige. He utters the healing chant once more, this time breaking into hearty laughter. The crowd watches in fascination as the audacious woman's injury is healed. Inspired, a slew of copycats begin to emerge, each eager to test the boundaries of Aldar's willingness to heal—and to amuse.

As a parade of eager copycats begins to form, Aldar comes to the sudden realization that his spontaneous act of healing may have set off a chain reaction he's not prepared to handle. He's interrupted, however, as a strong hand clasps him from behind and swiftly hoists him over the counter, away from the approaching mob.

The voice that follows is unmistakably Maero's. “Aldar, you reckless fool! Have you learned nothing from Aethe and Zelena's warnings? Your naive openness could have had you devoured by these voracious women!”

The robust woman from earlier, Sia, clears her throat with a dramatic flair, capturing the room's attention. “Hold on a minute! We may have been enthusiastic, maybe even a little too eager, but we're still human beings with feelings. Your dismissive tone doesn't exactly paint us in a favorable light. So, how about some emotional compensation? A simple kiss from each of you could square things away.”

Unfazed by her audacious proposition, Maero retorts with cool detachment, “Sia, let's be clear: neither Aldar nor I am in the market for dispensing physical affection. If it's intimacy you're craving, perhaps professional services would be more suited to your needs.”

Sia, bursts into laughter at Maero's curt dismissal, rallying her companions as she declares, "Well, no harm in trying, right?" Their collective laughter rings through the air, a stark contrast to the simmering resentment emanating from the disgruntled copycats. These opportunists had hoped to seize a moment of intimate healing, and now fume at their lost chance.

Recognizing the escalating tension, Maero turns to Aldar with a sincere proposal. “Aldar, how about you clear this queue with Harmony's Requiem? I remember you being quite proficient with it. After that, let's head inside and catch up for old times' sake.”

“Sure, Maero,” Aldar readily agrees.

Harmony's Requiem: "In the shared names of Xetone, god of life and death, and Xalena, god of love and hate, I call upon the intertwining of your divine essences. Bring forth the convergence of life's restoration and love's relief, let this sanctuary of solace spread. I, [Aldar], under your shared authority, invoke a healing harmony to wash over us, repairing flesh, mending spirit, and cleansing heart. By life's resilience and love's embrace, let wellness ripple across this place.

As Aldar chants the final incantation of Harmony's Requiem, a palpable wave of restorative energy cascades over the adventurers in the guild hall. Yet, instead of the expected gratitude, a palpable aura of disappointment fills the room. Puzzled by the collective sadness in the wake of his benevolent act, Aldar shoots Maero an inquisitive glance.

Chuckling at his friend's perplexity, Maero enlightens him. “You see, Aldar, these women would willingly endure hours of discomfort just for the fleeting thrill of our touch as we heal them. By blanketing them all with your spell, you've effectively robbed them of that coveted experience. Shall we escape to the staff room before the atmosphere turns any more awkward?”

Before he follows Maero, Aldar addresses the visibly discontented crowd, “My apologies, ladies. I didn't mean to diminish the value of your patience or sacrifice. How about this for consolation: the woman who comes up with the wittiest pick-up line when I exit the staff room earns herself a kiss on the cheek.”

His lighthearted proposition instantly sends the room into a frenzy of whispered exchanges and competitive banter. Aldar can't help but chuckle at the preposterousness of it all. Shaking his head in amused disbelief, he pivots and follows Maero into the sanctuary of the staff room.

———