"Since the host wants to learn new magic," the orange cat said, tail flicking with smug confidence, "we'll start by testing your elental affinity, ow."
Xien's eyes lit up instantly, like a buried gene had been triggered.
"Elental affinity?" He leaned forward. "Oh—so we're doing that kind of system test. I'm in."
"Correct, ow. Mana is one of the most famous fantasy energies. Different users tend to have different attribute preferences," the orange cat explained. "For example, the beginner fire spell you awakened earlier strongly suggests you lean toward fire affinity, ow."
"So learning spells of matching attributes gives better results?"
"Exactly, ow. You'll learn faster, and your mana utilization efficiency will improve as well."
The orange cat kneaded the air with its paws—serious business, apparently.
"Alright. Let's do it."
"Fifty interference points," it said promptly. "One mana affinity test crystal ball, ow."
Starlight shimred.
A massive crystal sphere—about twenty centiters in diater—appeared in Xien's arms with a heavy thunk.
It wasn't just a decorative orb. It had weight, the kind of weight that said this is basically a stone ball pretending to be crystal.
As Xien lifted it to inspect, the orange cat gave instructions.
"Inject mana into the sphere. It will display your attribute colors, ow."
"Got it."
Xien placed his hand on the surface and fed a thread of mana into it.
The response was imdiate—smooth and sensitive, like premium craftsmanship. The once-transparent sphere blood with swirling colors, then stabilized after a few seconds.
In the end, three colors filled the orb evenly:
Red. Green. And… silver.
The orange cat blinked.
"Hm. Slightly unexpected, ow. Fire and nature were predictable based on your performance, but… you also have spatial affinity?"
Xien's eyebrows shot up.
"Space? That sounds ridiculously cool."
He'd read enough stories to know what "space attribute" usually ant: the kind of power people used to bully physics.
"It is rare, ow," the orange cat confird, voice turning thoughtful. "This kind of trait may be related to the previous spatial turbulence incident…"
Xien froze.
"…Spatial turbulence?"
So the accident that nearly killed him also left behind a gift?
He exhaled slowly and decided not to overthink it.
"Fine. Now that I know my affinities—what can I learn?"
"Of course, ow. Please look—"
A list popped up in front of him like an invisible shelf being pulled open:
Basic Magic Foundations
Spatial Tricks
Nature's Force
And more—over a dozen titles.
Xien stared until his eyes went slightly unfocused.
"…I still have to self-study?"
"Correct, ow. The world of magic is vast. Direct transfer would overload your brain, ow."
"So it's the 'no instant download' rule." Xien sighed. "Alright. I've read books before. I'll learn."
Two thousand five hundred interference points vanished in a blink—only beginner-to-interdiate basics. If he wanted true high-tier grimoires, a single volu would cost more than this entire bundle.
Training. Dungeon runs for experience. Studying. Healing. Managing a clinic.
His schedule didn't just fill up—
It got crushed into a tight grid.
The Free Clinic
The next morning, a wooden sign appeared outside Astraea Familia's gate.
It listed two short ti windows—one in the morning, one in the afternoon—plus the rest day.
At the top, written plainly:
"Xien's Free Clinic Hours."
This was Xien's solution: protect his ti while honoring his vow.
When the captain and the others heard, they praised him rather than objecting. They only told him to watch his health and not overwork himself.
Xien almost laughed.
If I ever feel tired, it'll take inhuman exercise to get there.
As usual, he finished his morning training first, then headed to the front gate.
And then—
He stopped dead.
From a distance, it looked like a long shadow stretching down the street.
Up close, it was a line—a massive line.
At the front stood a broad-shouldered man in plain clothes. When he spotted Xien, his anxious face snapped into relief and excitent.
"It's Xien… He really ca out…"
"Thank the gods…"
"He didn't lie…"
The crowd stirred like a tide. People stared with different expressions, but the sa core emotion ran through all of them:
Desperation.
And cautious, fragile hope—like they were afraid the miracle would vanish if they blinked too hard.
Xien, strangely, felt calr instead of pressured.
He turned to Ryu, who was standing nearby, and said quietly:
"Sorry to ask, Ryu. Bring a table and a chair."
"O-okay."
She didn't understand why he wasn't treating people imdiately, but she trusted him enough to move without hesitation.
Xien stepped to the gate and smiled faintly at the crowd.
"Good. You know how to line up," he said. "That already makes feel better."
"Wait a bit. When the table and chair arrive, I'll start."
Then his expression sharpened.
"And pass this ssage back: if you're not severely injured, disabled, or suffering sothing difficult—leave."
A murmur rippled through the line.
Xien continued, voice firm, almost cold:
"I only see patients two hours a day. I'm not letting soone lose their one chance because you used it for a cold or a fever."
The man at the front frowned, conflicted.
"But… you said everyone gets one free treatnt…"
Xien nodded.
"I did. One free treatnt. Only one."
"After that, it won't be cheap."
"If you want to waste your most valuable chance on a cough, that's your choice."
Silence.
The front man clenched his jaw, then stepped out of line and left.
One by one, others with intact bodies also stepped away.
Most didn't go far—just stood aside, watching. They wanted to see the miracle with their own eyes.
Xien's harsh tone did what it was ant to do: order tightened, the line beca disciplined, and no one dared start trouble.
A mont later, Ryu returned, shouldering the table and chair like they weighed nothing. Xien set them up, then sat down with the calm posture of soone clocking in at work.
He lifted a hand and beckoned.
"Next."
A young woman missing an arm stepped forward.
Miracles Beco Routine
Green light flared—over and over.
Crippled bodies beca whole.
Curses unraveled.
Poison burned out.
Diseases that had lingered for years simply… stopped existing.
Exactly as he had declared.
People cried openly.
So fell to their knees.
So pressed their foreheads to the ground, whispering thanks in broken, shaking voices.
Xien's face stayed neutral, almost indifferent—but in their eyes he looked gentle, sacred, impossibly kind.
No one complained about his rules anymore.
Instead, they decided the rules were correct.
Of course a miracle should be protected from being wasted.
Anyone who tried to argue was imdiately shouted down by the crowd before Xien even needed to raise his voice.
All he had to do was lift an eyebrow.
The line itself beca his enforcent.
Clocking Out
An hour passed.
The line still stretched on without shrinking.
But Xien stood up the mont his ti was done.
He packed up, ready to leave.
This triggered panic near the front, and a young man blurted out:
"Xien—sir, you're leaving?"
Xien pointed to the sign beside the gate.
"My hours are posted," he said calmly. "I'm off work now."
"If you need treatnt, co back this afternoon. Arrive early."
Then he looked at Ryu.
"Let's go."
"…Okay."
The crowd dispersed obediently—not angry, but grateful.
Their only new plan was simple:
How early do I need to co next ti to make the front of the line?
A Question for Ryu
On the way back, Ryu's expression was tangled—like sothing inside her moral compass was grinding.
Xien didn't wait for her to speak.
"You think I'm being cold?"
"No," Ryu said quickly, then hesitated. "It's just…"
Her sense of justice wanted to argue. But she couldn't.
Xien had kept his promise. And he was trying to ensure the truly desperate weren't pushed aside.
Xien slowed slightly and asked:
"Ryu. What do you think qualifies as a miracle?"
Ryu fell silent.
Xien didn't press her.
"I'll give you ti," he said. "Don't answer until you have the real answer in your heart."
Then he waved away the heaviness.
"Now. Let's go eat."
He wasn't trying to lecture her.
He was guiding her.
Because the world wasn't black and white—it was a refined, complicated gray.
His strictness wasn't cruelty. It was a fence around his kindness.
If he let people exploit it, soone who truly needed salvation might lose their only chance.
Afternoon: The Strongest Arrives
Later that day, Chaldeo appeared at Astraea Familia's entrance again.
Black hooded coat, wrapped tight—trying to hide, while sohow drawing more attention.
The gate guard, Iska, swallowed hard and led him inside.
In Orario, the na "Gluttony" wasn't a rumor.
It was a shadow that made ordinary adventurers tremble.
Iska didn't even think of bringing him to the captain first.
This arrangent existed because of Xien.
So Xien was the one she brought him to.
Xien greeted the big man cheerfully and chatted for a bit.
Then the captain gathered everyone.
The instructor had arrived.
So training began—no speeches, no ceremony.
Chaldeo wasn't wearing armor.
He didn't need it.
In contrast, every mber of Astraea Familia was fully equipped—like they were about to fight a floor boss.
At the captain's command, they charged.
Brave.
Determined.
Desperate to grow stronger.
It didn't matter.
Against absolute power, their will was thin paper.
What followed wasn't a duel.
It was a demonstration of the gap between worlds.
Chaldeo moved like he was playing with children.
No openings. No mistakes. No wasted motion.
A single strike produced heavy injury.
Not because he was vicious—
But because the difference in level, skill, and battle experience was absolute.
The only thing they could truly feel was despair.
And more despair.
But they didn't die.
Because each ti a body broke, green light stitched it back together.
If you translated it into ga terms, it was twelve people performing a "health-bar yo-yo" for an entire afternoon.
Their once-solid teamwork cracked under pressure.
Chaldeo's experience turned their coordination into a joke.
At tis they even blocked each other, tripping, colliding, creating openings for him.
They poured out everything:
Xien's flas and the captain's flas.
Lyla's tools.
Kaguya's techniques.
Every advantage they had.
Chaldeo controlled the rhythm from the first second to the last.
One word captured it:
Judgnt.
A mountain too tall to climb.
A pit too deep to escape.
The longer it went, the stronger the hopelessness beca—because there was no visible victory, no satisfying "progress bar."
And yet—
No one quit.
Even when they were beaten into the ground again and again, even when pain reached its limit, not one of them stopped.
Because two figures remained standing.
Xien.
And the captain.
The captain's voice, hoarse and broken, rose like a fla in the dark:
"We're not here to beat him," she said. "We're here to beat ourselves."
"This is our limit? Is it really?"
"Astraea's justice isn't sothing that breaks this easily."
"So move. Everyone—move!"
Bodies were ruined.
Lungs wheezed like torn bellows.
Muscles shredded.
Organs cracked.
Blood ca up with fragnts that made people's stomachs churn.
And still—
They tried to stand.
Even if it was only to answer that voice.
Even if it was only to take one more step toward sothing beyond themselves.
Green light washed over them.
Wounds closed.
Breaths returned.
And the only word that followed was simple.
"Again."
Again.
Again.
Again—
Until nothing remained to give.
....
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