The sun was overhead, The line of carriages stretched forward, drivers wiping their brows with soaked rags. On either side of the road, low stone walls marked the boundary between the path and the fields.
Dilek and Kelid had walked for ten minutes before Kelid stopped, panting.
"Wait... I need to rest, please," she said, breathless.
Dilek glanced at her, then looked around for a place to sit. His eyes landed on the short walls beside the road. He led her there, placing his palm on the stone first—only to flinch back immediately. The wall was immensely hot.
Kelid, unaware, was about to sit down when Dilek pulled her toward him.
"No, no, no—it's hot!"
Kelid blinked in surprise at the sudden pull.
"It's really hot," Dilek said, shaking his hand. "And I don't think the cooling stones will save our asses from getting burnt up."
He looked around and spotted the driver of a nearby carriage—a middle-aged man wearing a wide-brimmed hat, lazily fanning himself.
"Hey, dude, can we have a seat for a while?" Dilek asked.
The man glanced at them, half-smiling. "I would love to, but there are merchants in this carriage. If they see you, they might throw a fit."
"Oh... well, no worries," Dilek said with a shrug.
Kelid looked exhausted. Dilek sighed, unsure what to do. Then he tugged off his shirt and released her hand.
Kelid blinked, confused. "What are you doing??"
His body wasn't sweating much; the lingering coolness from her cooling stone had kept his temperature down. He folded his shirt neatly and placed it over the wall.
"Have a seat. That won't burn," he said.
She stared at him, surprised, glancing from the shirt to his face. "It's okay, I can sit on the wall."
She reached out to test it—only to flinch back instantly as she felt the heat on her fingertips.
She looked at him again, then reluctantly sat down on his folded shirt. Her face was a little red.
Dilek stood beside her, sweat slowly forming on his forehead as the sun bore down.
Kelid rested, her gaze drifting toward him. His body wasn't exactly impressive—hairless, lean, and lacking muscle—but she noticed the sweat glistening on his skin as he stood there, eyes distant.
She reached out and took his hand. The coolness from her touch spread through him like a wave. Dilek blinked, glancing at her. She was looking down, her fingers tightening slightly.
'Why... why is it embarrassing...' she thought.
Kelid had never held a boy's hand like this—especially not out of her own choice. Usually, it was boys eager to touch her. Now, she was the one doing it, and the thought made her cheeks warm. Still, guilt filled up in her chest as she saw him sweat under the sun.
Dilek looked at her, faint red coloring his face as he turned away, pretending to focus on the horizon.
Neither of them spoke.
'Shit... never in my life have I held a girl's hand...' Dilek thought. 'In the carriage back there, I was holding it but didn't notice. Her hands are really... sof—no, wait, they're rough?'
He looked at her hand, curiosity flickering. As he rubbed his thumb along her palm, she flinched.
'Rough... as if she worked a lot.'
Kelid quickly pulled her hand back. "What are you doing!"
Dilek straightened, startled. "Well, I was surprised. You have rough hands... I was expecting soft."
She frowned. "So what? You dislike it? Will it change something?"
Her tone sharpened slightly.
"No, no, wait—you misunderstood," Dilek said quickly. "I was surprised because I thought you work out a lot."
"Work out?" she repeated, confused.
"Well, you see, people who go to the gym have rough hands... Well—again, you don't know what a gym is..." He scratched his head awkwardly. "Anyway, I really like rough hands, since that means they aren't pampered and know how to live."
She stared at him for a moment, then exhaled softly. "You are weird."
"I am," he said with a small smile. "Always have been, Should we go?"
Kelid looked down. "Just a little more..."
He nodded. "Oh sure."
Dilek sat next to her on the wall.
She glanced sideways. "Isn't it hot?"
"Not really. At least not for me..." he said aloud, though inside, he thought, 'It's hot... shit, I wanna cry... why am I trying to look cool anyway?'
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint creaking of carriage wheels and the sounds of horses.
Dilek considered reaching for her hand again as the heat pricked at his skin—but when he saw her gazing up at the sky, lost in thought, he stopped himself. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he clenched his hands on his knees instead.
—
The heat hadn't softened, The faint sound of horse snorts were heard
After a couple of minutes of rest, the two had started walking ahead again. The stones beneath their feet were kind of felt like a sting through the shoes.
Kelid broke the silence. "How come you are even going this far?"
Dilek glanced at her, "Well, my friends feel hot... and it's taking quite long for the traffic to move on. There are people who have to ride the carts in such heat and what not? Why shouldn't I try to help?"
Kelid frowned slightly, her tone puzzled. "You know... even if you don't do anything, it will be fixed if we ignore it..."
He looked at her, then turned forward again, watching the line of wagons ahead. "Oh... you are right. I mean, someone will eventually fix it."
She nodded. "Exactly, so you don—"
"But I think that if we waited for someone to eventually fix it, we might have to wait an eternity."
Kelid blinked, confused. The sun reflected horse bridles as Dilek reached out, patting one of the horses' necks as they passed. The animal flicked its ear, snorting softly.
"What makes you think others don't think like that?" he continued. "I'm sure everyone does that—hopes someone will eventually fix it."
The place felt like a oven, If it weren't for their cooling stones they would be having a heatstroke.
"I mean..." Dilek muttered under his breath, "I did too..."
She tilted her head. "Sorry? Can you repeat that?"
Dilek glanced over. "I said—what if there is no one to fix it? What if everyone is just waiting for someone? Eventually people will forget what they were waiting for... what they wanted someone to fix. By that time, it'll be too late, since no one will remember it. Neither can someone come to help if no one knows what the issue was."
Kelid looked at him quietly. Something about his back—his posture as he held her hand and guided her forward—felt distant.
He seemed... lonely.
He kept walking. "So if we are aware... even if no one else is, let's do it ourselves. So that others can be relieved that someone else fixed it."
The sky was bright blue, despite the heat.
"I mean..." Dilek turned back as something in his expression shifted. "It was pretty late for me... because—"
Something blanked out for a second within Kelid. Her vision wavered slightly as Dilek's voice broke through.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.
She nodded a little. Despite the cooling stone in her hand, Dilek's hand suddenly felt colder than before.
She looked at him—his short hairs sticking slightly to his forehead, sweat trickled down her back despite the chill from her stone.
"It was late?" she murmured.
Dilek looked at her, confused. "Oh, I mean—yeah. But I did realise it and just fixed it myself. That's what I meant—fix things before anyone does it for you."
She studied him for a moment. He seemed normal again.
He sighed softly. "Youngins don't know how to struggle these days, Kelid. Everyone wants someone to fix stuff."
His tone carried a quiet weight, something older than his age. Kelid watched his back as he led her ahead.
It seemed... lonely.
—
"IF YOU DON'T HEAL US, WE WON'T MOVE! WE WON'T MOVE! WE WON'T MOVE!"
The chants echoed down the road. Around fifty to sixty people sat in the middle of it, blocking every inch of space, the stones beneath them were hot enough to burn skin if they sat for too long, yet none of them budged.
Dilek stood there, confused. Even Kelid looked lost. Dozens of carriages stood halted, the horses restless and stamping against the dust. The protestors wore ragged, faded clothes—some shirtless, others covered in sweat-stained rags.
Men, women, even a few children—each one looked poor and desperate.
Kelid noticed a guard standing near the front, his expression troubled. She walked up to him, dragging Dilek along.
"What's going on here?" she asked.
The guard exhaled sharply. "Well, these guys are protesting..."
"Protesting?" Dilek asked. "For what?"
The man adjusted his helmet. "They say they want the churches to heal them. They've worshipped for so long, yet no one heals them..."
Kelid frowned. "But why here? Why on this road? Under this heat?"
"Haven't you heard the rumor?" the guard replied. "The archbishop of the Liora Church is going to Porustu for the upcoming festival."
Kelid muttered under her breath, "That's where we're going..."
The guard continued. "So yeah, they want the archbishop to heal them right now—since apparently, a lot of them are wounded."
"Wounded?" Dilek turned to look. Several of the people had bandaged arms or legs, though the wrappings were filthy and darkened with dried blood.
"So why can't the church just do that?" he asked.
The guard blinked, surprised, while Kelid sighed. "Dilek... the churches have a high pay for healing. It's not free—it's hard to do as well."
"Wha..." Dilek froze, staring blankly. 'Dude... shouldn't healing be free?'
A man in the crowd suddenly shouted, voice cracking with anger.
"I BELIEVED IN SO MANY RELIGIONS AND NONE OF THEM HELPED ME! I WON'T MOVE TODAY! TODAY I'M ABANDONING ALL FAITH IF I DON'T GET HEALED! BECAUSE EVEN IF ONE OF THE GODS YOU TELL US TO WORSHIP—IF EVEN ONE OF THEM CAN HELP US—THEN TELL THEM TO HELP US! COME ON! WE ARE DYING HERE!"
The people roared in agreement, some slamming their fists to the ground. Dilek looked at them—each one desperate, sunburned, hopeless. They wouldn't be here unless they truly had nowhere else to turn.
The guard rubbed his forehead. "All the rich folks didn't bring enough guards, and the archbishop's guards—or him—haven't moved one bit in the back. So we're just waiting for reinforcements from Phermola to clear them out. It'll take a couple hours, though."
Kelid sighed. Before she could say more, she noticed Dilek letting go of her hand.
"Huh? Dilek?"
He smiled faintly, his eyes lighting with a strange thought. 'Am I lucky today?' 'This is perfect... The churches are corrupt here? My main quest can get completed easily if it's just Orynneya and not Warduica.'
Dilek stepped forward, weaving through the crowd. The people glared, some sneering.
"Get out of here, filthy noble! We aren't moving until the archbishop sends people to help us!"
"Why are you doing this?" Dilek asked softly.
A woman stood up, glaring at him. "Are you deaf? We said because we aren't being loved by the so-called gods people say will help us! Scram!"
Dilek smiled faintly, trying to suppress his excitement. But stopped when he noticed her hand—it was cut badly, barely healed through dried blood.
He reached out and gently took her hand. She jerked back, startled.
"What are you doing, pervert?"
Dilek ignored her words and covered her wound with his hand.
Skill: Painful Healer (activated)
The woman screamed. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The people around them panicked instantly. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"
Several men grabbed Dilek by the shoulders, ready to strike him down, but he just smiled.
"But I helped her," he said.
"Oh yeah? I'll help you!" one man shouted, raising his fist as Kelid almost rushed to save him—
"Wait!" a voice called out.
The crowd froze.
Everyone turned to the woman who had screamed. She was staring at her hand, her eyes wide. The wound was gone—completely gone, like it had never existed.
The men holding Dilek loosened their grip. Others leaned closer, whispering.
"What happened?"
"Is it real?"
"Let me see!"
"I... I don't know," the woman stammered, trembling.
Dilek stepped closer, gently taking her hands again. She flinched but didn't resist this time.
"You were healed," Dilek said softly, "by the goddess Yaguya's will."
"Goddess... Yaguya?"
Murmurs broke out among the crowd.
"Who is that?"
"I've never heard of it."
"Is it from another country?"
Dilek straightened, speaking a little louder. "She is someone who is watching over you. She has given me—me—the mission to help people."
They looked skeptical. One man shouted, "Oh yeah? Sure! Now tell us how much to pay!"
Dilek smiled. "The goddess doesn't require payment."
"Cut the crap!" another shouted. "You're going to ask us to worship your so-called goddess and then ask us to pay later! At one point, you will!"
Dilek shook his head firmly. "I swear on my name, as the messenger of the goddess, I will never require any sort of monetary compensation. I've already been doing it for weeks to the people in Portrident. You can ask them."
The murmuring grew heavier. 'Messenger? Not a bishop? Neither a cardinal?' they thought.
He could tell what they were thinking. "It's true," he said. "I've been tasked to save people. Sure, the gods from different faiths exist—but the people who follow them, the ones high in power, they treat it like a tool, to use the underprivileged."
His voice rose, echoing across the road. "But I won't!"
Dilek spread his arms. "May the heavens smite me down if I ever do!"
The crowd broke into scattered whispers again, some amazed, others still doubtful.
The guard standing beside Kelid sighed, glancing at her. "Is that guy sane?"
Kelid shook her head slowly. "I don't know at this point."