Chapter 104: A Man, Not a God

Chapter 104: Chapter 104: A Man, Not a God

The streets of Valemont felt completely different, and Felix noticed it right away.

He had walked these roads hundreds of times. Usually, they were noisy and full of life: kids running between shops, food sellers shouting over each other, and crowds cheering for heroes returning from successful raids.

Today, people still moved about, but the energy was gone. Everyone walked in near silence.

Several stores had turned their TV screens toward the sidewalks, playing news reports on loop. Outside many doors, people had lit small memorial candles, and pictures of fallen heroes sat framed in storefront windows.

Thousands had died around the world. The entire city felt the heavy grief in the air.

Felix walked with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, keeping his head down. He passed a small group of teenagers standing around a news broadcast. Nobody spoke; one boy wore an old oversized hero jacket, and another held a photograph tight against his chest. Felix didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

That same heavy sadness had been following him around for days.

He had saved hundreds of lives. Yet many had still died, and that terrible number kept spinning in his head no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Looking for a distraction, he stepped into a local grocery store. The glass doors chimed softly. Inside, the aisles were quiet.

He picked up a hand basket and walked over to the fresh produce: tomatoes, potatoes, green vegetables, and some apples. Simple, normal things.

He picked up a red tomato and squeezed it gently. "Too squishy." He put it back and picked up another. "Way too expensive." He frowned at the price tag, even though he had more money in the bank than he could ever spend.

"That’s because farmers can’t grow vegetables out of magic cores," a voice said beside him.

Felix turned. An elderly man stood a couple of steps away. He looked to be in his eighties, with thin white hair, a stooped back, and a wire basket in his hand. Standing next to him was a young boy around ten years old, holding tightly to the old man’s coat.

The old man’s eyes went wide. He blinked, staring at Felix’s face in disbelief, before taking a slow step forward.

"...You’re Mr. Felix, aren’t you?"

Felix turned to face him fully and offered a polite nod. "Yes, sir."

"Is there something I can help you with?" Felix asked, his voice softening.

The old man’s chin began to tremble. Without warning, he reached out, grabbed Felix’s hand with both of his wrinkled palms, and bowed his head so low his forehead rested right against Felix’s knuckles.

Felix went rigid. "Sir? Please, stand up."

"Thank you," the old man choked out, his voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you so much, Mr. Felix."

Felix gently tried to pull his hand back. "You really don’t have to do that—"

"My son," the old man said, looking up with tears in his eyes. "He’s a B-rank hero. He’s the only one in our house who can work and earn a living." He wiped his wet cheek.

"When the news came that he was crushed in the raid, the hospital told us he’d lost both of his hands. My wife fainted on the spot. I thought..."

He swallowed hard. "I thought our family was ruined."

Felix lowered his gaze, not knowing what to say.

"But you healed him." The old man squeezed Felix’s hand tighter. "You saved his life. You grew his hands back." A tearful smile broke across his face. "You saved our entire family, sir."

Felix stood there, feeling awkward. The old man reached into his coat pocket. "Please, tell me what I can give you. Money, food, anything at all. I have to repay you somehow."

Felix gently shook his head. "You don’t owe me a single thing."

"Please, let me—"

"It’s just my job," Felix said with a small, tired smile. "I’m a healer. Saving hurt people is what I signed up for."

The old man stared at him. Felix’s smile faded a bit, and he looked down at the floor. "And honestly... I wasn’t able to save everyone. A lot of people died that day."

The words slipped out quieter than he meant.

The old man stopped. He didn’t look angry; he just looked puzzled, like Felix had said something completely strange.

"Son," the old man said softly, letting go of his hand.

Felix looked back up.

"My family doesn’t know much about fancy awakeners," the old man said, looking straight into his eyes. "My boy was the first in our family to ever get magic. Before him, we didn’t know a thing about ranks, mana, or monsters. But an old man like me knows one simple truth: no one can save everyone."

Those simple words hit Felix like a shockwave.

"If you were there and saved my boy, I would be grateful for the rest of my life," the old man continued gently. "And if you couldn’t make it in time..."

His voice dropped a little. "I would have cried my eyes out. My family would have suffered. Life would have gotten very hard." He gave a tired shrug. "But that would have just been our bad luck. That would have been life."

He reached out and placed a warm, weathered hand on Felix’s shoulder. "If you could save everyone, son, you wouldn’t be human anymore. You’d be a god."

He gave Felix’s shoulder an affectionate pat.

"But you aren’t a god. You’re just a man who was given the gift to heal, and you used it to save an awful lot of people."

Felix just stared at him. The supermarket around them seemed to fade into background noise, the hum of the freezers, carts rolling by, distant shoppers talking.

"So don’t beat yourself up for failing to do something that no human being could ever do," the old man finished.

Felix opened his mouth, but before he could find any words, the little boy stepped out from behind his grandfather, puffing out his chest with his fists balled tight.

"I’m going to be a hero too!" the boy declared loudly.

Felix looked down at him.

"I’m going to save people just like Mr. Felix does!"

The grandfather let out a warm laugh. "Can you believe that? This boy hated heroes until yesterday."

The boy’s face turned bright red.

"He hated seeing his father come home covered in bandages," the old man explained, smiling at Felix. "Every time his dad left for a gate, this kid would complain that heroes were reckless and foolish."

"Grandpa!" the boy whined, embarrassed.

"Then he heard what happened at the medical center," the old man said, resting his hand on the boy’s messy hair. "He heard how you saved hundreds of injured fighters, and found out his own dad was walking because of you. It’s the first time in his life he ever said he wanted to be a hero."

Felix looked at the boy, who grinned back up at him with pure admiration.

"You’re his hero now, Mr. Felix."

Felix didn’t reply right away.

Inside his chest, that heavy, suffocating knot suddenly snapped. It felt like a rusty lock had finally clicked open.

I can’t save everyone.

Hearing it out loud made his guilt feel completely ridiculous. Of course he couldn’t save everyone. Why had he put that impossible weight on his own shoulders? He was a healer: a very powerful one, maybe even one of the best alive but at the end of the day, he was still just a guy.

I was never supposed to be a god.

Felix’s tense shoulders dropped. The dark cloud that had followed him for days finally disappeared.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head at himself. "Man, I really am an idiot."

"Sir?" The old man blinked, confused.

Felix smiled: a genuine, lighthearted smile.

"Thank you, sir. Seriously. Thank you."

He placed his hand over the old man’s wrinkled fingers. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"Then I’m glad I spoke up, son."

Felix knelt down to eye level with the little boy.

"And thank you too, little guy."

The boy’s eyes lit up like stars. "Me?!"

"Yeah, you." Felix ruffled his hair. "Hold on to that dream, okay?"

The boy nodded so hard his hair bounced. "I will!"

"Good man." Felix stood back up.

The grandfather suddenly reached back into his shopping basket. "Wait, Mr. Felix, at least let me buy your—"

"Nope." Felix held up a hand, laughing. "You’ve already given me more than enough today. Put your wallet away."

The old man smiled softly and nodded. "Take care of yourself out there, son."

"I will. See you around, future hero," Felix said, waving at the kid.

"Bye, Mr. Felix!"

Felix walked back down the aisle. He glanced back over his shoulder once to see the boy still waving frantically. Felix waved back, turned to the vegetable bins, and picked up a fresh tomato.

He checked it over. "Firm. Red. Perfect."

For the first time in days, Felix smiled without forcing it.

---

By the time he got back to his apartment, the sun had fully set and the streetlights were on.

He put his groceries into the fridge, cooked a quick, hot meal, and sat down on the sofa with his plate to watch the news.

On the screen, the anchorwoman looked dead serious.

"Good evening," she began. Behind her, images flashed across the broadcast: dead monsters, broken dungeon walls, glowing cores, and hospital rooms packed with bandaged heroes.

Then the screen switched to show clear evidence photos: strange red pills, tiny glass bottles of potion, and metallic syringes.

Felix stopped chewing. He set his plate on the coffee table.

"Investigators looking into the recent worldwide gate disasters have found a dangerous link,"

the reporter announced. "Research teams from the Continental Association have confirmed that the monsters causing these sudden rank spikes were artificially enhanced. Multiple methods were used, including booster pills, strange potions, and direct injections."

Felix’s eyes narrowed. The screen showed several different samples lined up side by side.

"While the items found in different regions looked different on the outside, scientists have confirmed they all share the exact same chemical formula."

Felix leaned back against the cushions. So it really wasn’t an accident.

"The same formula was found in monster remains across several continents," the anchor continued. "The sheer size of this operation leads investigators to believe an organized group is behind this. Because these boosters were only used inside active dungeons, experts suspect the makers may come from the other side of the rifts."

A global map popped up on screen, with red warning dots blinking across multiple countries.

"The Continental Association has labeled this a global threat," the anchor said firmly. "Our research labs are working around the clock to break down the formula, find out where it came from, and create a cure. Until further notice, all citizens are warned to stay away from unapproved gates and report any strange monster behavior to local authorities immediately."

The news moved on to local traffic, but Felix stayed glued to the screen.

And right now, a much bigger question hung in the air:

Who is making these pills?

Felix stared at the dark TV screen, his eyes sharp. Someone was creating these substances on purpose, poisoning dungeons, and turning monsters into weapons.

The Association was finally onto them.

Felix picked his fork back up and took another bite of his dinner. Now he didn’t feel overwhelmed. Instead, he felt ready.

Whoever was hiding on the other side of those gates had started a war.

---