Joe turned to Shelly, his voice trembling. "It's not—"

Shelly didn't let him finish. Without a word or a glance in his direction, she pushed forward, fists clenched tightly. She wove through the crowd, her presence cutting through the jeering mob until she reached the front.

The pole bearing John’s lifeless body was mounted atop a square platform. The shopkeeper stood there, smugly orchestrating the grotesque spectacle.

When their eyes met, a faint green glow flickered to life around Shelly’s fists.

"You’re that girl from earlier, aren’t you?" The shopkeeper raised his bloodied palm to quiet the crowd. The mob obeyed, their stones falling silent.

Shelly didn’t answer. She climbed onto the platform, her glowing fists growing brighter with every step.

"This couldn’t have happened without you," the shopkeeper said, his tone sickeningly casual. He offered her a bloodstained stone. "Here, take this. Help us make an example of this—"

CRACK.

Before he could finish, Shelly’s glowing fist slammed into his face, the barrier around it amplifying the blow. The impact shattered his nose and sent him flying backward into the pole. The force of the collision bent the pole slightly, making John’s lifeless body sway even more.

[You Have Activated The 'Barrier Skill' (Green Fist)]

The shopkeeper groaned, clutching his shattered shoulder as blood poured down his face. "Do you have any idea who you’re messing wi—"

CRUNCH.

Shelly’s fist struck him again, cutting off his words. He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide with terror. Blood blurred his vision, but he could still see her face. Shelly’s gaze was cold, unyielding—unlike anything he had ever faced. For the first time in his life, he was afraid.

Shelly knelt beside him, fists glowing brighter. A flurry of punches followed, each one more brutal than the last. The shopkeeper’s cries of pain were drowned out by the sickening sound of bone and flesh breaking under her relentless assault. Within seconds, his screams ceased.

What remained was a bloodied, unrecognizable mess. His face was flattened, teeth shattered, and blood oozed from every corner of his battered form.

Shelly stood, her blood-splattered face expressionless as the glow around her fists dissipated.

"Is she insane?"

"Does she know what she’s done?"

"The Frozen Wing Party will come for her now!"

"She’s dead for sure."

The crowd whispered frantically, their voices growing louder.

Shelly silenced them with a single sharp glare. She pointed to four men in the front row. "You four. Bring down that boy’s body. Now."

The men exchanged nervous glances before scrambling to obey, rushing to lower the pole and free John’s body.

Shelly turned back to the rest of the crowd. Grabbing the shopkeeper’s limp form by his bloodied shirt, she hurled him into the mob with one hand.

"The rest of you," she snarled, her voice ice-cold, "take this piece of trash and get out of my sight!"

The crowd scattered, dragging the shopkeeper’s motionless body with them. In seconds, the square was empty, the once-deafening jeers replaced by an eerie silence.

The four men carefully lowered the pole, gently laying John’s lifeless body on the ground. With one final, cold glance from Shelly, they scurried away, leaving her alone with John's body.

The memory of John’s terrified eyes as he was dragged away was seared into Shelly's mind. His screams, desperate and raw, echoed relentlessly in her head.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, dripping onto John’s still form. Shelly fell to her knees, covering her face with trembling hands. Her muffled cries filled the air, her shoulders shaking as the weight of guilt and sorrow overtook her. The cold, steely facade she had worn moments ago shattered completely, revealing the broken girl beneath.

"I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry," she whispered through her sobs, repeating the phrase like a mantra. Slowly, her cries subsided, her breaths growing steadier. She scrubbed the tears from her face and rose to her feet, her resolve hardening once again.

Pressing her hands together in prayer, she closed her eyes.

[You Have Activated The 'Healing Skill' (Decomposition)]

A green veil of light surrounded John’s body. Slowly, his form dissolved into shimmering green mana, dissipating into the air. In his place, a delicate flower began to bloom, its vibrant color radiant against the earth. The small patch of grass surrounding it glowed faintly, a peaceful beauty.

"May the Soul King be with you," Shelly murmured, her voice steady but heavy with emotion.

She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs before turning away from the flower. As she stepped off the platform, the patch of green grass and the solitary flower stood as a silent memorial.

Joe had been watching silently the entire time. As she approached, he opened his mouth to speak, but Shelly’s voice cut through the stillness first.

"Let’s kill him. Let’s kill that bastard Mikey!" she said coldly, her voice sharp with determination.

Joe froze, startled by the icy fury in her tone. He had never seen this look in her eyes before—eyes that were once warm and comforting now burned with a chilling resolve.

"You’ve got it," he said simply, his own eyes hardening with conviction.

Before they could move, a voice called out. From the direction of the Meat Is Money store, the girl Joe had saved earlier appeared. She stepped forward hesitantly, her eyes shining with determination despite her frail form.

"If you’re looking for Mikey, I can help!" she offered confidently. "You stood up for me—it’s the least I can do." She coughed painfully, bowing her head as she spoke.

Joe regarded her kindly. "What’s your name, kid?"

"It’s... Number 2," she replied, her voice small.

Joe’s expression softened. "No, I’m asking for your real name. You don’t have to go by those numbers anymore. Red is gone."

The girl hesitated, her gaze lowering. Finally, she whispered, "It’s Viola."

Joe smiled warmly. "It’s nice to meet you, Viola."

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she straightened her posture. "There’s another reason I want to go with you. I need your help finding my brother. I’m afraid he may be in trouble."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Without hesitation, Joe and Shelly both nodded. Viola’s smile grew, and she gestured for them to follow.

She led them through the labyrinthine streets of Perina, the route winding and filled with sharp turns. The path grew darker and more decrepit as they neared their destination. Finally, they stopped in front of a set of flimsy wooden gates.

"This is it," Viola said grimly. "This is where Mikey is hiding. We call it The Trash Can."

True to its name, the place was a wasteland. Beyond the gates lay endless piles of trash—rotting food, scraps of paper, and other discarded refuse. The stench was overwhelming, making Joe wince. The mountains of garbage stretched high, and atop them sat children, their silhouettes barely visible.

As soon as Viola, Joe, and Shelly stepped inside, the children moved. Sliding down the piles of trash like predators descending on prey, they rushed toward the group. There were at least twenty of them, boys ranging in age from as young as eight to their mid-teens.

Their thin, shirtless bodies were caked in grime, their brown, tattered shorts barely clinging to their malnourished frames. Dark ink smeared their faces, giving them a ghostly, unsettling appearance. Each boy clutched a makeshift weapon—metal poles and rusty tools—as they stalked closer, their eyes locked on Joe and Shelly.

"Why did you bring strangers here, Number 2?" a boy demanded, his grip tightening on the metal pole in his hands. His voice was harsh.

"These guys are good! They said they’ll help take down Mikey!" Viola pleaded, her voice shaky but resolute.

"Take down Mikey?" The boy was surprised to hear those words. "Do you really believe such a thing is possible?"

Viola flinched at his tone but forced herself to respond. "We at least have to try. We can’t keep living like this—it’s..."

"Speak for yourself," the boy snapped, cutting her off. He looked around, clearly trying to summon courage from the others. "You know what Mikey does to traitors. If you’ve really betrayed him..." He hesitated before finishing, "we’ll have to take you down as well."

The boys surrounding them tried to appear menacing, gripping their makeshift weapons tightly. But their trembling hands and darting eyes revealed their hesitation. They were just children, afraid and unsure of their own actions.

[Sub-Quest.]

• Objective: Slay The 20 Native Children.

• Reward: 5,000 Rank Points.

• Progress: 0/20 Native Children Slain.

Joe stiffened as the sudden notification from Syr flashed before his eyes. His blood ran cold.

"Are you insane?" he hissed through the mental link. "You expect me to kill children?"

[Why Not? You Had No Trouble Killing Those Two Natives Earlier. You Even Killed Baby Wolfins In The Black Forest. I Don’t See The Issue. Besides, These Children Are Natives—They Weren’t Born On Earth. You Have No Connection To Them And Won’t Be Punished For Killing Them. Instead, You’ll Be Rewarded. These Native Children Are An Obstacle, Something You Need To Overcome On Your Path To Becoming Stronger..]

Joe’s jaw clenched as he glared at the trembling boys. "Look at them! They don’t even want to do this—they’re shaking. This isn’t the same as the Wolfins or those bastards from earlier. Those were beasts and heartless monsters. These are just kids. I don’t kill kids, Syr."

[You’re Rejecting 5,000 Free Rank Points? Do You Even Want To Get Stronger?]

Joe’s frustration boiled over. "What’s your obsession with strength? There’s plenty of time to grow, and there are other ways. We just arrived on this planet—opportunities will come."

[We Don't Have As Much Time As You Think.]

That gave Joe pause. "...What do you mean by that?"

[It Doesn't Matter. We'll Do Things Your Way. For Now]

[Sub-Quest Canceled.]

The notification vanished, leaving Joe uneasy as Syr’s ominous words lingered in his mind. He didn’t have time to dwell on them, though. The boys charged.

"I’ll handle this," Joe said, stepping forward calmly. He moved like a blur, dodging their attacks and delivering precise neck chops to each boy. One by one, they crumpled to the ground, unconscious but unharmed.

Shelly watched him work, her lips tight. "Let’s keep moving. We’ll come back for them later," Joe said firmly. Viola nodded and led the way.

The path led them to a decrepit building made of crumbling bricks. Though it was sturdier than the wooden shacks nearby, its two stories sagged with disrepair.

"This is it," Viola said, her voice low. "This is the Big Junk. Mikey’s definitely inside."

Joe and Shelly exchanged a glance and nodded. Together, they pushed open the creaking door, dust billowing into the air. All three coughed, but Viola’s fit lingered, her frailty evident.

The entrance led to a dim hallway with two routes, one branching left and the other right. Both paths ended in staircases leading upward.

"I’ll need one of you to help me check on my brother," Viola said, her voice small.

"Shelly, go with her," Joe decided.

"What about Mikey?" Shelly asked, her brow furrowed.

"Both routes will lead to Mikey," Viola explained. "But my brother’s on the right. That’s where I need to go. There are other children on the left, though, and they need help, too."

Joe nodded decisively. "Then it’s settled. I’ll take the left. You two go right."

With a shared look of understanding, the group split, each heading into the unknown.

Shelly and Viola ascended the creaking stairs on the right side of the house. When they reached the top, they froze at the horrifying sight before them.

Children were locked in cages lining both sides of the hallway. Their conditions were harrowing: some were missing limbs, others were heavily wounded, and a few were coughing uncontrollably, their frail bodies barely holding on. The stench of blood was thick in the air, and the walls of the cages were streaked with it. The path down the center was clear, leading to a large red door with a crude wooden sign hanging on it: "Big Daddy Mikey."

Standing in the middle of the hallway was a woman clad in a pristine black dress, a matching pointy hat atop her head. Her immaculate appearance contrasted grotesquely with the battered, ragged children around her. A bloodied body dragged limply behind her as she turned to face them.

"What are you doing here, Viola?" the woman sneered, using her real name. Her cold eyes flicked to Shelly. "And who’s the green-haired one with you?"

"I’m here to see my brother!" Viola shot back, her voice trembling.

The woman’s lips curled into a mocking grin. "Oh, you mean this thing?" She yanked the limp body she was dragging into view, revealing a beaten, barely recognizable boy.

"Ed!" Viola cried, rushing forward, her voice cracking.

Shelly’s brow furrowed at the name. It struck a chord, stirring a memory. Then it hit her—Ed was one of the boys she had been chasing earlier. She had barely caught the name during the chaotic pursuit.

"This brother of yours," the woman said, her voice dripping with venom, "left John behind. My trusted supplier. John was a good kid—always did what he was told. And now I hear he’s dead." She spat the words before tossing Ed’s battered body toward Viola like a ragdoll. Viola knelt beside him, her trembling hands checking his wounds.

Shelly’s fists clenched as she stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What are you doing to these kids?"

The woman tilted her head, a sickly smile stretching across her scratched-up face. "Isn’t it obvious? I’m their healer. All these children here are my patients. I heal them so they can keep serving Mikey, no matter how beaten up they get."

Her words were casual, as though she was discussing the weather. The depravity of it made Shelly’s stomach churn.

"So you heal them and force them to do your dirty work, regardless of how much they’re hurt?" Shelly’s voice was ice-cold, her gaze unwavering.

"Exactly," the woman said, smirking. "Isn’t that what a healer’s supposed to do? I keep them alive, keep them moving, until their bodies finally give out. That’s a healer’s job."

Shelly’s eyes narrowed, her voice a sharp retort. "A healer’s job is to preserve lives and prevent harm in the first place. What you’re doing is wrong."

The woman let out a laugh, her smirk deepening. "Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it, girl?"

Shelly stepped forward, her hands glowing faintly with the familiar green light of her barrier skill [Green Fist]. Her voice was steady and full of resolve.

"I’m gonna kick your ass."

[Left Side Of The 'Big Junk']

Joe reached the top of the stairs and was immediately struck by the stench of rot and decay. It smelled like corpses, and the oppressive air hung heavy. His eyes scanned the room, and he saw the cages lining the walls. Inside, a few children sat slumped in silence, their frail bodies bloodied and bruised. Most didn’t even lift their heads to acknowledge his presence. The floors around them were smeared with dried blood, the scene painted in hopelessness and despair.

At the center of the room stood a man, casually holding a piece of meat on a stick. He turned as Joe entered, his face twisting into a smug smile.

"So, you're the brat Red tried to warn us about," the man said, his voice oozing with condescension. "When I got his signal, I thought his Mana Stone might've broken by mistake. But it seems that’s not the case."

Joe took in the man’s appearance—a stark contrast to the wretched surroundings. He wore a pristine black suit, paired with a crisp shirt and a black tie. His polished leather shoes gleamed in the dim light. Everything about him screamed arrogance and power.

"You’ve got nerve showing yourself in front of me, kid," the man sneered, taking a bite from the meat on his stick.

Joe’s eyes flicked past him, locking onto a door at the back of the room. It bore the same crude sign as the one Shelly and Viola had encountered: "Big Daddy Mikey." The sight of it only fueled his rage.

"I don’t know what you’ve done to these kids," Joe said, his voice trembling with anger, "but I’m going to make you pay, you asshole!"

The man let out a low chuckle, "I’d like to see you try, kid."