The path wound downward, and as Arden stepped into the clearing, the dense forest gave way to a bustling scene of life and activity. Mountain View Nature’s Park sprawled before him, a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. Families picnicked under the shade of mango trees, their laughter mingling with the excited shrieks of children chasing each other through manicured gardens. Vendors lined the pathways, their stalls overflowing with vibrant colors – handwoven crafts, exotic fruits, and sizzling street snacks. The air was thick with the aroma of roasting meats, the scent of freshly cut grass, and the lively chatter of the crowd.

Arden stood still, momentarily overwhelmed. This was civilization – loud, chaotic, and utterly different from the tranquil solitude of the forest. "So, this is civilization," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lolo wasn't kidding. It's loud."

He adjusted his satchel and started weaving through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances at his rustic attire. The sharp contrast of his mountain-worn clothes against the bright and tidy scene made him stand out, but he paid little attention. A nearby stall caught his nose and his stomach's attention: skewers of barbecued chicken, their smoky aroma wafting irresistibly towards him.

"Relax, Arden," he muttered to himself, fighting the urge to succumb to the delicious scent. "You've got dried root stew in your bag. Who needs perfectly grilled chicken on a stick?"

His stomach growled loudly, answering him with resounding betrayal. Shaking his head, Arden pulled out the small pouch of coins Lolo had given him. They clinked in his palm—barely enough to buy more than one skewer.

Before he could decide, a sharp cry tore through the air.

"Help! Somebody help!"

The lively chatter of the crowd was instantly replaced by murmurs of concern. People parted, creating a path as they turned to see what had happened. Arden's sharp eyes darted toward the commotion. An elderly man had collapsed near a shaded bench, clutching his chest and gasping for air. His face was pale, sweat pouring down his temples.

"Heart attack," Arden muttered, his mind racing. He hesitated for a moment, the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the park momentarily overwhelming him. Then, pushing aside his apprehension, he pushed forward, slipping between onlookers frozen in shock.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Step back!" a burly bodyguard barked, his hand resting on the weapon at his hip. "Give him space!"

Arden squared his shoulders and kept moving. "Let me through!"

The man's stern expression darkened. "Step back, kid! This is no place for you."

"He's having a heart attack," Arden said firmly, his voice carrying an authority that didn't match his youthful appearance. "I can help."

"Who are you?" The voice came from a young woman kneeling beside the man. Her sharp, intelligent eyes locked onto Arden, scanning him with a mix of suspicion and urgency.

Arden didn't waver. "Does it matter? If you want him to live, let me help."

She hesitated, glancing between the bodyguard and Arden, then nodded. "Let him through."

The bodyguard reluctantly stepped aside, his hand twitching as if still ready to stop him. Arden knelt beside the man, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd and the weight of their stares.

From his satchel, he pulled out a small vial of crushed guava leaves, their green color vibrant even under the park's dappled sunlight. He rubbed the leaves between his palms, releasing their potent aroma, and held them close to the man's nose.

"Breathe," Arden instructed, his tone calm but commanding. "This will help until we get you to a doctor."

The man's breathing slowed as the soothing scent seemed to take effect. His labored gasps eased, and his tightly shut eyes flickered open. The crowd murmured in relief, the tension in the air beginning to dissipate.

"You're not done annoying the world yet, sir," Arden said with a faint smile, his attempt at humor earning a faint chuckle from the man.

The elderly man's lips moved, though his voice came out as a rasp. "Thank you…"

"Don't thank me yet," Arden replied, standing and brushing off his hands. "He needs real medical attention. Is there a clinic nearby?"

"We'll take him home," the young woman said, already pulling out her phone. Her composed tone contrasted with her quick, efficient actions as she barked orders to the bodyguards.

The man's grip tightened on Arden's arm. His gaze, though weak, held an intensity that unsettled Arden. "You have a gift," he said, his voice low but firm. "A rare one."

Arden looked away, uncomfortable under the weight of the gratitude in the man's eyes. "Just doing what I was taught."

The bodyguards helped lift the man onto a stretcher and began carrying him toward a sleek black SUV waiting at the edge of the park. The young woman turned back to Arden, her sharp gaze softening slightly. "Come with us."

"Uh, why?" Arden asked, caught off guard.

She handed him a card, its embossed gold letters catching the light. General Leoncio Valverde.

"My Lolo wants to talk to you," she said, her faint smile betraying a mix of curiosity and gratitude. "And so do I."

Arden stared at the card, unsure how to respond. His stomach growled again, louder this time, and he sighed. "I guess lunch can wait."