Chapter 13: Rival Healer ChallengeElder Maeva’s initial dismissal of Kray as a “chartan” and his “pleasure healing” as “quackery” had dotle to stem the tide of his growing popurity. In fact, her public pronous, inteo discredit him, seemed to have iently fueled the fmes of curiosity. The more vehemently she denounced him, the more vilgers, especially those suffering from persistent ailments, seemed drawn to the unventional allure of “pleasure.”
Maeva watched with mounting frustration as Kray’s tele steadily grew, her own dwindling slightly, especially amongst the younger geion and the women of Luma. Her herbal remedies, ohe erstone of Luma’s healthcare, now seemed less appealing, less… immediate pared to the whispered promises of Dray’s “miracle hands.”
She grumbled to herself as she sorted dried herbs in her dimly lit apothecary, the familiar earthy sts little soce. “Pleasure healing,” she muttered, spitting the words as if they were bitter herbs oongue. “I nonsense, corrupting the very fabric of our town!” Her authority, built over decades of service, felt challenged, undermined by this upstart boy and his… sensual methods.
She o act. She couldn't let this chartan tio peddle his… unorthodox practices, poisoning the minds of the vilgers and eroding the foundations of traditional healing. She o expose him, to prove to everyohat his “pleasure” was nothing but a fleetiion, a deceptive illusion pared to the true, time-tested path of herbalism.
An idea began to form in her mind, sharp and decisive, like the bde of her herb-cutting knife. A public demonstration. A healing petition. Traditional herbalism versus “Pleasure healing.” A showdown iown square, where everyone could witness, with their owhe true efficacy, or ck thereof, of young Dray’s unventional methods.
The market day, as the town square buzzed with its usual lively chaos, Elder Maeva strode purposefully to the ter of the gathering, her imposing figure demanding attention. She raised her voice, her deep, resonant tones cutting through the market cmor.
“Hear ye, hear ye, people of Luma!” she boomed, her voice eg across the square. “I have a challeo issue! A challeo settle this… this… debate ond for all!”
All eyes turo her, versations ceasing abruptly, merts pausing their hawking. The square fell into an expet hush, everyone sensing the gravity in Maeva’s pronou.
“This… ‘pleasure healing’ that young Dray is peddling,” she tinued, her voice dripping with disdain, “it is a dangerous distra, a frivolous fad that threatens to undermihe very foundation of true healing! To prove ond for all the superiority of traditional methods, I challenge young Dray to a public healing petition!”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. A healing petitioween Elder Maeva, the respected town herbalist, and Dray, the… troversial pleasure healer? The audacity of it, the sheer spectacle, captivated everyone instantly.
Maeva paused for dramatic effect, letting her words sink in, then tinued, her gaze sweeping across the assembled vilgers. “We will choose a patient, someone visibly suffering, and both Dray and I will attempt to heal them, using our respective methods. The town will judge, with their own eyes, which healing is more effective, menuine, more… sting!”
All eyes turowards Kray’s farm, perched on the edge of the town square, a collective expectation hanging in the air. Would he accept? Could he possibly refuse such a public challehout appearing cowardly, without validating Maeva’s accusations of quackery?
Kray, who had been quietly arranging his massage stool in his makeshift kit-ic, heard the booming voice carrying through the open window. His heart skipped a beat. A public healing petition? Challenged by Elder Maeva? It was both terrifying and… strangely exhirating.
He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of doubt whispering in his ear. Elder Maeva was a formidable oppo, respected and knowledgeable iraditional craft. He was… Dray the Quack, turned Pervert Healer, armed with a skill that sounded more like a parlor trick than a legitimate healing art. Could he really pete against her, in front of the eown?
But thehought able, now walking without a stick. Of Era, cough-free and radiatih. Of Bertha, softened by relief. He thought of the steady stream of ts seeking his unventional touch, the whispers of gratitude, the tangible proof of his skill’s efficacy. He wasn't just Dray the Quaymore. He was Kray, the Pleasure Healer. And he had something real, something potent, something that, despite its unventional nature, undeniably worked.
A surge of defiant resolve coursed through him, banishing the fear and doubt. He would accept. He would face Elder Maeva, not to prove his superiority, but to demonstrate the validity of his uh, to show Luma town that healing could e in ued, even pleasurable, forms.
He stepped out of his farmhouse, walking with deliberate strides towards the town square, his gaze fixed on Elder Maeva, his jaw set with newfouermination. The crowd parted silently as he approached, their expet whispers following him like a tide.
He stopped in front of Maeva, meeting her sharp, challenging gaze with his own steadier, more resolute one. “Elder Maeva,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm and clear, eg in the hushed square. “I accept your challenge.”
A collective gasp went through the crowd, followed by a low murmur of anticipation. Maeva’s lips curled into a thin, triumphant smile. “Good,” she said, her voice ced with a desding edge. “The us begihe people of Luma witness, ond for all, the true path to healing.”
The town square buzzed with activity as vilgers scrambled to prepare for the impromptu healing duel. A makeshift stage was erected, using market stalls and wooden pnks. A visibly ailing vilger, old farmer Giles, suffering from a persistent cough and chest gestion, was chosen as the patient, his wheezing breaths audible even from a distance.
Giles was helped onto the stage, settling onto a stool, his face pale and drawn, his cough rag his body. Elder Maeva stepped forward first, her demeanor posed and fident, radiating the authority of years of traditional practice.
She approached Giles with a solemn air, her movements deliberate and ritualistic. She produced a small pouch, from which she extracted a handful of dried herbs, their pu aroma filling the air. She muttered a few low, rhythmic ts, invoking a remedies and the healing power of nature. She then carefully prepared a poultice, mixing the herbs with warm water, her movements precise and practiced.
She applied the poultice to Giles’s chest, her touch firm and authoritative, expining the properties of each herb, their traditional uses for respiratory ailments. She instructed Giles to breathe deeply, inhaling the herbal fumes, emphasizing the importance of patiend trust in the healing process. Her methods were methodical, time-honored, undeniably expert iraditional framework.
Then, it was Kray’s turepped onto the stage, a stark trast to Maeva’s solemnity, his demeanor a mix of nervous anticipation and quiet resolve. He had no herbs, no ts, no eborate rituals. He simply approached Giles with a gentle smile, his hay, his approach seemingly… almost casual.
“Hello, Master Giles,” he said softly, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’m going to try something a little different. It might feel a bit… unusual, but just try to rex a me know if anything feels unfortable.” He sciously avoided mentioning “pleasure,” knowing Maeva was watg, ready to poun any perceived indecy.
He pced his hands gently on Giles’s chest, just like he had with Era, fog on the [Pleasure] skill. The familiar tingling warmth flowed from his fiips, seeping into Giles’s tense chest muscles. He began to massage, slowly, rhythmically, trag gentle circles across his chest and upper back, his movements fluid and intuitive.
The trast with Maeva’s method was stark. Maeva’s healing was external, focused on applying remedies from the outside, relying on the i properties of herbs and traditional knowledge. Kray’s healing was internal, focused on direct touch, eling energy from within, relying on the subtle power of pleasure aion.
As Kray massaged, Giles’s body visibly rexed. His shoulders dropped, his tense posture softened, his breathing being less bored, less wheezing. Soft sighs escaped his lips, sounds of genuine relief repg the strained gasps of earlier. The cough, which had been wrag his body just moments before, subsided, fading to an occasional, weak tickle.
The crowd watched in captivated sileheir initial skepticism slowly giving way to bewildered fasation. Maeva, standing rigidly to the side, observed with narrowed eyes, her expression a mixture of disbelief and growing frustration.
After a few minutes of massage, Kray gently withdrew his hands. Giles sat up straighter, taking a deep breath, his chest expanding fully, without the rattling cough that had pgued him earlier. His face, previously pale and drawn, now held a healthier flush, his eyes brighter, clearer.
“Well, Master Giles,” Kray asked softly, “how do you feel?”
Giles took another deep breath, then another, his face breaking into a wide, relieved grin. “By the Saints, young Dray,” he excimed, his voice stronger now, clearer, “that’s… that’s something else! My chest feels… lighter, clearer than it has in months! The cough… it’s practically gone!” He coughed once, experimentally, a weak, almost souickle. “Just a little tickle now, that’s all! And… and it felt… surprisingly good, you know? Warm and… and rexing. Much more fortable than that cold poultice, that’s for sure!” He chuckled, a genuine, hearty ugh that echoed across the square.
A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, this time a murmur of astonished agreement. The ge in Giles was undeniable, visible to everyone present. His breathing was clearer, his color healthier, his demeanor visibly improved. And his testimonial, emphasizing both the effectiveness and the fort of Kray’s “pleasure massage,” resonated deeply with the assembled vilgers.
Elder Maeva, however, remained unmoved. Her face was tight with barely suppressed fury, her eyes bzing with indignation. “Fleeting relief!” she decred, her voice cutting through the murmuring crowd. “A temporary sensation! Herbs and time are needed for true, sting healing! This… this… fleeting pleasure will offer no long-term be!”
But her words rang hollow against the undeniable evidence before them. Giles, feeling invigorated and empowered, stood up from the stool, walking around the stage with surprising ease, demonstrating his newfound mobility and clear breathing. The crowd, swayed by the tangible results and Giles’s enthusiastidorsemeed in appuse, a spontaneous, resounding wave of approval that washed over Kray, solidifying his victory.
Elder Maeva stid oage, her face a mask of furious humiliation, watg as the crowd thronged around Kray, sh him with gratutions, with requests for massages, with a newfound respect b on awe. Her challenge, inteo discredit him, had backfired spectacurly, solidifying his reputation, not as a quack, but as a genuine, albeit unventional, healer.
Kray, basking in the ued glow of public approval, felt a surge of triumph, a validation he had never experienced before. He had won. He, Dray the Quack, had won against Elder Maeva, the respected town herbalist. He had proven, in front of the eown, the power, the effectiveness, the undeniable appeal of his… Pleasure healing. And as he looked out at the cheering crowd, a new wave of ts already f a queue, he khat his life, and the life of Luma town, would never be quite the same again. The Pervert Healer had arrived, and his reign of unventional, pleasurable healing had just begun. But with victory came attention, both positive and undeniably ive. And Elder Maeva, humiliated and enraged, was far from defeated. She was merely bidiime, her rese simmering, ready to unleash her backsh, ensuring that Kray’s path to being the best healer, or the best Pervert Healer, would be far from smooth sailing.
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Name : Kray(18)
Css : Healer
Level : 2 (0/20)
LP (Love Points) : 18+2
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Skills : [Pleasure : Lvl 2] , [Kiss : Lvl 1], [Ecchi moments : Lvl 1]
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