"No problem! As long as you can heal me, name your price!"
The giant man waved his hand dismissively, the massive blade on his back glinting in the light. It was clear that money meant nothing to him.
"Lean forward a bit," said Lawrence calmly. "And don't resist."
A soft white glow bloomed from his palms, bathing the man's wounded waist in warm light.
The glow spread across the deep gash, and before the man's eyes, the torn flesh began to knit itself back together. In less than a minute, the wound was gone smooth, unblemished skin where only blood and ruin had been moments before.
This was the power of the Horse Talisman.
Its miraculous ability could purge illness, eliminate pain, and restore any physical damage whether living tissue or broken objects. And unlike most magical powers, it could be used on others, not just the wielder.
The patient twisted his torso experimentally, then broke into a grin.
"Good! Perfect! The rumors were true you really are as good as they say!"
"That'll be one hundred thousand Berries," Lawrence said, retracting his hands and shaking off the fading glow.
Originally, the treatment fee had been fifty thousand, but he'd doubled it for the man's size and attitude.
Even so, it was a fair price especially in a world where a good doctor was rarer than treasure.
The pirate chuckled darkly.
"Haha! Pay you?" He stood, gripping the hilt of his enormous cleaver. "I'm Yoder! Been a pirate for over ten years! Money goes into my pocket it doesn't come back out!"
In one smooth motion, he drew his weapon. The blade gleamed coldly as murderous intent filled the small room.
"Tell you what," Yoder sneered. "You hand me that box of cash, and I'll forget this ever happened."
His greedy eyes locked onto the wooden chest beside the chair the one stuffed with Berries.
Lawrence exhaled softly through his nose, almost laughing.
"So that's how it is? You think you can rob me?" He rose slowly from his chair, his tone calm but laced with menace. "Guess you haven't heard my name around here yet."
He stepped forward, eyes hard as steel.
"They call me the Butcher with Blood-Stained Hands. Children hear my name and don't dare sleep at night."
The air between them grew heavy, the tension almost physical.
"Hmph! Big words for a brat!" Yoder snarled, swinging his massive blade downward in a single, thunderous motion.
The steel arced toward Lawrence's head, slicing through the air with a shriek.
Lawrence didn't flinch. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
His hand shot up like lightning.
Two fingers caught the descending blade mid-swing.
A harsh metallic clang echoed through the room. The entire weapon vibrated, but Lawrence's grip held steady.
Then, with a flick of his wrist
Crack!
The blade shattered into jagged fragments, shards spraying across the room like shrapnel. Several slivers embedded themselves in Yoder's flesh, while one larger piece landed neatly in Lawrence's hand.
Before the stunned pirate could react, Lawrence's other fist shot forward, slamming into Yoder's arm with a sound like a breaking tree branch.
Crunch!
The bone snapped cleanly. Yoder howled in pain.
That was the power of the Ox Talisman sheer, unyielding strength.
It granted its user immense physical power, enhancing their body beyond human limits. Lawrence's once-average frame had grown to over two meters tall, his muscles packed with monstrous force.
Within him roared the strength of a primal beast.
A pirate from the East Blue was nothing more than a warm-up.
The entire exchange lasted barely a second. Yoder hadn't even had time to blink.
"I'll kill you!" he screamed, clutching his mangled arm. "You bastard! I'll cut you into pieces!"
Lawrence ignored the threats.
Still holding the shard of broken steel between his fingers, he twirled it lazily.
"Lean forward again," he said with a faint smile. "Don't resist."
"Wha—wait—"
Shlick!
The improvised blade slid effortlessly into Yoder's side. He screamed, eyes bulging in agony.
Lawrence twisted his wrist, and in one clean motion, carved into the pirate's waist and pulled something free.
Blood splattered across the wooden floor.
"Didn't pay," Lawrence said coolly, raising the still-bleeding organ in his hand, "so you don't get to keep the treatment."
He tilted his head, examining it. Then frowned.
"Wait. Wrong one."
He'd taken the left kidney instead of the right.
Without hesitation, he plunged the blade in again. Another scream tore from Yoder's throat as Lawrence extracted the other one.
"There," Lawrence said, nodding in satisfaction at the symmetry. He tossed both organs onto the floor with a wet slap.
"Take your kidneys and get out. Don't make a mess in my clinic."
Yoder was pale as death, drenched in sweat, trembling uncontrollably.
Whatever pride or bravado he'd had moments ago was gone.
He snatched up his organs and bolted out the door, stumbling and slipping in his own blood.
Outside, the waiting crowd barely reacted. They'd seen this before.
"Ah, another fool who thought he could mess with Doctor Law," someone murmured.
"Came in with one hole, left with two. Hell's sense of humor, that is."
"At least he can still walk. Last week, one guy left without his limbs!"
"That's our Bloodhand Butcher for you. Kind enough to heal you if you follow the rules. But cross him, and he'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, but no one stepped out of line. Every person here knew the truth.
Lawrence was the island's only doctor and its most dangerous man.
He didn't care whether you were a pirate, a thief, or a noble. In his clinic, you either followed the rules or faced the consequences.
Break the code, and he'd undo every miracle he'd given you double the pain for your trouble.
But play by the rules?
You'd walk away cured, as if reborn.
Inside, Lawrence wiped the blood from his hands with a torn rag, then tossed it aside. His expression didn't change.
He wasn't angry, or even disgusted. Just calm coldly professional.
In this world, strength ruled all.
To survive, he had to be ruthless.
Mercy without power was an invitation to be devoured.
"In the seas ruled by monsters," he murmured to himself, "the only language that works is violence."
He sat back down in his chair and exhaled slowly.
"Next!"
The door creaked open again.
A young woman stepped inside, her movements timid and cautious. Shoulder-length orange hair framed a face that was both delicate and determined. She wore a simple short-sleeved blouse and a nervous expression.
She hesitated near the door, glancing around as though she'd stumbled into the wrong place.
Lawrence looked up, ready to repeat his usual question.
"Where does it hurt?"
But when he saw her face, his words caught in his throat.
His heart skipped a beat.
Wait... that's... Nami?
For a moment, his thoughts scattered. He hadn't expected to meet a main character here not this soon, not without warning.
He coughed, forcing himself to regain composure.
Nami, clearly uncomfortable under his gaze, stammered softly,
"I... I'm not sick."