In Rose Village, where Boris's decoy wagon—alongside Tamer and Anton—had arrived a day earlier,
Boris found himself surrounded by a circle of green-skinned children.
Their multicolored eyes stared at him with curiosity mingled with admiration.
"Brois Bro, can you teach us that move again?" asked a small boy,
trying to mimic a backward flip—but nearly falling until Boris caught him just in time.
Boris smiled gently as he corrected the child's posture.
"Like this—keep your elbow a little lower… Yes, that's better…"
The sun stood at its zenith, its rays falling upon the village's dusty square.
The joyful sounds of children sharply contrasted the surrounding environment's harshness.
For a moment, Boris forgot everything—Darmon, the losses, the weight on his shoulders.
Here, among these children—no, among any children—he found a simple, pure peace.
But suddenly, he froze.
He lifted his head, his silver eyes turning northward—toward the road leading to the village gate.
"It seems my companions have finally arrived," he whispered, patting the heads of the children around him.
"I must go now. Practice the moves I taught you, and I'll check your progress later—but be careful. As I told you: focus on the basics first."
The children protested sweetly, but Boris was already rising, brushing dust off his trousers.
He walked toward the village gate, his copper-brown hair shimmering under the slanting sunlight.
***
Four long, tedious days had passed—an age in itself—and at last, we were nearing the end of this endless road.
Throughout the journey, I'd tried to connect with some of the kids—who, for some reason, seemed to prefer bullying me.
On the bright side, most others still saw me as some kind of mythical creature—awesome and annoying at the same time.
But still… I am the mythical creature—
"##-&#"
Lia uttered the word in her usual flat tone, cutting off the inner monologue I was about to launch into.
Yes—I was now stuck in a full-blown linguistic nightmare: forced to learn a language that sounded like broken teeth rattling in thick honey.
"#+)+" I attempted to mimic.
"No. Not #+)+. #$+)+ means cat. ##-&# means dog. Again."
I sat in the fourth wagon of the caravan, while Lia repeated these syllables relentlessly—her silver eyes watching me as if I were a math equation in need of solving.
"Ahhh, why do I even have to learn the Nita language? Can't I just rely on your enchan—"
"Encryption," she corrected me, her voice dripping with boredom. "No, you can't. Several conditions can nullify the encryption. So learning Nita—the language spoken by most inhabitants of this region—is the wisest choice."
I fell silent. I couldn't argue; she held the knowledge, and I held only my own confusion.
How did I end up like this? I'd imagined my life in this world filled with adventures and epic battles…
instead, I was captured, joined a caravan, and now I'm learning a new language from a girl who looks seven but speaks like she's seventy—and refuses to tell me her real age.
We were passing through an open area. The air felt lighter than the dense forest's, though the horizon remained bordered by trees like a distant green wall.
In our wagon, Leo and Sonia were lost in sleep. Leo leaned against the wagon's edge, his round, boyish face completely relaxed—his pale blond hair fluttering in the road's breeze.
In front of me, Sonia slept in a rather odd position—sitting upright, her long rabbit-like ears flopping onto her shoulders, one bent awkwardly.
I really wanted to touch her ears… but she'd rejected me every time. Do I look suspicious?
Anyway, her sleeping posture looked uncomfortable—yet she slept deeply. I envied their ability to sleep through this boring journey. So I searched for something—anything—to pull me out of this dullness.
I turned my head lazily left, scanning the green fields—until I spotted something strange.
"What's that?" I muttered.
Lia turned her flat gaze to see what I was looking at. At the roadside stood several short, green-skinned creatures.
Slender arms, short legs, bipedal. They watched us in silence and curiosity—children, I assumed…
No—by all signs… Goblins!
"Lia! Isn't this dangerous?" I whispered anxiously.
"No." She replied with a single word, as if brushing away a fly.
"Why?!" I insisted.
She pointed with her slender finger toward a carved wooden sign by the road. Her voice was flat, as if reading from a textbook:
"Rose Village. Most residents: Goblhum. Under the protection of the Kingdom of Neoland."
Then, in the same neutral tone, she added:
"Goblhum are a different kind of goblin. The probability of them attacking sentient beings is low."
"A different kind?"
"Yes. They are not pure goblins, but the hybrid result of years of ash and subjugation."
She paused, then continued without a shift in tone:
"Between years 1400 and 1550, hordes of Chimera Goblins waged what is known as the 'Seasonal Captivity Wars'. It was not a war for territory, but a campaign to harvest sentient genetics. Thousands of humans and Elves were taken into the deep woods. Of the few who returned, many carried with them indelible traces—hybrid genes forced into their lineages. Those bodies did not return alone; they bore the seeds of a new, outcasted generation, born of trauma rather than choice."
She spoke of tragedy as if reciting weather statistics.
"The majority of these hybrids perished in their first year. Those who survived carried the weight of a history they did not choose. Those you see now are the remnants of that dark era, a race born from the breaking of our ancestors by the cruelty of goblins. They were named Goblhum."
She lifted her eyes toward the small goblins. Her silver eyes gleamed with a cold light—like polished metal. No sorrow. No anger. No pity. Just facts. She's definitely not a child...
"The Kingdom of Neoland granted Goblhum the status of 'semi-sentient beings' in 1785. They live here with limited rights, rejected by most dominant races. Statistically, they pose no threat..."
Her speech was abruptly cut off as the wagons halted sharply. She was still staring at me with that empty gaze—as if the caravan's sudden stop was just another datum to be recorded.
I turned to see five riders mounted on strange creatures—larger than horses, with short horns, wide ears, and sharp teeth. Their overall color was green, striped with yellow or red markings.
Kalu began speaking: "+@-+$#--&)#-_+#"
"@$#_+#_#)_+$-#-#-!" one rider replied neutrally.
Jon stood up and stepped down from our wagon, moving forward—his back tense, as if shielding Kalu.
The riders exchanged glances. I felt the tension rise…
Oh. I guess I was wrong… They're smiling at each other… *Where's the drama?*
"No worries—the group before you has already arrived. They're in the village."
Hmm… so Boris and the others have arrived.
Wait—how did *I* understand them?
"I've reactivated the encryption. I'll go now."
Lia said—and in an instant, she vanished.
"Wait! Where'd you go?!" I cried—but she was already completely gone.
Then, in a flash, Leo woke up as if he hadn't been sleeping at all—and leapt off the wagon, sprinting into the fields.
"You scared me…" I grumbled under my breath.
"Alright, folks—we're stopping here. Feel free to explore and trade in the village at your leisure. I'll go with the guards to handle some formalities," Kalu shouted.
He took a few steps, mounted one of the strange creatures with a guard, and left—followed by Jon and another guard.
*What is this creature? It looks like a horse but has horns… and kinda resembles a bull…* I thought, with no answer.
"Aaah~… Are we stopping?" Sonia yawned, rubbing her eyes as her ears dangled…
*I really want to touch them…*
***
Smoke and the scent of burning wood gave a distinct aroma to a low-roofed tavern, its dark walls inlaid with rusted metal strips.
Massive wooden tables and long benches, carved deeply with random scratches and graffiti, were filled with green-skinned Goblhum—ranging in height from 160 to 175 cm.
They chatted here and there, their voices rising in laughter and chatter.
A few foreign adventurers were scattered about—holding meetings or simply relaxing.
Tamer sat in the farthest corner from the door, a dark coffee cup between his palms.
The coffee here was bitter as gall, but carried a strange flavor—like roots mixed with spicy herbs.
"This isn't like any coffee you've probably tasted. It's Goofer-Dim Coffee—not made from beans, but from a root plant called Goofer. Do you like it?"
The waiter was an elderly Goblhum, his wrinkled green skin marked with white scars like tattoos.
His narrow yellow eyes were sharp, yet his voice was soft and clearly polite.
"It's good—but it takes time to get used to. Give me another cup," Tamer replied, pushing his empty ceramic mug toward the old man.
The elder picked up the long metal pot and poured the black liquid with practiced precision.
His hands trembled slightly—but not a single drop spilled outside the cup.
"Do adventurers come here regularly?" Tamer asked, lifting the cup to his lips. He took a sip, then continued: "And where exactly do they operate?"
"Yes—mostly here to hunt various beasts in the forest, but only in the northern and western regions, and the area between them. They don't enter the west and south—it's full of bandits, and no one pays them to clear it," the elder said, beginning to wipe the nearby table with a gray rag.
*So we survived by sheer luck… We were deep in bandit territory…* Tamer thought deeply.
As if reading his mind, the elder warned: "Caution is wise, sir."
Tamer smiled but didn't reply. His eyes drifted to the small window covered with a metal mesh.
Through the dirty glass, he could see the village's dusty square:
Goblhum children playing with a ball made of wrapped hides. A green-skinned woman carrying a laundry basket.
Life here was quiet… slow.
Guards of various races patrolled the wooden walls—moving comfortably among the residents.
"Mr. Tamer." A dry, calm voice.
Tamer turned his head. Anton stood at the tavern's entrance.
"The caravan… has arrived." His words were clipped, like a report.
Tamer took one last sip of coffee, then placed the cup on the table with measured calm.
"Thank you. The coffee… I might take some with me before we leave."
He stood, placing two small copper coins on the table.
The elderly Goblhum nodded, his eyes following Tamer for a moment before returning to his work.
At the threshold, Tamer paused. He turned to Anton.
"Do you know where Boris is?" he asked curiously.
Anton replied tersely: "He's playing with the village children. He's very popular with them."
"Well… even in the caravan, he was the same," Tamer said. "Where's your sister? Sheriff, she was glued to you the whole time before."
He looked around, searching.
"She's probably meeting Mr. Kalu at the village sheriff's office now," Anton replied.
"So she's meeting Mr. Kalu… Did you meet Mr. Kalu before coming to fetch me?"
"No. I was with her in the office when the news came through the Konasil. So I rushed to tell you."
"I see… By the way, I didn't expect you to be noble—let alone a duke's son."
As they stepped into daylight, Tamer added with a light chuckle:
"Should I start calling you Sir Anton N. Rosovis now?"
Anton gently shoved Tamer's shoulder.
"Stop that… I didn't want to use that title again—but now… if I'm to care for Hao's family, I have no choice but to use it."
"It's fine, it's fine—I was just teasing. So… will you leave the caravan after we exit the forest? We're heading to Talim City before the capital, as you know."
"As we walk away from the tavern," Anton replied, "Yes… I think that's what will happen."
Silence fell. As they passed through the village square, Tamer noticed Boris was nowhere among the children. So he stopped one boy briefly:
"Excuse me, little one—where did Boris go?"
The green-skinned boy looked at Tamer:
"Brois Bro left after someone came and said his companions had arrived."
Tamer smiled, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Thank you, lad."
The boy ran off quickly.
Tamer turned to Anton.
"I think he went to meet the caravan. Let's go find Mr. Kalu—and reunite with Boris and the others later."
Anton nodded as the two continued toward the village sheriff's office.
***
"So you confirm the bandits somehow controlled the wolves—and turned them all into Bloody Wolves?"
"Yes. According to what we found and the prisoners' testimonies… that's what we believe."
The meeting took place in a small wooden office. Seated there was a sheep-like woman with soft pink wool. Her eyes were green—one horizontal slit, the other round like a human's. She listened as Kalu reported his findings. On her desk sat a clear metal badge announcing her name: Sheriff Dame Lima N. Rosovis.
"I believe you. Your account matches what my brother told me. That's enough for credibility."
Her voice carried a trace of boredom and annoyance.
"But this… is truly dangerous…" she added in a final whisper.
Kalu watched her silently, realizing her distress stemmed from something deeper than just the news.
Suddenly, a knock interrupted the office's silence.
"Dame Rosovis—Sir Anton and Mr. Tamer have arrived."
Her sheep-like ears twitched visibly at the guard's words.
"Let them in."
The door opened—Anton and Tamer entered side by side.
"Good afternoon, Dame Rosovis. Good afternoon, Mr. Kalu."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kalu…" Anton then turned to the woman, his voice softening with a mix of respect and discomfort: "…older sister."
Kalu's eyebrows rose slightly—clear surprise on his face.
"Your sister?!" But he quickly composed himself. "Well… the resemblance is too obvious to hide."
Anton didn't answer. Lima had already stood and walked swiftly toward him.
She raised her hands and gently cupped his face between them—an instinctive gesture full of care and worry.
"You're unharmed? You weren't hurt after leaving me, were you?" she whispered, brushing a speck of dust from his cheek with her thumb.
"I was literally with you less than half an hour ago," Anton sighed, trying to pull her hands away.
"Alright…" She stepped back, but her mismatched green eyes remained fixed on him—as if confirming it with her own eyes.
"I can't help but worry about my little brother."
Anton stayed silent as Lima turned back to the group, reclaiming her official role.
"You're lucky to have survived. You were in a situation no one would envy."
Kalu shifted slightly in his seat, his voice carrying the pride of a practical man who knows the worth of his men.
"With all due respect, Sheriff—my men are all capable. But…" Despite his confidence, he paused and admitted:
"Yes. We were lucky to meet that boy, Boris. Without him, we'd be wolf food by now."
Lima nodded. "I know. My brother told me—and I've already met him. He's an interesting boy."
She resumed pacing, her hooves clicking softly on the floor until she sat again, elbows on the desk. Her expression turned serious:
"The central forest area—where your battle took place… Unfortunately, it's not under my jurisdiction. It's a vast gray zone lying between Jugesp Province, governed by Duke N. Rosovis—my father—and Viaco Province. So as merely the sheriff of Rose Village, I can't send guards or clear it."
"But isn't this dangerous? Leaving such a wide stretch of road unguarded?" Tamer asked thoughtfully.
"It's obvious to you and me—but not to the stupid central administration," Lima said, boredom returning to her voice.
"I requested permission from the Kingdom to conduct reconnaissance patrols. My request was denied. So I turned to my father, the Duke, asking him to allocate at least a budget to hire an adventurer team to clean the area…"
She paused, then nodded in frustration.
"He refused my request too. They say resources are reserved for 'confirmed' threats on the coastal borders—not for a 'potential danger' in an abandoned forest."
Kalu and Tamer had no stake in these internal matters, but the silence that followed her words felt heavy with absurdity.
Then she spoke again—this time with a spark of planning in her eyes:
"Fortunately, you've brought me something that might shift the balance: the four prisoners. I'll use their confessions—and their very existence—as concrete evidence to convince the Kingdom. Seeing real criminals might stir these stagnant waters."
She smiled—a smile full of confidence.
"And the gang leader, delivered by members of the Requests Guild, is a winning card."
"Ah, yes… that also involves Boris," Kalu murmured, remembering his men's report.
Boris had used a black coin from the gang leader to hire the Requests Guild—arranging for the leader to be sent directly to the authorities.
"Hmm," Lima continued. "They're temporarily imprisoned in a separate holding cell under our guard. I'll personally transfer them to the capital. The leader's confession—combined with his three men's, or even just his presence—will be the argument I've been waiting for."
She looked at the three men, her gratitude unmistakably genuine.
"You've brought me the weapon that might save this entire region. Thank you… deeply."
Just as she was about to finish, they heard shouting from outside:
"Let me in, you damn fools! Anton and Tamer are inside—why didn't you tell me earlier?!"
Kalu rubbed his head—he already knew it was Jon.
He was supposed to wait, but somehow he'd learned about Tamer and Anton's presence at the meeting.
"I sincerely apologize for this," Kalu said to Lima.
Lima waved her hand with a smile.
"No need. A little seriousness needs… a bit of liveliness."
She seemed to enjoy this small chaos that broke the monotony of formal meetings.
But her smile faded slightly as Jon's voice grew louder outside:
"If you don't let me in, I'll smash the door down!"
Lima turned to Kalu with an expression that clearly said: *I assume your friend doesn't like waiting.*
Kalu stood up, muttering, "I'm sorry again—I'll handle this," and headed toward the door.
Before he opened it, Lima cast a glance out the window—where the last rays of sun filtered through the dirty glass, drawing a golden line across the scattered papers on her desk.
She sighed quietly.
*It had been a long day… But at least it hadn't been boring.*