After returning to the village.
Lange tossed the two goblin heads down, completing the commission just like that. The entire process had taken less than an hour.
As for the pitiful women who were fortunate enough to be rescued, they were handed over to the village. Those with family sought out their family, those with other destinations went there, and those with nowhere else to go were asked if they were willing to stay. If they chose to stay, they would basically be treated as fellow villagers.
If they were lucky enough, this abduction would likely be the most tragic moment of their entire lives.
Time was the best medicine, capable of diluting any pain.
Admittedly, this was a helpless sort of sorrow; they had a choice, yet they really had no choice at all...
“Commoners in these borderlands really are at the mercy of fate...”
Only after insisting on personally seeing those poor women off did Folke prepare to lead the team to claim their stamped mission proof and leave the village.
“Wait, adventurers!” Just as they were about to depart, a young villager ran out in a hurry, holding a sword.
“What's the matter?” Folke asked, startled.
“I'm the son of the village blacksmith. Thank you for clearing out the goblins and saving Rivena! So... so please, you must accept this!” The youth bowed, presenting the weapon with both hands.
“No, no, we have already received our reward. There is really no need...” Folke prepared to decline without a second thought. The main reason was that he did not lack this level of equipment.
“Th-this is the best sword I've ever forged!”
“Just take it. Keep it as a memento,” Ogre said, patting Folke on the shoulder just as the latter was about to speak again. Then, Ogre took the sword on his behalf.
Ogre lifted the sword and flicked it with a finger. The blade let out a crisp ringing sound.
Under the high-speed vibration, the sword's flaws and strengths were laid completely bare in Ogre's eyes—his heightened vision was top-tier when it came to observing weapon weaknesses. Although it wasn't perfectly accurate, it was more than enough to get a general idea.
The materials used for this sword weren't particularly high-quality; truly superior materials wouldn't vibrate so easily.
However, the sword had been forged flawlessly, vibrating with perfect uniformity. It was more than enough to kill goblins. In all likelihood, this fine blade did not actually come from the hands of this young blacksmith.
“Thank you. This is a very fine weapon. I think it might be the best sword in the whole village, but I believe your next work will be even better,” Ogre said with a half-joke.
This served to return the goodwill on Folke's behalf.
His praise caused the young blacksmith's face to flush slightly. “Th-thank you.”
Seeing this, Folke ultimately did not reject this act of kindness. He solemnly accepted the weapon—which was practically worthless to him—from Ogre's hands.
...
“Don't the villagers need these weapons more than we do? Why would he give it away?” Folke asked Ogre after storing the sword in his void pocket.
“Maybe he didn't think about it as deeply as you are. This is likely just the best thing he had to offer,” Ogre replied with a smile.
“Why do poor people always like to express their gratitude by giving away their most precious possessions...” Folke couldn't quite understand.
In truth, he would have preferred it if a child presented him with flowers as a token of appreciation...
“I don't really understand either,” Ogre said, shaking his head.
To Ogre, what did it matter what was given?
Having failed to get an answer from Ogre, Folke turned to look at Lange and Serandic. Ultimately, however, he figured he wouldn't get anything insightful from those two either, and could only sigh in lament. “Speaking of which, those rescued women truly are unfortunate. I wonder what their lives will be like from now on...”
“They aren't the most unfortunate ones,” Ogre suddenly remarked. He then raised his head to look at the sun. “The truly unfortunate ones were left behind forever in some raid, or tortured to death in a nest.”
Though Ogre was merely speaking the truth, it sounded incredibly harsh to Folke's ears.
He didn't argue, nor did he agree; he simply clenched his fists tightly.
This was the first time this young master, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, had witnessed the cruel reality of the world.
Folke sighed, “Sigh...”
Original internal monologue indicates a sigh of realization that some people have to expend all their effort just to stay alive.
Folke's mindset had quietly undergone some changes during this brief journey. He silently set a new goal for himself... a goal far more difficult to achieve than his original ideals.
“That's why all goblins deserve to die!”
These words came from Serandic. He firmly believed that the root of all this suffering was the existence of those detestable goblins!
Serandic raised his hand and threw a mock punch, seemingly still immersed in the slaughter from earlier.
A persistent, foul stench of blood still clung to his gauntlets, which had been stained red with goblin blood—but he was highly satisfied.
“It's not about right or wrong. You can only say that some species are naturally in conflict with one another,” Ogre remarked casually, as he thought of his own father...
But was it really the goblins who had caused this series of tragedies?
Yes, but behind it all lay the Empire's negligence.
‘Commoners? Do they even qualify as human?’
This was what Ogre had once overheard during a conversation between some nobles.
It wasn't that the Empire lacked the ability to address these issues. For instance, they could expand the urban areas, increase military protection, or allow people to live in the vacant sectors of the cities...
But they did none of those things.
Perhaps commoners and imperial nobles truly belonged to different species...
Rather than wasting time and effort, they preferred to let things take their course.
After all, humans were like weeds; harvest one batch, and another would eventually grow.
“Speaking of the Empire, why don't they just wipe out all the low-level monsters here in one go?” Lange chimed in with a complaint. Most of his thoughts remained superficial.
His philosophy on life was very simple—just follow Folke.
“But doesn't the Professionals Association post clearance missions all the time?” Serandic asked, puzzled.
“Pfft, that's only because the Association wants to make money. If there was no profit in it, see if they would ever post them. Chores like this are only taken by rookies like us trying to boost our star-grade. Actual Professionals wouldn't even spare them a glance,” Lange grumbled further as he took off his stuffy helmet.
Evidently, he and Folke had run into some unpleasantness when accepting missions.
Lange was a typical example of someone who had grown up far too straightforward, making him somewhat similar to Serandic.
But unlike Serandic, he had not experienced many hardships, so it was difficult for him to truly comprehend or perceive certain realities.
When one was caught inside the system, without some special stroke of perspective, it was very difficult to break free of it.
“Lange,” Folke interrupted the duo's conversation in a tone devoid of emotion.
“What is it, Young Master?” Lange finally stopped muttering.
“Go with me to take on another couple of commissions later,” Folke said.
“But there are barely any of those missions left...” Lange said instinctively.
No matter how many goblins one killed, it was extremely difficult to get anything of value from them. If not for the fact that some villages simply could not bear the harassment any longer and pooled their funds, such tasks wouldn't even appear on the mission board.
The Professionals Association's classification of these tasks under the apprentice category made their stance clear; this type of monster was basically meant for beginners to practice on.
Normally, the ones who cleared out these low-level monsters most proactively were the members of the Church of Dawn—
The Church of Dawn believed in pure human supremacy. Every year, they would take some time to clear out monsters and provide free healing to villagers.
It could be said that without the Church of Dawn, there would be far fewer outlying villages. This was also why, despite being inferior to the Church of Truth in every other aspect, the Church of Dawn continued to flourish.
“Even if there are no official missions, we should still do it.” Folke's ambitions lay elsewhere, but he still wanted to do some good before he left.
In this world, perhaps only those with power and authority possessed the courage to extend goodwill.
‘If I don't do it, who else can I count on?’ Folke thought to himself.
“Actually, it doesn't have to be that tedious. We can just clear them out first and report it later,” Ogre suddenly chimed in.
If the number and scale of uncommissioned goblin exterminations were significant enough, they could also contribute experience to one's Professional star-grade rating.
It was just that there wouldn't be any monetary reward.
“What do you mean?” Folke stopped in his tracks, turning his head to look at Ogre. The others had no choice but to stop as well.
In truth, they had been accommodating Folke's pace the entire way, as Folke was the only mage in the party.
“I noticed a goblin gathering spot earlier, and it's also marked on the rough sketch the village guard gave me. It's just a bit far. If you're all fine with it, I can lead the way now. Although it probably isn't within our mission boundary, I reckon such a large concentration of goblins must have some sort of treasure... Even if we find nothing, reporting the clearance should be enough to elevate us to a Two-Star rating.”
Ogre naturally saw through Folke's thoughts, but he remained somewhat indifferent in his heart.
This was because he had seen many people like this. There were always rookies who, after experiencing a few things or witnessing something, would feel a wave of sympathy and develop a sense of responsibility as if they were some savior, wishing to do something about it.
Yet that was often just a temporary surge of hot-blooded emotion that would fizzle out in a few days. After some time, they would realize they had their own lives to live, and simply didn't have the luxury to care about so much.
Those who could persist with such fleeting ideals were a rare minority.
A person could not, and should not, determine their future based solely on a momentary impulse.
‘Savior? There is no such thing as a savior. People can only save themselves...’
Ogre never placed his hopes on any so-called saviors.
He respected those who could persevere, but he believed even more strongly that only a person themselves could truly save them.
Nevertheless, despite his own beliefs, Ogre wouldn't mock those idealists—
Even if it was just taking a single step out of momentary passion, it was still worthy of acknowledgment.
Recklessness was far better than doing nothing out of cowardice and confusion.
‘Dependence will always crumble, child. The only true savior will always be yourself.’
—《The Divine Words of Dawn》 / On God and His Eldest Son.
“Then what are we waiting for? Senior Brother, lead the way! We still have plenty of time today,” Serandic, the honest blonde youth, was the first to speak up.
Why had he sneaked out in the first place? Wasn't it to take revenge on those green beasts!
Rewards and such were secondary.
Lange tactfully shut his mouth and quietly awaited Folke's decision.
Feeling their gazes on him, a sense of mission welled up in Folke's heart. “Lead the way, Ogre. You're the professional in this area.”
Folke felt very fortunate to have chosen such a relatively reliable teammate. This guy was countless times better than those playboys in his own family who only knew how to chase women.
Folke had never considered those self-indulgent slackers as his peers. His rivals would always be the true geniuses of the world.
“Can you handle it?” Ogre asked.
“Hahaha, I won't hold you back.” Folke laughed brightly. He hadn't expected that a day would come when he would voluntarily say something like “I won't hold you back.”
The sudden, hearty laugh caused Ogre to look at Folke with a touch more respect.
For some reason, he actually got the feeling that maybe Folke was indeed somewhat different from the rest.
“Then follow me,” Ogre said, smiling as well.
With that, the group set off, taking their strides toward the direction of the blazing sun.
Rate on N.U.
