Having eaten their fill, it was time to embark on the exhausting journey of completing commissions.
With Ogre holding back on purpose, Lange truly got a taste of what it was like to bustle about, tending to everything.
Over the course of several consecutive battles, both Folke and Lange's combat awareness improved slightly.
“It's really hard to imagine how ordinary Professional Apprentices survive on these commissions.”
Lange lamented after bustling about for half the day.
The income from some of these commissions was not even worth a single meal of theirs.
“This place was never meant to nurture people to begin with,” Ogre said, wiping down the long spear that he had charred black and then painted over.
The Professionals Association was certainly no charity organization.
“No wonder there's such a massive backlog of commissions,” Folke sighed as he lowered his hand.
Directly ahead of him lay several slimes he had slain with magic. Slime mucus was also a side-target to gather for this quest, which could more or less boost their contribution points slightly.
“All the good commissions have been taken. The ones left behind are naturally the dirty and grueling tasks.”
Ogre slung his cloth-wrapped long spear behind his back and switched to his most comfortable tool, a small hammer. While spears looked impressive, their killing efficiency really couldn't compare to a hammer's.
It was too troublesome to swing, so he swapped it out.
As for the hidden blade equipped on Ogre's left hand, it was now gathering dust because its mechanism was broken.
Ogre had only discovered this while adjusting it last night.
It seemed to have been short-circuited by the electricity...
“Alright, just treat it as training. It's good to adapt to this kind of life. If we can't even handle a small thing like this, there's no point talking about anything else.”
After spending most of the day learning from Ogre, Folke had developed some of his own insights regarding wilderness survival and combat precautions.
“For normal long-term adventuring bands, it's very common to be out for half a month. Actually, our efficiency is already quite high. If we weren't trying to rank up quickly, there are quite a lot of worthwhile quests, like escort missions or bounty quests.”
Ogre explained as he gazed into the depths of the forest.
In truth, the money the three of them made from commissions was entirely enough to sustain the living expenses of ordinary citizens in the city, and they could even live quite comfortably.
But if they wanted to obtain more resources and further improvements, that was wishing for too much. Most monsters were of the type that yielded almost no benefits after being killed—for example, the piles of rotten wood and rusty iron on goblins couldn't even be sold, and the creatures themselves had no domestication value.
Only the meat of certain monsters and adult monsters capable of condensing a mana core possessed any value.
Yet, a monster capable of condensing a mana core would not be weaker than a quasi-Professional. Every monster that could grow to condense a mana core had gone through rigorous natural selection.
This kind of windfall was simply not something an ordinary adventurer could obtain. Sometimes, even if they were lucky enough to come across one, they still had to worry about whether they would lose it or be robbed on the way back.
Highly valuable monster meat would inevitably attract plunder by other monsters.
This was also why Ogre had ultimately chosen to escape the Forest of Monsters, come to human towns, and join the colosseum. Compared to the brutal law of the jungle, being treated like a 'fighting cricket' was nothing to lament.
“It seems I took things for granted,” Folke smiled wryly. His original plan was to complete everything within these few months.
“That's why it's not recommended to form an adventuring band during the Apprentice stage.” Ogre shook his head with a laugh. “Most Professionals are nurtured within systems. Adventurers who go out to make a living during their Apprentice stage rarely go far.”
What Ogre said was indeed the truth—the formidable adventuring bands were basically comprised of Professional forces who graduated from academies or churches.
Those who ventured out at the Apprentice level either died in the forests or wasted their years, ultimately achieving limited success.
A person's energy is, after all, limited.
“Ogre, what you're saying isn't quite right. Didn't the Dragon-Slayer Knight fight his way up all the way from an Apprentice-level adventurer to a Legend?” Lange spoke up in disagreement.
Bronze-grade Professionals were known as Senior Professionals.
Silver-grade Professionals above Seniors were referred to as High Professionals.
High Professional was clearly not the end. Above them were Professionals forged with Gold Badges, and this tier of Professionals was called—quasi-Legendary Professionals.
Ogre didn't know what the characteristics of a Professional at this stage were. He only knew that Professionals of this level were extremely formidable and powerful, a tier he couldn't possibly encounter.
And the Dragon-Slayer Knight whom Lange mentioned was someone above the Gold Badge tier, a Professional even stronger than a quasi-Legendary, standing at the pinnacle of adventurers—Legendary-grade!
Legendary-grade, as the name implied—their very existence was a living legend!
Their deeds spread across the Empire, they possessed authority closest to the Emperor, and they served as representatives who were pillars of the Empire.
“The Dragon-Slayer Knight...” Ogre had naturally heard of this renowned knight.
“Who knows? But after all, there's only one Dragon-Slayer Knight.” Ogre neither refuted nor agreed.
He was long past the age where listening to a story would make his blood boil.
He knew there were many things in this world that could not be obtained through hard work. Some resources and secret arts were things commoners could never touch.
Setting aside talent and relying solely on effort to become a Legend...
...to Ogre, it sounded like a joke.
He knew better than anyone how difficult this path was.
Ogre's words choked Lange up. He also understood that the reason a Legend was a Legend was precisely because of their nearly unrepeatable legendary path.
Lange had only retorted because he slightly disliked Ogre's defeatist tone. “You're right, Ogre... there really is only one knight who can be called the Dragon-Slayer.”
“Alright, Lange, don't overthink it. Just do your best to be yourself,” Folke comforted him, patting Lange's shoulder guard.
He knew that Lange was just struggling to accept the reality that he might be doing fruitless work.
“I am not looking down on those Professionals who venture out to adventure at the Apprentice level.” Ogre shook his head, then continued, “I only wanted to tell you that mediocrity is the reality of life for most of us here...”
No one wanted to be trapped in the mire, but family, background, talent, and mindset were all shackles that bound a person.
“To you guys, this is just a form of training. But to many Apprentices with poor talent and terrible backgrounds, this is already the best outcome they can pursue—compared to those who died without even knowing why.”
Ogre originally hadn't wanted to say these things to Lange and Folke, but in the end, he couldn't hold back.
“Indeed. That is why if people like us do not take the lead to change all of this... then truly no one will ever change it.”
The autumn wind blew through the tips of Folke's hair, and even the falling leaves seemed to drift around him...
Only at this moment did Ogre realize that Folke's resolve was perhaps not just empty talk.
“This has been the law since ancient times. It's simply the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest...” Having come from the Forest of Monsters, Ogre understood the cruelty of the jungle far better than most.
Human civilization was indeed much better than the law of the jungle.
But its essence hadn't truly changed.
It was still a system of elimination, still 'cannibalistic' in nature, with only a few pathways for upward mobility. For ordinary people at the bottom to rise, it was truly far too difficult.
Being born the offspring of an elf versus being born the offspring of a goblin—how could they ever be the same...
“Ogre, you are indeed too pessimistic.” Folke confidently spread his arms toward the setting sun, welcoming its final glow. “Has something been right just because it has been that way since ancient times?! Our human ancestors cleared paths through brambles and thorns to build our current civilization, and they certainly didn't achieve it by simply admitting defeat. I believe humanity will definitely find a better way out!”
“Young Master, I believe in you!” Lange stepped firmly behind Folke.
Ogre merely smiled once again. “Time will give me the answer. I wish you success, Folke. You are truly different from the nobles I've met before.”
Rate on N.U.
