After collecting today's compensation from the arena, Ogre departed.
As his reputation grew, fewer people dared to challenge him. Although the gold coins earned per fight had increased, the number of matches had dwindled.
The fish pond at the Apprentice rank was probably just too shallow.
Then again, even Martial Artists who qualified at the Apprentice rank made up a relatively small portion of the human population, which differed quite a bit from what Ogre had originally imagined.
Yet upon closer thought, it made sense. Even for Martial Artists, the easiest profession to qualify as an Apprentice, the training time and costs were not something ordinary commoners could afford.
Nor could just anyone head into the Forest of Magical Beasts to earn money.
Were it not for the wealth his father had left behind and the boosts granted by his own innate abilities, it would have been difficult for Ogre to become a Martial Apprentice as well.
Unfortunately, an Apprentice was an Apprentice after all. Until one became a Professional, one could not truly be called “Transcendent.” Though he could dispatch Apprentices in just a few moves now, if he were to face a real Professional, surviving even two rounds was far from guaranteed.
The criteria for qualifying as a Professional across each path were distinct and explicit—
A Knight who completed the interaction of the Life Circle and fully awakened their battle qi.
A Martial Artist who achieved the Fusion of the Three Qi and cultivated blood qi rage.
A Mage who condensed their own Mana Core.
A Warlock who imbibed a forbidden potion to master transcendent warlock power.
And a Mind-Imager whose Mind-Image Seed had fully blossomed.
None of these were within Ogre's current reach...
“I still have a chance.”
Ogre slipped skillfully through one street after another. By the time he reemerged, the presence he possessed on the arena stage was gone without a trace. No one would ever guess that this utterly ordinary-looking boy was the strongest defending champion of the Apprentice arena.
Patting the meditation method tucked into his disguised inner armor once more, Ogre offered a faint smile.
Perhaps his path as a Mind-Imager still had a fighting chance.
The strength of a Mind-Imager lay in this: as long as one nurtured a Mind-Image Seed, advancing to Professional was practically guaranteed.
Granted, Mind-Imagers were considered the weakest Professionals, but the weakest Professional was still a Professional.
As long as one was a Professional, one was powerful, and one was noble!
In truth, if possible, Ogre still preferred to become a Martial Artist; his innate abilities were better suited to assist his martial cultivation.
Of course, if becoming a Mind-Imager also failed, Ogre would have no choice but to search the black market for a way to become a Warlock...
...
“Look who's here! Isn't this our little Ogre?” Seeing Ogre, the restaurant owner greeted him with natural warmth; he was very fond of the little fellow before him. “Have you done your mural work today?”
He was referring to the Church of Dawn's recent mural repainting project, an area where Ogre showed quite a bit of talent.
If he performed well enough, he might even be able to remain within the church. Though the Church of Dawn wasn't as colossal as the Church of Truth, it was still a considerable power.
Ogre shook his head. “I'm just about to head over, Uncle Ba, but I've got to eat first...”
Were it not for vengeance, he would have liked to stay within the Church of Dawn as a muralist or sculptor. Since childhood, he had loved painting and stone sculpting; they were among the few hobbies of his early years.
A pity, really.
“Fair enough. Eat your fill so you have strength. Want to try something else, or the usual?”
“Yeah, the usual. Thanks, Uncle Ba.” Ogre nodded, taking out the copper coins he had exchanged from earlier.
Receiving a nod of acknowledgment from the owner known as Uncle Ba, Ogre found an empty seat against the wall and waited for his food to be served.
In the downtime, he took out the transcription of the meditation method and began reading it.
Ogre had wrapped the meditation method in the cover of a miscellaneous book, so there was no need to worry about anyone recognizing it.
“Father, who are those two statues?” A child's voice from a neighboring table drifted into Ogre's ears.
Perhaps the word “Father” stirred up some longing in Ogre, prompting him to glance sideways involuntarily.
“Those are the two legendary Knights who liberated the slaves thousands of years ago—Dusk and Dawn.” The father wore standard clerical attire. Judging by his appearance, he was likely from out of town as well.
‘There really have been quite a few outsiders in town lately...’
Ogre could keenly sense that something seemed about to happen in this remote little city...
Was it territorial expansion, or an influx of trade? Forget it, none of it concerned him.
“But Father, why do we still have slaves now if they were already liberated?”
“Those are other races, not humans...”
Listening to the conversation between father and son, Ogre unconsciously clenched his fist.
Other races... outsiders. Such simple rejection was what had cost his father his life.
Soon, however, he relaxed his grip.
Because Ogre had to admit that the father and son were right... Racial conflicts had always existed. If humans did not dispatch Professionals and armies to purge monsters and other races, those monsters and other races would invade humans.
The divide between intelligent beings and low-intelligence creatures was inherently unequal. Farmland and resources, including the meat everyone ate, were all things fought and contested for.
The existence of life was inherently a process of the strong preying on the weak; the death of living beings was merely a link in the cycle... It was just that whenever he recalled it, it was still hard to let go.
‘Perhaps in the eyes of monsters and other living beings, humans look even more like monsters that eat anything. After all, humans rarely spare their own kind either.’
Ogre had witnessed party betrayals—the cause being nothing more than a bit of coin or a single potion.
The lives of commoners at the bottom were not as tranquil as imagined either; a single unforeseen disaster could leave a family living in perpetual dread...
“Little Ogre.”
Bringing over the food was Uncle Ba's daughter. Bearing no resemblance to the rugged owner, she was a beauty with no shortage of suitors—some said she was an orphan Uncle Ba had adopted, since no one had ever seen his wife.
“Thank you, Sister Nuosi.”
Ogre forced a faint smile, though under the effect of his disguise, it appeared a bit stiff. Fortunately, Nuosi and the others were already used to it, assuming Ogre simply had facial paralysis.
“I didn't order milk.”
Ogre paused slightly as he looked at the food, a faint warmth rising in his heart.
He actually didn't eat here often, coming only after battles to replenish his stamina and have a change of pace. Usually, he ate portable, high-energy rations.
“You're still growing, so eat more. Consider it a treat from your big sister.” Nuosi waved with a smile before disappearing into the back kitchen.
She and Uncle Ba enjoyed a fine reputation in this area; both the local mercenary bands and church personnel patronized and looked out for them tacitly due to their good character.
Over time, this place had become a safe haven for everyone, where all outside conflicts stopped at the door.
“These are probably the kind of good people Father spoke of...”
The deeper he integrated into human society, the more Ogre could sense the distinction between civilization and barbarism. Perhaps civilization was merely a cloak over barbarism, but it was precisely such a cloak that allowed more of these so-called good people to exist in a world where the strong preyed upon the weak.
Unity was the best survival strategy for the weak. Most people instinctively yearned for goodness in their hearts, but that goodness was often narrow, founded upon the subjugation of other races. It had always been this way.
Devouring two portions of food like a whirlwind, Ogre stretched his body, picked up his satchel, and set off on his way.
“Child, weakness doesn't necessarily invite enslavement or beatings, but that's only because the strong have chosen not to act. In this world, only one's own strength is the true principle. We cannot pin our hopes on the kindness of other races. Besides, someone has to do the work of slaves. If we didn't use slaves of other races, the ones enslaved might very well be people just like you and me...”
That clerical father patiently explained to his child why certain weak races could still exist, and why slaves of other races were still kept.
However, Ogre was already out of earshot.
As Ogre walked out, that cleric instinctively glanced toward the doorway.
“Was that an illusion?”
He had sensed a faint trace of a predator's aura from that young boy.
Rate on N.U.
