Vogar picked up the old man’s blade lying nearby, intending to end the boy’s miserable life. Looking at Momo’s deranged expression, he did not believe the child could be changed. This was the one who had lured them here, poisoned them, and even processed that sickening "venison".

  “Wait. Spare him. He is only a child.”

  Mira could not bear it. She lunged forward and clutched Vogar’s arm, hoping he would let go. Vogar became conflicted, his resolve beginning to waver. Facing Mira’s beautiful face filled with pleading, he could not bring himself to disappoint her. He stole a glance at Thane and saw only calm indifference. Thane paid no attention to Mira’s nagging pleas. He merely fixed Vogar with a cold stare, as if telling him, "do it".

  Vogar clenched his teeth. In the end, he still threw the sword aside. Between Mira and Thane, he chose Mira. Seeing Vogar’s cowardly action, Thane was truly disappointed. He had hoped that one day they might stand beside him, become those he could trust, become his companions on the path of a hero. That did not mean Thane would forgive Momo. Both the boy and the old man had to pay for what they had done. Thane walked slowly toward Momo. The child was still frenzied like a wild beast, his eyes dark red and brimming with brutality.

  “Die,” Thane murmured. He swung his massive sword down amid Mira’s screaming cries.

  “Why did you do this, Thane? Damn it, he was only a child. We could have just captured him and handed him over to the Adventurers’ Guild. How could you be so cruel, Thane?”

  “Shut up,” Thane roared in irritation.

  The look he gave Mira was as cold as if she were an enemy. People like her could only bring harm to their companions. If not for her curiosity and thirst for excitement, they would never have ended up in this situation. If Thane’s body had possessed even a trace of mana, they would all be dead.

  Thane coldly slapped Mira hard across the face, leaving her cheek swollen. The burning pain made her burst into tears. Vogar did not stop him. He could only hold Mira tightly, looking at Thane with difficulty. Under normal circumstances, he would have protected her, but at this moment even Vogar believed they were the ones at fault. He had no right to blame Thane.

  “Hmph. You two, follow me.”

  Thane led them back to the wooden house of the old man and his son. They entered the kitchen, where a set of steps led up to the attic. Thane climbed up as if searching for something, then let out a satisfied “oh.” He came back down and told Mira and Vogar to go up as well.

  They said nothing, only exchanged confused glances, but still obeyed and went up one by one. The moment they reached the attic, both froze at the scene before them. It was truly horrific, a genuine hell on earth. There stood a rack filled with skinned “venison,” the entrails already removed. Roughly ten carcasses were lined up neatly and carefully.

  Vogar clenched his fist so hard his nails dug into his flesh until blood seeped out. He could see that among the deer were fawns as well. He was overwhelmed with regret for his own cowardice. If he were given another chance, he would not hesitate to bring the sword down. Mira was so terrified she retched violently. It was the second time she had vomited that night, and this time she even vomited blood. Vogar quickly supported her and helped her down to the floor, his gaze toward Thane filled with admiration mixed with a trace of fear. He knew they now belonged to two different worlds. This journey had been both the first and the last. Thane was destined to become a great existence, one they could only look up to.

  The next morning, they set out again. They crossed the Emerald River on a small boat. With only a few more hours of travel, they would reach the Howl Plains and arrive at their destination, the BloodClaw Fortress, before nightfall.

  Last night had been a severe ordeal for Mira. The once lively girl had grown quiet and despondent. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and one cheek was badly puffed up. She did not dare look Thane in the eye. She felt deeply guilty, yet she did not regret it, because she truly could not bring herself to act.

  “Hey, Thane. I… I’m sorry,” Mira whispered her apology." Her judgments that night had truly been unfair to him. No matter how it was viewed, Thane was the one who had saved all their lives.

  Hearing this, Thane sighed. He rested his chin on his hand and watched the boat glide gently across the deep green waters of the Emerald River. He had no intention of blaming Mira. In the nightmares of his past with Exitus, there were times when even he could not bring himself to strike. Thane suddenly smiled.

  “Why apologize? You were not wrong. There is no right or wrong when you have no choice.”

  Thane tossed a small stone into the river. It skipped lightly across the surface before finally sinking into the vast depths. The boat drifted farther away. The ripples created by the stone gradually faded, and the river returned to its original calm. Clear jade colored water flowed gently beneath the warm sunlight.

  At the bustling market of One Island, the island closest to the Macarnis continent within the Three Island archipelago, interspecies trade flourished. This was not a place for humans alone. Towering Orcs roamed the streets, sinister Trolls lurked among the stalls, noble Elves walked with aloof grace, and even greedy Dwarves could be seen haggling loudly.

  In the Varius Market, at a small perfume stall owned by a Night Elf, a purple haired girl was locked in a heated argument with the shopkeeper over the price of a product. More specifically, a bottle of pungent perfume. The two women hurled insults at each other without pause, while Mulock watched with complete indifference. If Shelley were not still useful to him, he would not bother standing here waiting.

  “Are you insane? One bottle of perfume and you dare ask for two silver coins? Since when did money become that easy to earn?” Shelley shouted angrily.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  She had no money on her and could only borrow from Mulock. The pirate naturally agreed without hesitation, though the interest rate was truly terrifying. Shelley had no other choice. She was addicted to heavy scents and could only grit her teeth and borrow one silver coin, incurring a debt of ten silver in return.

  “How utterly vulgar and despicable, you humans. Do YOU even know what kind of perfume this is?” the Night Elf sneered. “It is made from Flos flowers that grow in the freezing Sanguis mountain ranges. I spent a fortune importing it from those greedy Trolls. Naturally the cost is not cheap.”

  She wore a tight, alluring outfit. Her healthy dark brown skin and shimmering violet eyes stood out, while her pointed ears twitched beneath long black hair that cascaded down her back, making her strikingly beautiful. However, in stark contrast to her appearance, she revealed herself to be a true market brawler, constantly spewing profanity in the human tongue.

  “Damn it all. Buy it or get lost. If you are not buying then get the hell out.”

  Shelley’s face flushed red with anger. As a writer, she was naturally no match for the Night Elf in a verbal brawl. She turned to leave, but after catching a whiff of the salty stench of the sea clinging to her body, she had no choice but to turn back and speak again.

  “Fine. Two silver it is. Sell me half a bottle.”

  Shelley dabbed two drops of perfume onto her fingers and thrust them deep into her nostrils, inhaling hard. A wave of satisfaction flooded her body. She felt as if she had come back to life. Unwilling to use it carelessly, she tucked the bottle deep into her clothes, holding it close like a precious treasure.

  “There is no need to look so regretful. Once the mission is done, I will make sure you are properly paid,” Mulock said quietly from the side. Though he was a brute, he was a man who kept his word. Mulock did not do meaningless things. He acted with purpose, and every life he took had its own justification. At least, that was how he saw it.

  “Hmph. Do you think I care about your few silver coins of payment? The Witter is not that poor. Once this mission is finished, I want to return to Hesmor.”

  Shelley suddenly thought of the young king Aster. Spending each day by his side was not so bad. Sometimes, watching him work attentively at his desk, she would find herself thinking that the boy was rather handsome, a bit weak perhaps, but undeniably intelligent.

  “Hesmor? If the news about the Enestone turns out to be false, then I will have to go back and settle accounts with that arrogant old Jacor.”

  They left the Varius Market and headed toward a place known as the Freak Show. It was a slave trading district infamous for its bizarre and deformed individuals, outwardly grotesque yet hiding terrifying potential. Most of Mulock’s crew had been bought out from this very place. The Freak Show resembled a genuine circus. Red tents filled the area, with strange figures standing outside in grotesque clown makeup. Some juggled objects, others twisted their bodies atop a single wheeled bicycle.

  The gatekeepers seemed to recognize Mulock. They bowed and blew comical trumpets, opening a path for him deeper into the tent of the circus master. Mulock knocked on the door in a secret rhythm. The door swung open, and from within came a shrill, eerie voice belonging to the owner of the circus.

  “What is this? You are early, Mulock. The last batch I sold you was all quality stock. The Mulock Pirate Crew, you say? More like a suicide pirate crew.”

  The ringmaster was a fat man, dressed as a clown in a white costume with an enormous red nose. He bared a mouthful of pitch black, razor sharp fangs and unleashed a torrent of curses at Mulock.

  “Shut your damn mouth, Smiley. I came here this time for a big deal. Have you heard of Fallen Island? I need seven people. No, six will do.” Mulock placed a large bag of gold on the table, making the clown beam with delight.

  “Always the familiar number eight, as usual, Mulock. But no matter. You came at just the right time. My damned little brother just sent over a batch of extremely high quality slaves. The modifications turned out far better than expected. Seems he is experimenting with some cursed weapon or another.”

  The clown coughed, then lowered his voice. He shoved his hand deep into his throat and pulled out a pitch black key. Then he suddenly became like a mime, inserting the key into an imaginary keyhole in the air.

  Click. Click. Click.

  A strange, grotesque door appeared, bearing the enormous face of a clown. The key slid into a small hole on the door. As the clown turned it, the mouth of the face slowly opened, revealing a shimmering, multicolored vortex within.

  The clown bowed once more, his grin stretched impossibly wide.

  “Welcome, dear guests, to the freeeeeak Shooooow. Ha ha ha ha. Waaaaaaaa. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

  His warped laughter merged with the laughter of the clown face on the door, forming a maddening, haunting cacophony. The door opened its mouth wide and swallowed Mulock, Shelley, and the ringmaster whole before vanishing.

  They reappeared in a deep purple space, spinning amid shattered and distorted images. It felt like the hallucination of someone high on drugs. This was the true Freak Show.

  Clowns danced around red tents. Clowns flew through the air. Creatures with twisted, fused bodies juggled the skulls of other clowns. Everything was chaotic, illogical, and paradoxical. Even the trees were clowns. The circus beasts were clowns as well, all laughing madly, mouths split wide to their ears.

  Shelley felt dizzy at the sight. Even as an Archmage with powerful Will, the chaos of this place still made her nauseous.

  “Your Will is rather weak. You should train it more. It is only an illusion,” Mulock said, then turned to the ringmaster. “Enough fooling around. You know I am deaf, right.”

  Mulock pointed at his ear. Naturally, once he severed the connection to the puppet’s ears, he could hear nothing at all. Fundamentally, Mulock was merely the red parrot perched on the puppet’s shoulder.

  Shelley suddenly realized it. Yes, it was the ringmaster’s laughter. She quickly covered her ears, but the sound seemed to pierce straight through her flesh and echo within her mind. Shelley was terrified. This place was certainly connected to Ti in some way. Perhaps it was even the inspiration that allowed King to create it.

  “Always so serious, as usual, Mulock.”

  The laughter stopped. Everything vanished. The purple scenery remained, but the space was no longer warped or spiraling. The clowns she had seen were now nothing more than ordinary trees and birds.

  “A mental type mage,” Shelley whispered in fear as she looked at Smiley.

  Mental mages could manipulate, hypnotize, and control the minds of their victims. Smiley’s laughter was a transformed manifestation of Will. Will was invisible and intangible, which was why she could not block it simply by covering her ears. She needed to use her own Will to resist it.

  Smiley snapped his fingers. A giant mushroom burst out of the ground, its cap bearing a door and a small window above it.

  “All right, in you go,” Smiley said, once again unlocking the door with that strange key. Wherever the key was inserted, a keyhole would form.

  The door opened, and they were transported to another space. A dark corridor lined with rows of prison cells. Inside were bound grotesque, deranged figures. Some were eating their own flesh. Some were gouging out their own eyes. Others sat calmly, silently observing them.

  “This time I need a few strong ones. Minds not too far gone. At the very least, stronger than an ordinary Battle King.” Mulock rubbed his hands together. He was rather excited about this shopping trip. If luck favored him, he might find a powerful Ability to seize for himself.