Chapter 13 : The Unremarkable Traveler

At the far southeastern edge of Mist Valley, beyond the snow-covered Winter Mountains, lay the Toga Clan, a subordinate clan of the Salvador Clan.

The Toga Clan governed one of the busiest commercial cities in the west, hundreds of kilometers away from the mountains.

Its name was Clinton.

A prosperous and lively city, Clinton welcomed merchants from every corner of the continent.

Its broad stone streets crisscrossed between elegant Victorian-style buildings. Their tall windows reflected the afternoon sunlight, while noisy crowds filled every street with conversation and laughter.

Near the heart of the city, nestled between rows of crowded shops, stood a humble food stall.

“Hmm…”

A young man sitting at one of the wooden tables smiled with genuine satisfaction.

“This is delicious, Auntie.”

He appeared to be in his early twenties.

Black hair.

Brown eyes.

An utterly ordinary face—so ordinary that he could disappear into a crowd without anyone remembering him moments later.

The stall owner laughed warmly.

“Hahaha!”

“What a polite young man.”

“You can always ask for more.”

She waved cheerfully.

“Especially for a regular customer as kind and polite as you.”

The woman speaking…

was anything but ordinary.

Four eyes blinked independently across her face.

Several thick tentacles moved naturally from beneath her shoulders as she worked.

The strange creature wore a spotless white cooking apron. She turned toward the steaming pot and skillfully prepared another bowl of noodles.

Moments later, one of her tentacles gently placed the bowl in front of the young man.

A strange smile appeared on her face.

If she had been human…

it would have been incredibly kind.

The young man accepted the bowl without the slightest hesitation.

“Haha.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

“I’ve eaten noodles all over the world during my travels…”

He raised his chopsticks.

“…but your noodles have a flavor I’ll never forget.”

He smoothly took the bowl directly from one of her tentacles as though she possessed nothing but ordinary hands.

Then he returned to eating with enthusiasm.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

A sharp metallic ringing suddenly came from his belt.

The young man calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out an old yellow pocket watch.

All of its hands were perfectly aligned.

A few seconds later…

the ringing stopped.

Huh.

They dealt with it that quickly…

I put quite a bit of effort into that.

The young man quietly closed his pocket watch, a trace of disappointment on his face.

He was the Original Mage who had infiltrated the Caldar Continent years ago.

The very same troublemaker who had turned Maxwell into a cleaner…and a bomb disposal expert.

“…Looks like it’s time.”

He rose from his seat before finishing his meal.

Placing a fist against his chest, he bowed respectfully to the stall owner like a true gentleman.

“Thank you for the meal, Auntie.”

She chuckled softly.

“Hehehe. What a polite young man…”

“No need to thank me. It seems you have somewhere important to be.”

“Sorry, Auntie… but my boss is extremely demanding when it comes to time.”

The young man apologized in return.

“Hehehe.”

“Then just come visit us again sometime.”

She cheerfully waved one of her tentacles.

The young man smiled.

“I will.”

He returned the pocket watch to his coat, then left the stall and calmly made his way toward Clinton’s train station.

Moments after he disappeared into the crowd—

a small boy rushed toward the food stall.

“Mom!”

“Mom!”

“I’m hungry!”

The woman turned around with a helpless smile.

“Martin.”

“How many times have I told you to wait until I finish serving my customers?”

The middle-aged woman adjusted her white apron and gently furrowed her brows as she looked at her energetic son.

“But I’m really hungry!”

“Martin…”

He puffed out his cheeks.

“I want noodles!”

“The same noodles that my big brother with black hair was eating!”

She pressed two fingers against her forehead.

“All right…”

“But you have to sit quietly.”

“And you are absolutely forbidden from disturbing my customers.”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

“Yay!”

He jumped excitedly before rushing toward the nearest table.

His mother simply sighed.

Just another ordinary day.

After purchasing his ticket, the young traveler boarded a train bound for Kozala, the last major city before the Crimson Fortress.

Kozala was officially neutral territory.

The city was jointly governed by the three great western clans that guarded the Mist Rift, with additional oversight from the Continental Union.

Its unique location had turned it into one of the wealthiest cities near the border.

Monster corpses had become valuable resources.

Every successful hunt meant fortune.

As a result, mercenaries, adventurers, merchants, and craftsmen flooded into the city in search of better opportunities.

When the train finally arrived, the young man stepped onto the platform.

His first impression was immediate.

The city was much larger than Clinton.

But it was also noticeably less refined.

Elegant Victorian architecture had been replaced by sturdy medieval structures made of rough stone and wood.

Horse-drawn carriages rumbled noisily along uneven streets.

The atmosphere was harsher.

More practical.

But the biggest difference…

was the cleanliness.

No one expected a city whose economy revolved around slaughtering monsters to be particularly clean.

The young man calmly observed the bustling streets.

“This…”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“…actually feels more like home.”

“Perhaps I could live comfortably in a place like this.”

His gaze wandered through the crowds.

A monster with a skeletal head calmly drove a carriage through the market.

Nearby, a four-armed monster enthusiastically advertised blacksmithing tools.

The young man blinked.

“…How amusing.”

“A four-armed monster thinks it only has two arms.”

Elsewhere…

several monsters were loudly arguing, while another pair settled their disagreement with a fistfight.

He silently watched the bizarre scene before muttering:

“…Ignorance truly is bliss.”

“The fact that monsters possess intelligence and live like humans…”

He shook his head.

“…is a miracle in itself.”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“As expected of the Great Ruler, the Demonic Spirit.”

He left the crowded streets behind and headed toward the Mercenary Guild.

The organization worked closely with the clans, escorting supply caravans between Kozala and the Crimson Fortress.

After a few inquiries, he learned that the next caravan would depart in two days.

“All right.”

“I can wait.”

Traveling directly to the rift was not impossible.

He could fly there himself.

But ever since the Demonic Spirit had awakened, using power beyond the Fifth Rank was practically an invitation to death.

It would be no different from standing in the middle of the continent and shouting:

“I’m here! Come and kill me!”

So he waited.

Two days later, carrying nothing but his mercenary badge, he joined a supply caravan heading toward the Crimson Fortress.

The journey took an entire day and night.

Finally…

the towering fortress appeared before them.

It was the only gate connecting the neutral city to Mist Valley.

The moment the convoy passed through the fortress gates…

the young man stopped.

The atmosphere was nothing like he had expected.

Instead of tension…

there was celebration.

Soldiers laughed.

Mercenaries cheered.

Even the officers wore broad smiles.

Curious, he asked several people what had happened.

The answer was always the same.

The previous garrison had successfully completed its mission.

Not only would they receive rewards far beyond their expectations…

new contracts had already been issued.

But above all…

everyone excitedly repeated the same piece of news.

The Great Ruler himself had intervened.

According to every witness…

he had merely raised his hand…

and the sea of monsters had disappeared.

Wherever he went, the young man heard the same story.

The same admiration.

The same awe.

By the end of the afternoon, he felt as though his ears were about to explode from hearing the Great Ruler’s praises repeated over and over again.

Yet he had to blend in with the group.

And he did not have to wait long.

After Alexander ’s reorganization of the fortress, groups were sent out in batches to sweep the surrounding area and collect the monster corpses and anything else that could be salvaged.

The young man took advantage of the opportunity and volunteered.

A team of twenty-three people headed out.

The moment they left the fortress, they encountered a vast, barren expanse.

It looked as though a farmer had plowed the earth…

or a natural disaster had ripped away an entire layer of the ground.

Occasionally, they found corpses.

Sometimes only mangled pieces of flesh and bones.

They loaded whatever they could recover onto the carts.

After several hours, as they approached the fortress again, the young man quietly slipped away from the group.

He headed toward the Mist Rift.

No one noticed.

………

Late in the evening, it was time to return.

“Everyone!”

the captain called.

The group gathered.

The captain held a list of names and began calling them out.

“Simon…?”

“Present.”

“Nadia…?”

“Present.”

“…”

“…”

“Kavin…?”

“Present.”

“All right. Everyone is here.”

“It’s time to head back before darkness falls.”

Everyone gathered their belongings, loaded the carts, and began making their way back.

As they walked, the captain suddenly looked behind him.

He remained standing there for a moment.

Simon noticed.

“What’s wrong, Captain?”

“No… nothing.”

“I just feel like I forgot something.”

“Don’t worry, Captain.”

“Everyone carried all the important supplies onto the carts.”

“Unless you’re saying we somehow forgot a whole person and a bunch of supplies!”

“Hahaha!”

The captain smacked Simon on the head.

“Enough joking around.”

“More walking, less talking.”

The group continued their journey back toward the fortress.

As though nothing had happened.