Wildness and Masks

After collecting today's payment from the arena, Ogre left.

As his reputation grew, fewer people dared to challenge him. Although the gold coins he earned per fight increased, the number of battles decreased.

Perhaps the apprentice-level pond was too shallow.

But come to think of it, even those rated as apprentice-level martial artists were not common among humans, which was quite different from what Ogre initially imagined.

On reflection, it made sense. Even the easiest martial artists to be rated as apprentices required training time and costs that commoners couldn't afford.

Not everyone could venture into the Demonic Beast Forest to earn money.

If not for the wealth left by his father and the abilities he possessed, Ogre would have found it difficult to become a martial artist apprentice.

Unfortunately, an apprentice is still an apprentice. Without becoming a Professional, he remains a mere mortal. Despite easily defeating apprentices, Ogre couldn't last even two rounds against a Professional.

Each profession has clear criteria for being rated as a Professional—

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A knight who has completed the Circle of Life interaction and fully activated their Battle Qi.

A martial artist who has achieved Three Qi Unity and developed vitality and rage energy.

A mage who has condensed their own Mana Core.

A wizard who has perfectly mastered Extraordinary Witchcraft Power by consuming a forbidden potion.

And an Imagist who has fully blossomed their Seed of Imagination.

These are all beyond Ogre's current reach...

"I still have a chance."

Ogre skillfully weaved through the streets. By the time he emerged, the aura he had in the arena was no longer visible. No one would suspect that this unremarkable boy was the strongest King of the Arena at the apprentice level.

He touched the meditation technique he had won, hidden within his disguise, and smiled.

His path as an Imagist might still have a chance.

The strength of an Imagist lies in the fact that once the Seed of Imagination is nurtured, one can almost certainly become a Professional.

Although Imagists are considered the weakest Professionals, even the weakest is still a Professional.

As long as one is a Professional, they are strong, they are noble!

In truth, if possible, Ogre would prefer to be a martial artist, as his innate abilities are more suited to assisting him in becoming one.

Of course, if the Imagist path fails, Ogre would have to seek a way to become a wizard through the black market...

***

"Look who's here, isn't it our little Oggy?" The restaurant owner greeted Ogre warmly. He liked this little guy in front of him: "Did you finish today's mural work?"

He was referring to the recent mural restoration work by the Church of Dawn, an area where Ogre had shown considerable talent.

Perhaps, if he performed well, he could stay in the church. Although the Church of Dawn wasn't as large as the Church of Truth, it was still a significant force.

Ogre shook his head, "I'm just about to go, Uncle Buck, but I need to eat first..."

If there were no hatred, he would also like to stay in the Church of Dawn and become a muralist or sculptor. He had loved drawing and stone carving since childhood, one of his few hobbies.

It's just a pity.

"Of course, you need to eat well to have energy. Do you want anything different, or the usual?"

"The usual, thanks, Uncle Buck." Ogre nodded, taking out the copper coins he had exchanged in a previous transaction from his bag.

After receiving a nod from the owner known as Uncle Buck, Ogre found an empty spot by the wall and began waiting for his meal.

In the meantime, he took out the replica of the meditation technique and began reading.

The meditation technique was wrapped in a cover of miscellaneous books, so there was no worry of it being recognized.

"Father, who are those statues?" The voice of a child at the next table reached Ogre's ears.

The word "father" stirred some memories in Ogre, causing him to glance slightly sideways.

"Those are the two Legendary Knights, Dusk and Dawn, who liberated the slaves thousands of years ago." The father was dressed in standard clerical attire.

It seemed he was also from another city.

'Recently, there have indeed been more people from other cities here.'

Ogre could keenly sense that something was about to happen in this remote small town of his...

Was it territorial expansion or a trade boom?

Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with him.

"But, Father, why do we still have slaves now if they were already liberated?"

"Those are Foreign Races, not humans..."

Listening to the father and son's conversation, Ogre couldn't help but clench his fist.

Foreign Races... Others, such simple rejection, cost his father his life.

But soon, he released his grip.

Because Ogre had to admit that conflicts between races always existed. If humans didn't send Professionals and armies to clear out Demonic Beasts and Foreign Races, they would invade humans.

Intelligent life and low-intelligence life are inherently unequal. Farming or resources, including the meat everyone eats, are all contested.

The existence of life is inherently a process of survival of the fittest. The death of life is just a part of the cycle... It's just that every time he recalls it, it's hard to forget.

'Perhaps, in the eyes of Demonic Beasts and other life forms, humans are more like omnivorous beasts, as humans often don't spare their own kind.'

Ogre had witnessed betrayal within a team—just for wealth or a bottle of potion.

He had also witnessed the lives of the lower-class commoners, facing the same dangers, living in constant fear...

"Oggy."

The one bringing the food was Uncle Buck's daughter. She looked nothing like the rugged owner, a beauty with many admirers—some said she was an orphan adopted by Uncle Buck, as no one had ever seen his wife.

"Thank you, Sister Norse."

Ogre forced a slight smile, though it appeared a bit stiff due to his disguise.

Fortunately, Norse and the others were used to it, assuming Ogre had a poker face.

"I didn't order milk."

Ogre was slightly surprised when he saw the food, feeling a bit of warmth inside.

He didn't come here to eat often, only after battles to replenish his strength and change his taste.

Usually, he ate portable high-energy food.

"You're growing, eat more, consider it a gift from your sister." Norse waved her hand with a smile and then disappeared into the kitchen.

She and Uncle Buck had a good reputation in the area. The local mercenary groups and church members would tacitly take care of them due to their usual conduct.

Over time, this place became a haven where all external conflicts would stop.

"Perhaps, this is what Father meant by good people..."

The deeper he delved into human society, the more Ogre could feel the difference between civilization and barbarism.@@novelbin@@

Perhaps civilization is just a veneer over barbarism, but it is this veneer that allows more so-called good people to remain in this survival-of-the-fittest world.

Unity is the best survival strategy for the weak.

Most people instinctively yearn for goodness, but this goodness is often narrow, established on the subjugation of other races.

It has always been this way.

After devouring two servings of food, Ogre stretched his body, picked up his bag, and set off on his journey.

"Child, being weak doesn't necessarily mean being enslaved or beaten, but that's only because the strong don't want to act. In this world, only one's own strength is the true principle. We cannot place our hopes on the kindness of other races. Besides, someone has to do the work of slaves. If we don't use the slaves of other races, then those enslaved might be people like you and me..."

The clerical father patiently explained to his child why some weak races could exist and why there were still slaves among Foreign Races.

But all this, Ogre could no longer hear.

As Ogre left, the clerical father instinctively glanced toward the door.

"Was it an illusion?"

He sensed a hint of a predator's aura in that young man.

Proofreader & Editor: Peter Pan