Wildness and Masks

Chapter 38 – Those Little Things at Home

"The true shortcuts rarely appear before the majority. If I give up because it's difficult, it only proves I'm not qualified," Foucault said seriously as he turned around.

Seeing Foucault's serious demeanor, Ogre instinctively avoided his gaze. When he turned back, the seriousness on Foucault's face had already vanished.

"Let's finish today's tasks first."

Ogre didn't have such grand ideals; he just wanted to uncover the truth and return the harm to those who had bullied him.

Beyond that, he sought a way to bring people back to life.

"Let's go then," Foucault said, not continuing the discussion further.

He didn't expect to convince Ogre with just a few words.

However, in his view, as long as they took action, someone would follow—making the kingdom better had always been one of his ideals, but only recently had it gained some concrete direction.

If the Empire's prosperity couldn't reach everyone, then no matter how prosperous, it wasn't truly human prosperity.

Foucault felt that the Empire needed some changes, but he wasn't sure how to bring them about.

For now, all he could do was gather strength.

...

"Your efficiency is impressive."

The half-elf receptionist at the task handover point looked at the stacks of materials and the village commission stamps with an incredulous expression.

Clearing out four goblin nests in a row, along with solving a ghoul incident in a village, and still managing to gather some materials.

All of this was accomplished by just a few apprentices.

Even some real professional teams couldn't match this efficiency...

Well, of course, most of those professional teams wouldn't bother with these peripheral commissions.

"It's not that big of a deal," Foucault recalled, feeling that they hadn't encountered anything particularly troublesome along the way.

The slightly troublesome ghoul incident was resolved by Ogre after he dug up a few graves and asked around.

It was just a foreign race hiding in a human village.

Lange went over and killed it with a few sword strikes.

Although he didn't know exactly how Ogre managed it.

Considering that Ogre had studied at the Church of Dawn, it made sense.

"Here's your team's new badge and your task rewards," the half-elf receptionist said, understanding after taking a closer look at Foucault's attire.

She figured Foucault probably 'cheated'—she remembered this nobleman seemed to have some connection with a silver-level high-rank professional.

But what did it matter?

She was just a receptionist working for the guild, and as long as someone completed these piled-up commissions, it didn't matter how it was done.

"Thank you, ma'am," Foucault politely thanked her before storing the task rewards of gold coins and the points card into his void pocket.

These rewards were secondary to him; he was only concerned with his adventure team's rating.

"Foucault."

Just as Foucault was about to call Ogre and Lange to leave, a heavily armored knight called out to him.

"Uncle!" Foucault greeted the knight happily.

"Have you been on your own all these years, Ogre?" Lange paused slightly in his steps.

"Not entirely. I have a foster father, and in my heart, he's my real father," Ogre said, not caring about his own origins. To him, he had only one father.

"And your father?" Lange asked instinctively, regretting it as soon as he did.

With Ogre running around alone, wasn't it obvious where his father was...

"Dead, he died several years ago," Ogre's fists clenched a bit tighter under his sleeves, then he spoke as if it didn't matter.

"Sorry, Ogre," Lange apologized, a rare admission of fault.

Aside from his initial disdain for people from the borderlands, Lange was actually quite straightforward.

"It's okay, I'm used to it," Ogre said, stopping as he looked back at the distance to the Professional Association, "Let's wait for Foucault here; there's no one around."

"Okay," Lange agreed, realizing he had followed Ogre's lead for quite a distance.

"Ogre, how did you become so strong?" Lange tried to change the subject, asking about what he was most curious about.

"To survive better," Ogre replied succinctly.

"Thrandic told me you and he only trained for two years."

Whether a knight, martial artist, or mage, formal training usually shouldn't start too early, but Ogre began formal training at fourteen, which was a bit late.

In Lange's family, training typically started at twelve, and while his talent wasn't the best, it was far from mediocre.

Before meeting Ogre, he had been proud of his training progress.

"Thran told you that..." Ogre sighed involuntarily when he thought of Thrandic.

He still felt that Thrandic's injury was related to him.

"Sort of, but even before that (before meeting Yard), I did some informal training."

As Ogre spoke, he fell into memories.

'Father, it must be tiring to search for food outside...' Young Ogre asked his father, who wore a tired but smiling face.

At that age, he didn't understand much, and he would ask whatever came to mind.

In his memory, his father replied, 'Ogre, as long as you're waiting for me, I won't be tired.'

At that time, Ogre didn't understand the meaning behind it.

'But... Father, I don't want to see you bullied. I can go without candy, I can endure hardship, I want to go out with you...'

Ogre didn't understand his father's words, but he knew how to care.

'Silly child... wait until you grow taller than me,' his father said, gently patting Ogre's head, kindly refusing him.

Back then, Ogre's biggest wish was to grow tall.

Later, his wish was to become strong, and he would often run out to become stronger...

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His father would scold him then...

"Your foster father must be an outstanding martial artist," Lange assumed.

Ogre shook his head again, "He was great, always great in my heart, but I know he was just an ordinary person..."

Ogre gestured to Lange, "He was about this tall, because his back was always bent..."

'Father... Ogre has grown taller...'