Wildness and Masks

"Father, what are friends?" the young Ogre asked his father curiously.

"Friends... hmm..."

Seeing his father fall silent, Ogre's wide eyes dimmed a bit—he hadn't expected that his knowledgeable father would also have something he didn't know.

"Ogre..." Ogre's father gently touched Ogre's forehead with his blue hand. After thinking for a while, he slowly shared his understanding: "Friends are those you can trust."

"Then are Ogre and Father friends?" the young Ogre asked, reaching out his small hand.

"Of course, Oggy. Not just me, you'll have other friends in the future, more and more friends..."

"Yay, Ogre loves friends the most!"

...

"Huff..."

The first ray of morning sunlight streamed through the window as Ogre opened his eyes.

"Friends, huh..." Recalling the dream he just had, Ogre smiled and shook his head.

He patted his forehead and muttered to himself, "Why did I fall asleep again? Is there something wrong with this meditation technique? Or is it me..."

Although practicing meditation can't completely replace sleep, reducing sleep to once every four or five days should be fine, as meditation effectively restores mental energy.

But ever since he switched to the Withered Tree Revival Meditation, things had been a bit off.

With this meditation technique, Ogre would fall asleep every time he practiced it.

From childhood to now, he had never had such good sleep quality, being able to have deep sleep for three or four consecutive days.

"Forget it... I can put aside meditation for now."

Ogre said as he stretched his body.

With a series of cracking sounds from his bones, Ogre exhaled a breath of stale air.

The ample sleep recently had indeed relaxed both Ogre's body and mind.

After stretching, Ogre went to wash up and changed his disguise.

Once he was dressed and ready, Ogre picked up the long spear wrapped in cloth—honestly, this thing was a bit too conspicuous in the city.

Ogre generally didn't like such conspicuous equipment.

But since Foucault gave it to him, he made do with it. If it's conspicuous, so be it, as long as the weapon is effective.

After all, there were plenty of people walking around with weapons.

When it came time to pick up the mask, Ogre paused, looking at the patterned mask he had cleaned of green blood.

Ogre rarely hesitated.

After a moment of hesitation, he skipped the mask that represented his identity and chose another multi-holed mask from the drawer.

"It's time to make a clean break from the Gourmet identity..."

Initially, Ogre chose to use a mask for a dual identity to make it easier to separate them.

Now it seemed like the right time.

In the black market and arena, the Gourmet identity had indeed reduced a lot of trouble for Ogre.

But in the coming days, Ogre would be teaming up with Foucault and the others.

So, it was time to adopt a new identity as a new disguise.

Anyway, Ogre wouldn't be going to the arena or black market for a while.

"Friends, huh..."

Ogre picked up the new mask and, for some reason, suddenly smiled.

Then, he put away the mask and walked out the door.

...

There was still time before the departure time agreed with Foucault and the others.

So Ogre decided to go out and grab something to eat first.

Strength doesn't come out of nowhere; once it's depleted, it needs to be replenished, especially for Martial Artists and Knights who consume a lot of stamina.

Eating more ensures lasting endurance.

If someone has a lot to do but eats little, it basically means they won't last long. Those who eat well often fight well.

"Ogre!"

"Ah, Foucault."

Ogre didn't expect to run into Foucault while out for a bite to eat.

"Good morning, Ogre. Didn't expect to see you here. Want to try some stargrass coffee?" Foucault casually offered another cup of the drink he was holding.

Seeing Foucault extend his hand, Ogre hesitated for a moment before smiling and accepting the paper cup drink.

Ever since the Church of Truth announced a cheaper way to make paper hundreds of years ago, paper cups had appeared in various taverns and drink shops.

"Good morning. Hmm... not bad, I haven't tried this drink before." Ogre unscrewed the lid, took a sip, and gave a fair assessment.

It had a taste of coffee mixed with milk, along with a strange refreshing flavor.

"I got it from a newly opened shop," Foucault explained.

"By the way, where's Lange?" Ogre looked around but didn't see him.

Come to think of it, the drink in his hand might have originally been intended for Lange...

Oh well, it's all the same.

"He's checking the mission details. He'll be here soon. You haven't had breakfast yet, have you?" Foucault asked.

"Yeah, not yet." Ogre usually had breakfast after warming up with a fight in the arena.

He liked to replenish after physical activity.

But since they were going on a mission, Ogre had to learn from the nobles and have breakfast first.

"Want to join me?" Foucault gestured with his thumb behind him.

"Sure." With the boss treating, Ogre naturally wouldn't refuse.

When it came to food, Ogre wasn't picky. After all, he was practically selling himself to Foucault for this period, so eating his food was quite justified.

"Let's wait for Lange inside," Foucault said, sipping his drink casually. During his days in the borderlands, his noble demeanor had become much more relaxed.

"Gentlemen, please come inside..." The doorman was surprisingly polite.

But once Ogre saw the interior decor, he wasn't surprised anymore—though he wondered how long this restaurant would last before going out of business.

"So, Ogre, what do you usually eat?" Foucault asked proactively after passing the doorman.

"Uh... bread and some meat, I guess."

When Ogre was young, the quality of food was hit or miss. As he grew older, his main diet consisted of fruits and the milk and dry bread his father brought back.

Later, when he gained some hunting skills, his food choices expanded.

After meeting Yard and becoming an apprentice to grow stronger, his diet naturally improved.

Generally speaking, Ogre preferred high-energy foods—like sugar and jerky.

In the borderlands, the city lacked many things, but not meat. After all, just outside was a natural hunting ground and pasture, and there was also the Empire's relief algae powder.

However, the resources of a region are ultimately limited. The appetite of Extraordinary Professionals is much larger than that of ordinary people, so according to the Church of Truth's statistics, to maintain resource stability, the number of professionals (including apprentices) in a region shouldn't exceed one-fiftieth of the ordinary population.

"Oh, right, since you're a Martial Artist (Apprentice)."

Foucault thought for a moment and, recalling the fruits Ogre ate, his mouth twitched slightly. He decided to order according to his own taste.

"Any dietary restrictions?" Foucault asked casually, picking up the menu.

"No, I'm not picky," Ogre replied, rubbing his nose.

As long as there's food, taste is secondary.

After all, Ogre had eaten raw food plenty of times.

"This, this, and this..." Foucault pointed out a few items to the server, confirming today's meal.

As they waited for the food, Lange arrived at the restaurant.