Wildness and Masks

After eating their fill, it was time for the exhausting task journey.

With Ogre intentionally holding back, Lange got a taste of the hustle and bustle.

In the successive battles, both Foucault and Lange's combat awareness improved slightly.

"It's hard to imagine how ordinary apprentice professionals make a living from these commissions."

After a busy half-day, Lange sighed.

The income from some task commissions was not even as much as their meal.

"This was never meant to be a place for nurturing people," Ogre said, wiping the long spear he had scorched and painted black.

The Professional Association was never a charity.

"No wonder there are so many piled-up commissions," Foucault remarked, lowering his hand.

In front of him were several slimes he had killed with magic. The slime's mucus was also a side target in this task's collection process, which could more or less increase their contribution value.

"All the good tasks have been taken, leaving only the dirty and tiring ones."

Ogre slung the long spear wrapped in cloth over his back and switched to his trusty little hammer—while the spear looked impressive, the hammer was more efficient for killing.

The spear was cumbersome, so he switched.

As for the sleeve sword equipped on Ogre's left hand, it was completely unused because the mechanism was broken.

He discovered it was damaged during adjustments last night.

It seemed to have been short-circuited...

"Alright, just treat it as training. It's good to adapt to this kind of life. If you can't handle these small tasks, don't even think about anything else."

After spending most of the day with Ogre, Foucault also developed some insights into outdoor living and combat precautions.

"For a normal long-term adventure team, being out for half a month is quite normal. Actually, our efficiency isn't low. If it weren't for the need to quickly level up, there are still quite a few worthwhile tasks—like bodyguard missions or bounty tasks."

Ogre explained, looking towards the depths of the forest.

In fact, the money they earned from commissions was enough to maintain a decent life for ordinary city dwellers, even allowing for a comfortable living.

But to gain more resources and advancements, that was asking too much. Most demon beasts were the kind that, after being killed, offered little to no benefit—like the pile of broken wood and rusty iron tools on goblins, which couldn't even be sold and had no taming value.

Only the meat of certain demon beasts and adult demon beasts that could condense magic cores were valuable.

But demon beasts that could condense magic cores were as strong as a quasi-professional. Every demon beast that could grow and condense a magic core had been naturally selected.

Such windfalls were not something ordinary adventurers could obtain. Even if they were lucky enough to encounter one, they had to worry about losing it or being robbed on the way back.

If they hunted demon beast meat of great value, it might even attract other demon beasts to plunder.

This was why Ogre ultimately chose to leave the environment of the Demon Beast Forest, come to a human town, and eventually join the arena.

"Looks like I was being naive," Foucault chuckled bitterly. His original plan was to complete it within a few months.

"That's why it's not recommended to join an adventure team at the apprentice stage," Ogre said with a smile, shaking his head. "Most professionals are trained. There are very few adventurers who start out at the apprentice stage and make it far."

What Ogre said was indeed true—the powerful adventure teams were mostly composed of professionals who graduated from academies or churches.

Professionals who started out at the apprentice level either died in the forest or wasted time, ultimately achieving limited success.

A person's energy is ultimately limited.

"Ogre, you're wrong. Didn't the Dragon Slayer Knight start as an apprentice adventurer and fight his way to become a legend?" Lange retorted.

Professionals at the bronze level were referred to as seasoned professionals.

Above seasoned professionals were silver-level professionals, known as high-rank professionals.

Above high-rank professionals were those with golden badges—these professionals were called quasi-legendary professionals.

Ogre knew nothing about professionals at this stage—he only knew they were powerful and formidable, a level he couldn't reach.

But above the golden badge, there were even more powerful professionals—legendary ones.

As the name suggests, their existence was a living legend!

Their deeds spread throughout the Empire, possessing power equivalent to a king, representing the pillars of the Empire.

"Dragon Slayer Knight..." Ogre had naturally heard of this famous knight.

"Who knows, but after all, there's only one Dragon Slayer Knight," Ogre neither refuted nor acknowledged.

He had long passed the age of getting fired up by a story.

He knew there were many things in this world that couldn't be obtained through effort alone. Some resources and secret techniques were forever out of reach for commoners.

Achieving legendary status through sheer effort...

To Ogre, it was like a joke.

He understood better than anyone how difficult this path was.

Ogre's words made Lange choke up. He also knew that what made a legend legendary was its nearly unreplicable path.

Lange just didn't like Ogre's pessimistic attitude, so he retorted, "You're right, Ogre... there's only one knight who can be called a Dragon Slayer."

"Alright, Lange, don't overthink it. Just focus on doing your best," Foucault patted Lange's shoulder armor in comfort.

He knew Lange was just having a hard time accepting the fact that he was doing something futile.

"I'm not belittling those apprentice-level adventurers," Ogre shook his head and continued, "I just want to tell you that mediocrity is the life most of us lead here..."

No one wanted to be trapped in the mire, but family, background, talent, and mindset were all shackles that bound people.

"For you, this is just training, but for many apprentices with poor talent and background, this is already the best outcome they can pursue—compared to those who died without a trace."

Ogre hadn't intended to say this to Lange and Foucault, but in the end, he couldn't hold back.

"Yes, so if people like us don't take the lead to change things... then no one will," Foucault said, as the autumn wind brushed through his hair, even the falling leaves avoided him...

It was only at this moment that Ogre realized Foucault's determination might not be just a passing thought.

"This has been the rule since ancient times, survival of the fittest..." Ogre, who came from the Demon Beast Forest, understood the cruelty of the jungle law better than most.

Human civilization was indeed better than the jungle law.

But in essence, nothing had changed.

It was still an elimination system, still 'dog-eat-dog,' with only a few paths for advancement. For ordinary people at the bottom to rise, it was truly difficult.

Being born as an elf's offspring or a goblin's offspring, how could that be the same...

"Ogre, you're really pessimistic," Foucault said confidently, spreading his arms to embrace the last rays of the sunset. "Is what has been since ancient times necessarily right? The ancestors of humanity achieved our current civilization through struggles, not by surrendering. I believe humanity will find a better path!"

"Young master, I believe in you!" Lange resolutely stood behind Foucault.

Seeing this, Ogre just smiled again, "Time will tell me the answer. I wish you success, Foucault. You're really different from the nobles I've met before."