Wildness and Masks

"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.

It was his uncle, Leidy Chromie.

"Everything went smoothly, little Foucault," Leidy could clearly sense that his nephew seemed different.

It must be the recent tasks that had honed him.

"It went very smoothly, Uncle," Foucault waved to Ogre and Lange, who were sitting in the waiting area drinking water.

"Lord Leidy," Lange approached and immediately prepared to bow in a knightly salute, as was the respect a low-rank knight should show a high-rank knight.

"Lange, there's no need for such formalities," Leidy placed a hand on Lange's shoulder, stopping his salute.

"Uh, Uncle Leidy?" Ogre wasn't sure how to address the high-rank knight in front of him.

When he had sought out Foucault earlier, there was no one else around, so calling him uncle was fine.

But now, with Foucault present, any form of address felt a bit awkward.

"Ogre..." Leidy stared at Ogre for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter, "Thank you for taking care of Foucault these past few days. These two kids didn't give you any trouble, did they?"

Ogre waved his hands repeatedly, "No, no, with Foucault and the others as teammates, it was much easier for me."

At this moment, another question arose in Ogre's mind.

He realized that Leidy didn't seem to have come specifically for Foucault; rather, Foucault seemed to be an afterthought.

A high-rank professional... coming all the way from the interior to the borderlands, what was the purpose?

Foucault almost slapped his forehead, "Uncle, no matter what, I wouldn't be a burden."

"Hahaha, I was worried you wouldn't adapt to the borderlands environment, but seeing you, I'm relieved," Leidy said, patting Lange and Ogre on the shoulders before making his request, "There are some things I need to discuss with Foucault alone..."

Lange and Ogre exchanged a glance and then tactfully stepped out.

"Uncle?"

Foucault was a bit puzzled, but he wasn't foolish enough to argue with his elder.

"You two wait outside for a bit," Leidy assured them before pulling Foucault into his private resting room.

"Is this how it always is with your noble families from the interior?" Ogre asked curiously as they walked out.

He wouldn't have asked such a question in the past, but now that their relationship had improved a bit, Ogre felt it was okay to ask.

"How would I know, I'm just a knight from a subordinate family of the Chromie Family," Lange replied, indicating that he was just a low-ranking member of a noble family.

Unlike mage families, in knight families, those who didn't inherit a title or receive honors often had no status, especially since he was just a bastard son.

If he had any status, he wouldn't have ended up as a squire.

Knights didn't necessarily have to start as squires.

"Alright," Ogre replied, not pressing further. He wasn't that curious about the affairs of these great noble families.

He was just concerned, and if he could understand, great; if not, it didn't matter.

"By the way, Ogre, aren't you the descendant of an exiled noble?" Lange asked, curious.

He had learned a bit about Lange's background from Foucault.

Ogre nodded, then shook his head, speaking openly, "My parents died when I was very young, so I don't really know what my status is. But since I have neither knight nor mage qualifications, I probably wasn't a noble's child."

Through generations of intermarriage and selection, noble offspring were often either knights or mages, and they usually had good qualifications. The larger the family, the more this was true.

If the probability of a commoner having professional qualifications was one in a thousand, then the likelihood of a noble's legitimate offspring having transcendent qualifications was almost guaranteed.

Illegitimate children were an exception.

"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...

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...'