Wildness and Masks

As time passed, the climate in the borderlands gradually approached winter. Although it was still autumn, many commoners had already donned thicker clothing.

"Is winter coming soon..." Ogre murmured to himself as he watched the townsfolk passing by.

He wasn't lamenting the change of seasons but calculating the timing of the next beast tide.

The great cold wave occurred every two years, and by his reckoning, it was approaching fast.

"I need to remind Foucault and the others."

When the beast tide arrives, the entire forest and even the town will become dangerous.

At that time, villages have only two choices.

One is to hire professionals to help defend.

If they're lucky, they might also receive some assistance from the Church of Dawn.

The other option is to migrate into the town and pay to avoid the disaster.

Of course, if they have no money, hiding in the slums is also a viable option, as the Professional Association won't ignore them.

However, the real danger in the slums isn't the beast tide.

It's other humans.

'I guess someone is already watching me now...'

Ogre walked down the street.

He could sense many eyes on him, or rather, on the box he was holding.

He wasn't sure how many were watching, but he was certain they existed.

"I need to be careful... It seems I can't go out."

In the short term, as long as he didn't reveal his background, no one would directly trouble him.

But Ogre understood.

His current background was entirely fabricated.

It wouldn't be long before he would be exposed.

When that time comes, even if he doesn't leave the city, he will eventually be accused of some fabricated crime.

'This place is not a long-term refuge, nor is it my true home.'

Ogre sighed inwardly and quickened his pace.

His plans needed some adjustments.

He should minimize trouble as much as possible.

While he still had time, he should do what needed to be done.

...

It didn't take long for Ogre to reach his destination—the Church of Truth.

The Church of Truth held a significant position within the Empire, and even many nobles wouldn't dare cause trouble here.

Truth wizards stood above all.

That wasn't just a rumor.

No one knew the true depth of the Church of Truth's foundation.

But every time the most advanced creations emerged, they came from the Church of Truth.

And the history of the Church of Truth was even older than the rebuilt Engodo Empire. Even the succession of emperors required the approval of the Truth Squire (equivalent to the position of a pope).

It's said that the God of Truth still watches over this world.

Ogre wasn't sure about the truth of these rumors, but he knew this place was safe enough.

"I'm here to deposit money," Ogre said straightforwardly.

The Church of Truth also handled the most extensive storage business on the continent.

With branches all over the continent, storing assets with them was the most stable option. Not only nobles, but even elves stored their wealth there.

Their credibility was recognized not only by elves but also by those in the black market, who even prioritized accepting it.

With so much money on him, Ogre couldn't possibly carry it all. Converting it into a Truth receipt was the most convenient option.

"Card or receipt?" the receptionist asked routinely. Today's receptionist was a short-haired black-haired girl, not a stunning beauty, but she had a dignified presence.

The storage service area of the Church of Truth wasn't large, but it exuded a sense of order.

It's worth mentioning that this place also served as a newspaper and postal service.

The Church of Truth's business was arguably the most extensive on the continent.

The best-selling Dandelion Daily was one of its enterprises.

When Ogre first learned about the Church of Truth, he felt it wasn't what a church should be, but he couldn't quite pinpoint the problem.

In comparison, the Church of Dawn seemed too traditional.

"Receipt," Ogre placed the box of gold coins on the counter.

A card allowed for repeated deposits and withdrawals, while a receipt was for a one-time transaction. Clearly, a card was better.

But getting a card required Imperial identity verification, which Ogre didn't have—only nobles and certified professionals did.

Unverified professionals were all considered dangerous individuals.

The borderlands were lenient in this regard, but in inland cities, entering or leaving without identity verification meant being stopped and searched by guards.

Once confirmed as a professional without certification, they would be detained until certification was completed.

"A total of three thousand six hundred and fifty gold coins, quality verified."

The receptionist poured Ogre's box of gold coins into a strange box, and soon the count was determined.

This surprised Ogre a bit; he thought the receptionist would have to count them slowly.

But upon reflection.

These gold coins seemed to be issued by the Church of Truth... so having a method to verify them seemed reasonable.

Ogre had obtained a total of three thousand six hundred and fifty-two gold coins, and the reason for the two missing in the count was because Ogre had taken them when he left.

"Fee, deducted from inside or paid directly?" The black-haired girl at the counter looked up at Ogre.

As expected of staff from a major organization, they always maintained composure.

Ogre didn't speak, taking a gold coin from his pocket and handing it over.

The Church of Truth charged one gold coin for every transaction, regardless of the amount stored.

This was why Ogre had no trouble getting in.

Even nobles rarely came here frequently for transactions—small nobles didn't need it, and large nobles had spatial items.

Only some mid-sized nobles might come here.

If it weren't for the inconvenience of carrying the money and the high cost of spatial items, Ogre wouldn't have come here.

"Here is your receipt."

The black-haired girl took out a crystal badge, operated it on a magic array, and then handed it to Ogre.

This crystal badge was the receipt and also a low-cost, mass-produced magic item. The inscribed magic pattern could last at least thirty years.

This was one of the exclusive secrets of the Church of Truth.

A dandelion floated within the crystal badge.

This dandelion was constructed with magic patterns, and its fluff varied in color.

This represented the amount of gold coins stored in the crystal badge.

Ogre took a closer look and found that his dandelion badge had five orange fluffs, six yellow fluffs, and three green fluffs.

'Five, six, three, these should represent units of quantity. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, these seven colors represent seven units of quantity. I stored three thousand six hundred and fifty gold coins, which corresponds to orange, yellow, and green. So red might be single digits, meaning a badge can store up to a million gold coins? But that's quite a lot.'

Ogre glanced at it and understood its function.

He found the design quite interesting.

Using colors to distinguish measurement sizes maximized the use of magic patterns. Such a design could probably solve the measurement problem with just over seventy small magic patterns.

And it maintained aesthetics, worthy of being bought for a gold coin.

"Thank you," Ogre said instinctively as he put away the badge.

This thanks made the black-haired girl at the counter pause; she rarely saw anyone thank a receptionist.

Usually, when the fee of one gold coin was collected, people would look down their noses at them.

"N-no need to thank me." For a moment, the black-haired girl stuttered.

Ogre smiled at this; he hadn't expected the composed staff of the Church of Truth to stutter over a thank you.

But he didn't think much of it, just waved and turned to leave.

Depositing money was only the first step.

He had other things to do.

Leaving the Church of Truth, Ogre took out the silver badge given by Yard and glanced at it, then looked up at the tallest building in the city.

It was a clock tower.