Wildness and Masks

Ogre quickly set aside his work and followed along.

"Lord Yard." The passing believers and apprentice knight guards all made way for him.

Here, apart from the bishop, no one held a higher position than Yard.

"Don't mind me," Yard gestured with a wave of his hand.

As the two proceeded, they soon passed through the confessional in the rear hall and arrived in front of a small storeroom.

The walls of this storeroom, neglected for years, were overgrown with parasitic plants, with thin vines rooting deeply into the stone walls.

Several slender vine branches appeared vibrant under the window's light.

The dust stirred by the opening door seemed less decrepit in the sunlight divided by the branches.

Clearly, this place had some age to it.

'In a church being renovated, how can there be such an old place...' Ogre was unsure why Yard had brought him here.

But he felt that this Paladin must have something important to tell him.

"Ogre, how long until you come of age?" Yard stopped Ogre at the door, not allowing him to enter.

Perhaps he was worried about the dust dirtying Ogre, or maybe he didn't want Ogre to touch anything inside.

"About a year, I think." Ogre wasn't entirely sure of his birth date, only his approximate age.

The coming-of-age ceremony on the continent is held at seventeen, and he's at least sixteen now.

"Hmm, in the blink of an eye, you're almost an adult." Yard nodded, then said nothing more, instead rummaging through the piles of clutter inside.

After a short while, he emerged with an iron box.

"Ogre, if you're in pursuit of power, I have nothing more to teach you, but I have prepared a gift for you—originally intended for your coming-of-age ceremony, but it seems now might be a better time to entrust it to you."

Yard's voice, like his usual demeanor, was always calm and unhurried.

"A gift?" This long-forgotten word stirred something within Ogre.

He hadn't heard it in a long time.

He didn't quite understand why Yard was so kind to him, especially since he couldn't inherit his teacher's legacy...

"But before you receive this gift, Ogre, you must answer me one question."

Yard had observed Ogre for a long time. He didn't care where Ogre came from or what his past was, but there was one thing he had to care about.

"Teacher, go ahead. Even without a gift, I will answer," Ogre said earnestly.

He was serious, as long as it didn't involve his true secrets.

"Ogre, what do you think of mutants?" Yard's golden eyes fixed on Ogre, displaying for the first time the powerful aura of a seasoned Professional.

"I..." Ogre instinctively wanted to recite the standard answer from the Doctrine of Dawn.

But Yard emphasized, "I want the truth, your inner truth."

"I think there might indeed be some mutants who are kind..."

Ogre paused, recalling his father, then other demon beasts, and his father's warning: "But perhaps mutants who don't appear before humans are the best for humanity."

Ogre's answer was barely satisfactory.

"What if I were infected and became a mutant?" Yard asked.

"You..." This question caught Ogre off guard, but he quickly composed his response: "A person's soul doesn't change with their appearance; it's just a different form."

"No, child, you're wrong. The soul can be changed by stance and body. Very few remain unchanged by external factors. Many once believed in their willpower.

But the feeding instincts of the blood race, the bloodthirsty violence of werewolves, are inherent and hard to change. It's difficult to expect a dwarf not to covet wealth.

Perhaps initially, the infected won't be affected, but over time, the body will eventually taint the soul.

This is why the Doctrine of Dawn's stance on mutants and wizards is—leave none alive!

So, if I were infected, I hope you can personally, immediately! Kill me."

Yard patiently explained the influence of racial bloodlines.

But Ogre felt that things weren't so simple.

"Rare, but does that mean such people do exist..." Ogre cautiously probed.

If it was just to emphasize something already known, Ogre felt Yard wouldn't use this attitude.

"Ogre, you're smart, and that's indeed why I asked the question..."

Yard said as he wiped the dust off the iron box, and with a click—

The patterns on the iron box glowed faintly, and the mysterious box opened.

Inside was a piece of crimson flesh.

Remarkably, it was still wriggling!

"This is!" The moment the box opened, Ogre's body involuntarily craved it—a desire to consume.

'What on earth is this that makes me feel this way!'

Mind you, Ogre had just eaten not long ago.

"This is something that can help you become a Professional." Seeing Ogre's reaction, Yard closed the box again.

As the box shut, the hunger immediately ceased.

"For... for me?!" Ogre never expected such a precious and bizarre thing to be the so-called gift.

Since when was becoming a Professional so easy?

Why would such a strange thing be in the storeroom of the Church of Dawn?

At this moment, even the most oblivious person should realize—the gift might not be so simple.

"Yes, but it's only one choice." Yard then took out a badge from his pocket.

It was a silvery metal badge, engraved with thorns and flames—the insignia of the Church of Dawn's Knight of Discipline, and a high knight-level badge at that.

Ogre could also tell that the badge wasn't made of silver, but mithril—an extremely expensive transcendent material, usually used for crafting parts of magical devices.

But compared to the preciousness of the badge's material, the meaning behind it was even more significant.

"Teacher, what do you mean by this?" Ogre's knowledge wasn't enough to discern Yard's intentions.

"This is another choice. Take this badge, go to the tallest bell tower in the city, and give my name. Someone will teach you the path of imagery."

Yard placed the two choices before Ogre.

One was to consume the strange flesh and immediately become a Martial Artist, and the other was merely a vague promise.

"Teacher, I've never heard of anything that can make someone a Martial Artist directly..." Ogre didn't make a choice immediately but instead voiced his doubts.

It wasn't that Ogre could suppress his greed, but he simply didn't believe his relationship with Yard was that deep.

"To maintain caution in the face of temptation, I wasn't wrong about you, Ogre."

Yard rarely smiled, then he left the storeroom, closed the door, put away the two items, and led Ogre to a stone bench.

Though the storeroom was dusty, the stone bench outside was clean.

"Sit down." Yard sat on the bench and gestured for Ogre to sit beside him.

Once Ogre was seated, Yard began to explain: "The flesh I showed you earlier is called Tai Sui meat, something from the east. Consuming it can indeed make you a Martial Artist or even inherit the power of a Grand Martial Artist, and it can extend your lifespan.

But as a price—you will find it difficult to advance in martial arts, and your other transcendent paths will be cut off."

"That doesn't sound like a flaw..." Ogre was momentarily stunned.

He didn't think such a flaw could be called a flaw. Compared to the effects of Tai Sui meat, Ogre was more concerned about what creature it was cut from.

Such an outrageous thing, he had never even heard of.

If it could be mass-produced, wouldn't everyone in the east be a martial artist?

"Yes, that's not the real flaw of Tai Sui meat. The real flaw is the emergence of another personality after consumption..." Yard clapped his hands, sealing the box containing the Tai Sui meat.

"That's why some here call it—the forbidden potion of the east. If you truly choose Tai Sui meat for power, I can give it to you now, but from then on, you and I will have no further connection."

Ogre was silent for a few seconds before speaking: "I'm more interested in the other choice."

With the power of a Professional Martial Artist and the aid of equipment, perhaps he could deal with the Goblin King, but the subsequent Ogre Chief...

And the unknown Fire Mage, how would he face them?

Moreover, behind that Fire Mage, there was likely a complete team of Professionals.

Back then, he only heard the explosion, dreamed of flames related to his father's death, and couldn't determine how strong the enemy was.

The power of a Professional alone was far from enough.

The grudge of the village's destruction was great, but it couldn't compare to the father who raised him...

"That starts with the previous question..." Yard's eyes showed a rare hint of nostalgia.

"You mean, the person you want me to meet... was infected as a mutant." Ogre suddenly realized.

Yard turned his head—he didn't expect Ogre to react so quickly.

"You're right, Ogre. The person I want you to meet is a priest who was infected and became a blood race. Well... he's no longer a priest now."

With that, Yard sighed.

Ogre had never seen this dignified Paladin show such a side.

Then, a story began to unfold slowly in Yard's narration.