De Fa

When Perna saw that Glen was attempting to climb through the window, she screamed, "Ah! Get away! Don't touch here! Get down from the carriage! It smells awful!"

"Outrageous! Butler! Butler!" The noblewoman inside the carriage widened her eyes in shock, a rare hint of panic in her voice. "Quickly, pull this audacious commoner out of here!"

A slightly chubby, mustached butler jumped down from the front of the carriage and rushed over to grab Glen by the pants, pulling him with force.

As Glen felt his pants loosen, he decided to stop playing around. He let himself fall off the carriage with a thud, sitting down on the ground and bursting into laughter, clutching his stomach.

The butler's face turned bright red with anger. Seeing Glen laughing on the ground, he raised his fist, ready to strike.

However, a voice came from the carriage, a calm yet commanding tone, "Hopes, forget about him. Let's go home."

The butler reluctantly glared at the rolling-on-the-ground commoner and returned to the carriage, driving it away.

Inside the carriage, the noblewoman returned to her calm, composed demeanor. She turned to glance at her daughter, who had puffed up her cheeks and raised her nose in indignation, looking like a spoiled child. "Stop making such ungraceful faces, Perna. You're a noble; you must always be mindful of your behavior."

"Alright, mother," Perna grumbled, though she still looked quite upset.

After laughing for a while, Glen wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up, brushing himself off before continuing on his way.

As he entered the outskirts of Beyek's forest, he noticed a cloud of dust rising in the distance. Glen grinned, knowing it was the Night Howler.

Sure enough, with a gust of wind, the massive one-eyed creature of the Night Howler slammed into Glen's face.

Glen shoved the beast's large face away, then walked past it, asking casually, "How's the pig-feeding going? Any problems?"

"Awoo!" The Night Howler puffed out its chest proudly, signaling that everything was fine.

"That's good," Glen nodded. "Let's go check on the pig pen."

As the Night Howler had claimed, there was no issue with the pigs. However, the straw in their pen had been scattered all over the place, making it appear very untidy.

Glen said nothing about the mess, content that the beast was doing its job.

They continued to another pen, this one holding the creature that looked like a moose—an animal Glen had been unsure of how to handle.

"Hm… it feels like a shame to slaughter you, though. You're about the size of a horse, I wonder about your strength? How about... I let you pull a cart next time?" Glen stood in front of the pen, talking as if to the animal but also thinking aloud.

The moose-like creature walked up to the fence, clearly thinking Glen had come to feed it, unaware of what he was saying. Glen gently petted its head before turning around and heading towards the town.

As he entered the town, Glen spotted a hunched figure in gray clothes walking slowly ahead. This was a villager Glen—or rather, his former self—had encountered before. It was an elderly woman who had ignored him when he tried to start a conversation with her. After that, the previous Glen had simply stopped trying to speak to her, unconsciously following the town's tradition of avoiding contact.

Glen paused for a brief moment before continuing forward, passing the old woman. As he did, her eyes darted toward him.

With his keen senses, Glen immediately noticed the shift, but he didn't react outwardly, continuing on his path.

That gaze followed him until he entered his house. Glen paused at the door and rubbed his chin, pondering, Did that old woman sense something? Does she know I'm a werewolf? It's very possible...

Chewswino Town.

Being closer to the region's main city, this town was larger and more prosperous than Dud. It was home to a club focused on magic studies, and in one of its mysterious rooms, an old man dressed as a hunter entered, parting the curtains.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time, Bol," a woman with a dignified, graceful appearance, dressed in an exquisite mage's robe, said as she put down her book. Her voice had a magnetic, soothing quality.

"Good day, esteemed Lady De Fa," the old man bowed slightly, offering his respects.

"Judging by your expression, you've run away again?" Lady De Fa's voice carried a hint of helplessness.

"Don't ask if you already know the answer," the old man, called Bol, sat down on a nearby couch, rummaging through his bag as he spoke.

"Such a pity..." De Fa's eyelids lowered slightly, showing a trace of fatigue.

Bol placed several crumpled sheets of parchment on the table in front of De Fa, saying, "These are yours. I've already done the calculations. The spells and arrays that won't work are all recorded."

De Fa glanced at the papers without much interest and then turned to look at something to the side. "Bol, I suggest you let go of this. I deeply regret what happened to your family, but one can't live in hatred forever…"

"I choose to live in hatred. It's my decision," Bol interrupted her, his tone firm. "You, as a mage, haven't experienced the loss of family. You can say that so easily."

De Fa sighed deeply.

"No matter what, I still thank you for helping me find the location of my enemies. I mean no disrespect," Bol added, his voice softening.

"We're old friends; this is nothing," De Fa waved her hand lightly.

After this exchange, Bol fell silent, and after a few moments, he spoke again. "That person has a fourth-level dark mage by their side."

"What?!" De Fa's eyes widened in disbelief. She looked at Bol, her voice full of incredulity, "A fourth-level dark mage? How could there be one? This..."

She seemed lost in thought for a moment, her mind racing. "Dark mages of the fourth level are supposed to be in the royal capital. How could one have ended up in such a remote place?"

"I don't know," Bol shrugged. "But that person is likely a dark mage who just fell from grace. The spells they cast still have traces of legitimate magic."

De Fa's expression grew more serious. "Maybe I should look into recent disappearances of fourth-level mages."

She studied Bol with curiosity. "How did you escape when you encountered a fourth-level dark mage? That's not something just anyone can handle…" She glanced pointedly at his chest, implying there was no way his injury could have been dealt with by ordinary means.

Bol chuckled lightly. "I hired someone strong."

"Someone who can fight a fourth-level mage?" De Fa's curiosity grew. "Where did you find them? The price must have been steep."

"A bothersome kid. At first, I didn't even know what he could do… He didn't fight against the fourth-level mage. He killed him."

"Killed him?!" De Fa's jaw dropped in shock.

Bol gave a low laugh. "Although the fourth-level mage didn't use all their power, they were still stronger than a typical fourth-level mage."

De Fa was stunned, her expression one of pure amazement, as she sat in silence for a moment.

"As for the price…" Bol finally broke the silence. "I gave him twenty silver coins."