Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Forest Village (2)
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[Chapter 77 - Forest Village (1)]
The Dull Forest, now freed from its magic, took on a dreamlike appearance.
The trees still blocked out the sunlight, leaving it as dim as early evening, but a hazy light from somewhere illuminated the path.
Thanks to the sun filtering through bit by bit, vibrant plants Arsen had never seen before sprouted between the trees, forming thick underbrush.
And astonishingly, the foul metallic stench that had constantly turned his stomach ever since crossing into the west had vanished.
It meant the toxic miasma—the barrier that kept frail commoners confined to their territories and citadels—was gone.
"Smells nice..."
"Yeah. Never thought I'd say that about the outdoors."
Ordinary territories or citadels rarely had such dense forests, making it hard to feel like you were in a botanical garden.
Outside the territories, the disgusting miasma made it unthinkable anyway.
Arsen just thought of it as enjoying a rare treat, but the others seemed entranced by a sight they'd never even imagined.
As the half-dazed group pressed on, new creatures began to emerge around them.
Rabbits, deer, foxes, crows... small, weak animals that were hard to spot in the wild due to powerful magic beasts, along with magic beasts of similar caliber.
"Oh, look—a snowflower fox over there."
"That thing's a treasure."
A few soldiers made a fuss as a fox with pure white fur vanished into the brush.
Reno barked at them in a loud voice.
"Don't get distracted by weird stuff. Keep your eyes on the perimeter!"
Arsen nodded approvingly as they snapped back to vigilance, then stared at the floating light ahead.
The light guiding their path adjusted its speed to match the group's pace—speeding up or slowing down accordingly.
Like a quest marker in a game.
Eloise reached out toward the light and asked,
"Is this an illusion too?"
"Who knows, maybe."
Since the forest they'd just conversed in had been an illusion as well, Arsen wondered if Irene could manifest any illusion she desired within the Dull Forest.
And if she wished, those illusions could even affect reality.
If that was the case, wouldn't calling her a god here be fitting?
After following the light for a while, the forest finally ended.
They hadn't exited the Dull Forest entirely—another expanse of trees soared skyward in the distance.
But in the middle of the forest lay a clearing devoid of trees, like a circular bald spot on the woods.
The warm sunlight pouring down looked so peaceful that Arsen let out an involuntary sigh.
"Ah..."
To his eyes, at least, the village nestled within appeared utterly ordinary.
Log cabins stood in disarray. Laundry hung in front of doors, and beside them, meat roasted over small fires. The smoke-blackened cuts were probably for smoking.
The villagers wore shabby clothes, but they were sturdy and robust—no sign of poverty.
The soldiers gaped at the row of log cabins.
In territories or citadels, houses were typically built from a mix of wood, stone, and thatch—massive logs were a rare resource there.
Twisted trees growing outside purified zones were too gnarled for construction.
Thus, cabins built lavishly with whole logs were the height of luxury.
Bazkal muttered blankly,
"Even the estate lord wouldn't build something like that."
At that moment, the villagers spotted Arsen's army.
"O-outlanders!"
"How'd they get in?"
They seemed terrified by the sudden appearance of the troops. Before Arsen could think of how to reassure them, one man shouted like he was screaming.
"It's because of that guy! That outsider!"
"Run!"
"Tell the Guardian!"
"Uwaaaah!"
The villagers screamed in unison and fled into houses or elsewhere.
Shouting for calm would only scare them more, so he pondered solutions—but luckily, Arsen didn't need to act.
A booming voice from ahead settled the villagers.
"Stop—! Everyone, quiet—!"
At the low, androgynous command echoing out, the panicked crowd halted and turned.
The figure who appeared was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties.
Her sharp, fierce features, lion-like bobbed hair, towering height, and muscular build could easily overwhelm most men.
Unlike the villagers in ragged cloth, she wore magic beast leather armor and carried a massive axe.
"These people are guests invited by the Guardian! Everyone, get back to what you were doing! Ignore them!"
Incredibly, the once-frantic villagers regained their composure at her shout.
"It's really okay?"
"If Jisharan says so..."
"She wouldn't lie. Let's go dig for mushrooms."
"What a false alarm."
Fear vanished from their faces.
They stole curious glances, but that was it.
As the crowd dispersed, the woman who'd shouted approached and bowed.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Jisharan, the Guardian's proxy."
"I'm Arsen."
Up close, Jisharan was even taller than he'd thought.
Around 180cm—few male soldiers in his unit topped that.
Her speech and posture matched her build: strong, disciplined, like a soldier.
"The Guardian commands me to ensure your stay is comfortable."
Arsen nodded in thanks, then asked first about lodging.
"First off, can you prepare a place for us to rest? We're... quite exhausted right now."
Even if it hadn't been real combat, they'd just fought an intense battle moments ago.
All wounds were healed, but accumulated fatigue left their bodies heavy, like they'd been soaked.
"It's hard to arrange separate quarters. We don't get guests here."
Jisharan pointed to a clearing on one side of the village.
"If you have tents, set them up there."
After pitching tents in the clearing to create a rest area, villagers—following Jisharan's orders, no doubt—brought food and water.
The soldiers took it but didn't eat right away, waiting calmly for Arsen's orders.
Their training paid off: no eating or drinking without the commander's go-ahead, in case of poison.
[Eli, purify spell, please.]
[Got it.]
"Only consume food and water the lady has personally checked."
"Understood!"
Eloise wandered around pretending to inspect while purifying everything, and the others began eating and drinking.
Not expecting much from an isolated village, they were surprised by the abundant meal.
Meat, vegetables, even something jelly-like.
Not just new to Arsen—the others eyed it curiously too.
"Wow, this jiggles so much. Weird."
"How do you even eat it? It crumbles."
"Oh, check this! It bounces when you squish it."
Anon and Bazkal were playing with their food more than eating.
Arsen considered saying something but decided it was their way of relieving stress.
They stopped when one's jelly bounced off and hit a nearby soldier's face.
The two sheepishly focused on eating.
Arsen kept his head down, silently shoving food in.
No appetite due to fatigue, but he needed nutrients to recover.
It was more fueling up than eating.
[Sen.]
[What?]
[You look like you're forcing it down. It must taste awful.]
[...No, it's good.]
Hearing Eloise, Arsen slowed down and savored it.
Paying attention, the jelly had a nutty, tangy flavor that wasn't bad—probably nuts and fruit.
The strongly spiced stir-fried chicken with pungent veggies was decent aside from the heavy seasoning.
Glancing around, reactions varied wildly.
Some ate enthusiastically, loving it; others barely touched theirs.
Arsen realized the latter were soldiers who'd died or been gravely wounded in the recent illusion.
Mental trauma had killed their appetites.
Once the meal—joyful for some, ordeal for others—ended and dishes were cleared, Jisharan appeared.
"The Guardian wishes to see you two, but says to rest more if you're tired. What'll it be?"
[What do you think?]
[I'm fine. You?]
[Me too.]
He desperately wanted rest, but he wouldn't keep a friendly host waiting and risk souring things.
"Just a few ground rules before we go."
First, Arsen urged no rudeness to villagers during their stay.
No drinking, and unless for necessities like relieving themselves, stay in camp.
Once confirming Jisharan wasn't listening, he added one more.
"If attacked in a life-threatening way, don't hesitate to strike back. Even kill if needed."
With instructions given, the two followed Jisharan.
Soon, she spoke up abruptly.
"I heard you're engaged."
Eloise's face flushed crimson with embarrassment.
She'd blurted it out in the heat of the moment back then, but they weren't officially engaged.
Others might treat them that way, but they were closer than friends yet less than lovers—ambiguously in between.
She sneaked a glance at Arsen, but even without his helmet, his face was hard to read.
As always since childhood.
Thus, his firm reply startled her.
"That's right."
As Eloise's spirits soared somewhere between heaven and clouds, Jisharan asked cautiously.
Her hesitance was so extreme, it was hard to believe it was the same bold woman from before.
"I hope this isn't too forward, but... how did you decide to marry a mage? I mean, how did you overcome... that?"
It wasn't hard to guess what she vaguely meant: the common aversion to mages.
Arsen pondered briefly before answering.
"It just happened that way."
Whether she saw through the evasion or not, her response was downcast.
"I see... Sorry. Shouldn't have pried."
They walked in silence a bit, then Arsen asked,
"Have all these people lived only inside here?"
"Varies. Some are natives from ages ago, some descendants of outsiders who drifted in generations back, some who stumbled in by chance and couldn't leave..."
As she spoke, a scream-like shout erupted ahead. Someone yanking their throat raw.
"Here! Over here—! Look at me! Knightttt!"
Looking over, a blond young man waved frantically.
He was being held by two villagers while hollering.
"Here! Hurry and save me! Hurryyy—! I'm Ilac of Bazraaaaah!"
"Who's that?"
Arsen already suspected, but asked politely.
As expected.
"The son of the eastern Bazra estate lord. Thinks you're here to rescue him, it seems. No need to mind."
The youth was soon dragged off by the villagers.
Pitiful as his forced exile looked, there was no helping him.
Half self-inflicted, anyway.
Arsen filed the man's face away in memory.
Soon, they reached a large log house at the village edge.
Unlike others, it was two stories tall.
Lavishly using stone and thatch too, it resembled territory or citadel homes more.
At the door, Jisharan murmured low.
"Guardian. I've brought the two."
Without reply, the door creaked open on its own.
"Go on in."
"You're not coming?"
"The Guardian doesn't welcome others in the house."
Jisharan smiled faintly and bowed.
"I'll wait. Please converse comfortably and come out."