"How is it? Anything wrong with Ulfen's body?"
Gauss turned to Serandur, who was temporarily acting as the team's veterinarian.
"No abnormalities that I can detect."
Serandur stood up and shook his head.
The moment Ulfen heard that, he sprang up from the ground, instantly full of energy again.
"How about we still go ahead with surgery…"
Alia still didn't feel at ease, which scared Ulfen into immediately hiding behind Gauss.
"Even if we wanted to cut him open, it's already too late," Serandur said, shaking his head.
The ashes inside Ulfen had already been absorbed and digested. For now, it was impossible to tell what effects they might have.
Alia sighed and gave Ulfen's furry head a good, rough rub.
"Fine, we'll let it go this time. Ulfen, you absolutely cannot eat weird things again without our permission, got it?"
"Awooo!"
Realizing he'd escaped the knife, Ulfen threw back his head and howled a promise, looking very spirited.
After tidying up the scene, collecting loot, and recording the quest proof, Gauss and the others rested briefly, then moved on.
The party followed the road through Old Crow Pass deeper in.
Once they passed through the pass, they emerged again into open wilderness.
Gauss compared the rolling land ahead to the yellowing parchment map in his hand.
"Next stop is Longflute Fortress."
"Caw, caw!"
"Caw, caw!"
Overhead, a cloud of sooty-gray dark crows circled lazily.
On this Old Crow Pass trip, besides Gauss, the biggest winner was undoubtedly the raven Echo, who'd recruited a squad of young, strong crow underlings.
Now he had the air of a true crow-lord; wherever he flew, a whole flock followed.
"Ray of Frost…"
A beam of chilling energy shot out from the wagon and struck the roadside ground, instantly freezing a patch of earth.
"Teacher, I did it."
"Congratulations, congratulations."
Riding beside the wagon, Gauss nodded his approval.
With this attack cantrip mastered, Abby had truly set foot on the path of a real mage.
All she needed now was steady practice and greater control over her internal mana. It wouldn't be long before the Class stage itself reached out to her.
Longflute Fortress would be a good place for a young mage like her to grow.
Gauss was planning to stay in Longflute for a while.
Partly to help arrange a place for York and Abby to settle; but more importantly, because Alia was on the verge of advancing.
And Gauss himself had picked up quite a few new abilities, talents, and spells recently—he needed time to adapt and practice.
Longflute Fortress was the first true city the party had encountered since leaving Sena. It was the perfect place to regroup, buy supplies that a small town could never provide, and breathe for a while.
…
Three days later.
Autumn wind sighed over the plains.
Golden waves of wheat swayed in the breeze, rustling softly like the earth breathing.
A small party trotted slowly along the dirt road between the fields.
The leading rider tugged his reins and looked ahead.
On the horizon, a city's silhouette slowly rose into view.
"Gauss, we're finally at Longflute Fortress."
"Yeah."
In the distance, a towering keep jutted up from the bedrock as if grown straight out of the earth, anchored there like it had always been.
It wasn't a decorative castle, but a structure born purely for war and defense in its very bones. Several shorter but equally sturdy towers ringed it like bodyguards.
From this central stronghold outward, the city rippled in layers—dense clusters of houses and streets spreading across the land, following the slopes and contours.
The whole city looked like a massive sword driven deep into the border between rich plains and the wilds beyond—or like a cold iron nail, hammered into the earth, radiating a stern "do not trespass" aura.
According to legend, centuries ago when the sea tribes launched a massive invasion and the Three Bay Cities fell, this "Iron Nail of the Wilds" became a crucial bastion against threats from the sea— the last great wall in the bay region.
To avoid being attacked from both land and sea, the sea tribes once concentrated their forces trying to take the city. Yet after months of siege and countless casualties, they were still thwarted by the fortress and eventually surrounded and routed by coalition forces from other cities.
"Let's pick up the pace."
On Gauss's command, the party quickened their approach.
After so many days pushing through the wilderness, they were all carrying a fair bit of fatigue; seeing a city at last, they naturally felt a touch of impatience.
The closer they walked toward the city, the more travelers and caravans filled the road.
"That is…"
Gauss's gaze fell on someone arguing with the gate guards.
It looked like a human at first glance—but not quite.
He was striking even in a crowd: dark red skin, sharp angular features, high cheekbones.
Most eye-catching of all were the horns on his head, curling back like a ram's.
Behind him, a thin, flexible tail swayed restlessly as he spoke.
"A Tiefling," Serandur said quietly.
A Tiefling?
As Serandur named the race, Gauss's mind pulled up what he knew.
Tieflings: devilspawn. A mixed-blood humanoid race tainted with devil or demon blood.
They originated from humans, but now bore physical traits of their infernal ancestors—horns, unusual skin tones, sinuous tails, fangs—all of which made them stand out sharply in a crowd.
Compared to other humans, tieflings endured more stares, suspicion, whispers—and outright insults, discrimination, and violence.
Yet like humans, tieflings could be good or evil; in truth, many were victims themselves, branded with a curse more than a "bloodline."
It was said that in the First Era, and early in the Second—back when demon lords and great devils still stalked the earth openly and humans were a minor, insignificant race—some people struck bargains with those beings and became their servants.
Even after those powerful entities were banished or sealed away, their marks remained on their human servants, altering their bodies beyond repair. Their descendants would forever carry the stigma. Even when tiefling blood mixed with other races—human, dwarf, elf, halfling—their children might look normal, yet tieflings could still appear again in later generations.
In other words, a Tiefling could be born even to two entirely ordinary-looking parents.
Of course, two Tieflings having children made it even more likely.
Gauss gathered his thoughts and let his eyes move on from the Tiefling.
Soon it was their turn to be examined at the gate.
All in all, getting into the city went quite smoothly.
Things only slowed a bit when registering Abby and York, but with Gauss's presence, the guards merely asked a few routine questions about where the two came from and then waved their group through.
Wherever you go, strength wins you certain privileges; power is the best identity card.
Buzz—
Once inside, they were hit by familiar noise—people talking, hawking, moving everywhere.
Another Tiefling?
Gauss's gaze lingered a bit on a few unusual figures in the streets.
"Probably because these plains used to be a landing ground for demons in the old days," he thought.
Books said Tieflings weren't that rare. Usually they gathered in poorer districts of human cities, blending in with other minorities. Most humans instinctively treated them warily.
Reality was, their infernal blood mostly changed how they looked. Their personalities weren't predetermined—but years of stigma, poverty, and rough living turned many toward petty crime and darker paths.
"Catch that devil brat!"
On one street, a fat man in an apron was sprinting after a horned kid in front of him.
Gauss watched a moment.
The boy was dirty, clothes ragged, clutching a bag of bread as he slipped nimbly through the crowd.
"Captain?"
"Let it go…"
Gauss watched the kid dart past them and vanish around a corner.
The out-of-breath chef finally gave up, panting as he stood near Gauss.
He glared at the little Tiefling boy now making faces from some stone steps in the distance and started yelling curses.
"Damn hellspawn little brat!"
"Filthy, unraised trash!"
"Why won't some bigshot have mercy and just drive this whole devil brood out of the city, huh?"
…
The man grumbled on, as if the rant could ease his frustration.
"How much was that bread he stole worth?" a pleasant male voice suddenly asked at his side.
"Forty–five copper pieces," the chef answered automatically, before his mind caught up.
He turned to see who had spoken.
A man in a clean white robe stood there. His features were so handsome the chef thought he might be the most striking person he'd ever seen.
"Here."
"It should be enough."
Gauss casually pulled a small pouch from his bag and tossed it over. It jingled lightly—fifty coppers in mixed coins.
He always kept some small change handy.
"Uh…"
The man took the pouch, looking utterly confused.
"Call it me paying for them," Gauss said. "There should be fifty coppers inside. If you're worried, you can count it."
"No, no, no need to count," the chef said quickly, shaking his head.
There was no way this group of clearly unusual adventurers were in league with those little devil brats—especially not this man, whose bearing felt even nobler than many local nobles. Just standing near him made the chef feel self-conscious, like the money pouch in his hand was burning hot.
"L–Lord, perhaps you'd better take it back?"
"It's not that much. I'm just angry those kids lounge around all day and only know how to steal."
"Keep it," Gauss said, waving him off.
Before the man could say more, he led the party away.
Gauss wasn't overflowing with charity.
If those kids had been stealing anything else, he'd have stepped in to stop them.
But he'd seen through the tear in the sack—it was only a bag of coarse black bread. Enough to keep those kids fed for days.
Talk of "right and wrong" only really matters after people have had enough to eat.
He didn't dwell on it.
"Let's find an inn and rest," Gauss said to his teammates. "We'll hit the Adventurers' Guild tomorrow and ask about the Golden Eagle Family's branch office."
They wound through the streets until they reached an area with better patrols and fewer drunks, then chose a decent inn and settled in.
…
In the slums.
"Faye, Hope, Lucis… come on, dig in."
A cluster of horned Tiefling kids huddled inside a makeshift tent as the older boy dumped the sack of black bread out.
"This is enough to feed us for days."
"Whoa, you got this much today?"
A little girl with small purple ram-horns stared, eyes shining.
"Ahem." The boy puffed his chest.
"I grabbed it right out of that chef's back kitchen when he was talking to a customer. In and out, one go. Hahaha."
"Dray, isn't stealing… not so good?" the girl asked timidly.
"Steal? It's borrowed—no, it's paid for already," the boy, Dray, snorted. "Some soft-hearted… idiot covered the cost for us."
As he spoke, he couldn't help recalling that moment—standing on the stone steps and locking eyes with that robed man.
The memory made him go quiet.
Just one glance, and he'd felt like he'd been stripped bare, every inch of him seen through.
If he could, who wouldn't want to be someone like that—walking in the sun, respected, untouchable?
But they were Tieflings, born branded as wicked.
Even their own parents had thrown them away.
"Maybe we should… find real jobs?" the girl whispered, eyeing the bruises still fading on Dray's face. "So you don't have to keep getting hit…"
It wasn't every theft that succeeded. When they were caught, little thieves like them usually took a beating from grown men. The only lucky part was that the amounts they took were always small; the guard patrols didn't bother holding onto them long. The holding cells had no space for kids who half wanted to be jailed for a free meal.
"Jobs? What kind of boss would hire Tiefling brats with no sponsor?" Dray shook his head. "Faye, don't let those 'job brokers' sweet-talk you. Those guys who say they can 'get us work'? They'd march us straight into chains and sell us as slaves."
The little ram-horned girl opened her mouth, then looked down, just like the others around her.
Tieflings. Orphans. The two most hated labels stacked on top of each other, making life twice as hard.
They boiled some water, soaked the black bread until it softened into a murky porridge, and soon the kids were eating their "dinner" with quiet focus.
Dray alone sat holding his wooden bowl, staring at the firelight, lost in thought.
His stomach rumbled—he'd been out scouting all day—but he felt none of his usual hunger.
"Dray? Aren't you going to eat?" one of the others asked.
"…"
"I'll eat. I'm eating."
Dray jerked himself out of it, nodded, and shoveled the soggy bread into his mouth.
The food they'd brought back would last them many days. But when it was gone, he'd have to go back out—find some other part of the city where the shopkeepers hadn't seen his face yet.
This was how it would go until they grew big and strong enough. When their bodies finally filled out, the rough laborers in the warehouses might be willing to give them temporary work.
~~~
Continuation because the other one got blocked. Chapter 1 to Present Chapters are available in Patreon. There's no Chop Chapters, Better Translation and Free!