A droplet of rain landed on Saul’s face. He looked up and realized—it had begun to rain.

It wasn’t even noon yet, the sun was still hanging high in the sky, but at some point, a heavy cloud had drifted overhead.

Below, Claude’s story was nearing its end.

“That incident became a nightmare I can never forget. Later, after I finally advanced to a True Wizard, I left that wizard and returned to my old village. To escape the nightmare, I remade all the dead villagers and brought them here, using the Dream Bell.”

Claude raised the shell wind chime in his hand. “It was a magical tool given to me by that wizard—my current mentor. It can control the corpses of the villagers, making them appear as if they were still alive. But one day, the villagers here started gaining a will of their own. What’s even more terrifying is…”

Claude looked at Saul. “They acted exactly like how I remembered them. But their personalities became disturbingly extreme—one wrong word, and they’d kill.”

“You don’t know when the villagers ‘came to life’?”

Claude shook his head. “I didn’t dig too deep. In the Borderland, strange things can happen at any time. But within two years, something else changed. A new rule appeared in the village: whoever strikes first will kill the one who strikes later.”

“How did you discover this rule?” Saul asked.

Surely Claude didn’t have a golden page like his, one that allowed multiple virtual death simulations?

“Because I’ve been killed in this village countless times,” Claude said, tilting his head back. The deep, severed scar on his neck was glaringly visible.

[Herman: Could it be that he can’t die in this village?]

[Ann: More like he just can’t be killed by these eerie villagers. Otherwise, why do you think he walked out of there alive? Wasn’t it because the master’s Dark Spirit Blade was at his nape?]

[Morden: He looks like an ordinary First Rank. If the master hadn’t helped him today… Hmph, he wouldn’t live much longer anyway. The master saying it’s an even exchange already gave him too much credit. He should be begging the master instead.]

While listening to Claude’s story, Saul also glanced at the discussion among the consciousnesses in the diary. “So basically, although you’re still alive, you’ve already become part of this village’s rules. Like the other villagers, you’ve been tainted.”

Claude didn’t deny it.

Ever since he had started dying and reviving at the hands of the villagers, he knew there was something deeply wrong with himself too.

But he never dared to test whether he could still revive if killed by someone else.

By now, Saul had a clear grasp of the situation.

He leapt down from the rooftop. “Although you and the villagers can resurrect after death, the process creates pollution and consumes energy with no source to replenish it. So you placed the village here, killing any passersby to harvest soul energy—am I right?”

Claude hesitated, but the tiny blade lodged at the back of his skull made him think twice before doing anything reckless.

“Actually… the village wasn’t always here. There are more people passing through this area, sure—but too many people isn’t a good thing for me either.” Claude mentioned something else. “Half a year ago, I received a letter. The writer said that if I didn’t want to mutate into a monster, I had to move the village here and wait for someone.”

“Wait for who?”

“The letter didn’t say. But now, I think… maybe I was supposed to wait for you.”

An uneasy memory surged in Saul’s mind. “Who wrote the letter?”

“Kismet.”

Saul’s mouth twitched. “Wonderful.”

He walked up to Claude. “For now, I’ll help you recover. As for the other villagers—it depends on whether you have any other useful information.”

One hour later.

The small village had become lively once again.

The villagers seemed to have forgotten all about the wizard who was supposed to come select apprentices. It had been a long time since they felt so lighthearted. They happily stood along the streets, chatting and sharing how they felt.

Saul and Claude stood in front of the village chief’s house like two invisible men.

“Thank you,” Claude said with sincere gratitude.

Saul was examining the milky-white shell wind chime in his hand—one of the prices Claude had paid in exchange: the Dream Bell.

It was said to soothe spirits and weave new memories for them.

“Pollution made the villagers terrifying, but it also gave them the power to exist in this world. Now that most of the pollution is gone, they won’t last much longer.”

In this small village, besides Claude, no one else was truly alive. The reason they existed at all remained a mystery.

Now that Saul had absorbed the pollution, the villagers’ personalities had returned to normal, but their vitality was quickly fading.

Maybe they’d last another month? Or ten days?

“I knew it the moment you helped that girl with her pollution,” Claude said. “But for both me and them, this is a release. Perhaps, freed from this bizarre rule, they can finally rest. And I can finally let go of the past.”

“Then I wish you all the best.” Saul pocketed the wind chime and turned to leave. But halfway down the road, he suddenly paused and turned back. “Oh, right—I never asked. Who was the wizard who took you as an apprentice?”

Claude looked dazed. He thought for a moment before answering, “My mentor is a Third Rank Wizard—Clark the Dreammaker.”

A Third Rank Wizard?

Saul was surprised. “The rules in this village… were they created by your mentor too?”

Could a Third Rank Wizard really wield such power?

“No, that’s impossible… I remember something. The reason these rules are so strong is because this land itself has acknowledged them. This place… is Borderland!”

Just then, the little girl ran over and tugged on Claude’s sleeve. “Little Claude, little Claude! I found a huge tree hollow!”

Claude didn’t look back at Saul. He simply smiled, bent down, and let the girl pull him away.

[Agu: He still doesn’t want to wake from this dream.]

[Morden: Hard to see what’s so special about him, for a Third Rank Wizard to choose him.]

[Ann: Maybe that Third Rank Wizard has another goal.]

[Herman: “…”]

By now, Saul had walked roughly 500 meters from the nameless village. The brown dirt road beneath his feet abruptly turned into grass.

He looked back—but the village had vanished.

Ahead, Marsh was waving excitedly at him beside the carriage.

Seeing Saul return, Marsh stammered, “Sir, just now, you suddenly vanished—and then, suddenly appeared again.”

“That’s the overlapping effect of magic and rules.” Saul was in a good mood after gathering so much information about the Borderland.

He hopped onto the carriage in two steps. As he bent down to enter—his legs gave out, and he tumbled inside.

Marsh had been holding the door open for him, only to watch Saul faceplant into the carriage.

Marsh’s eyes widened instantly.

But the very next second, he clamped his mouth shut, stifling a shout. He slammed the door, sat back in the driver’s seat with a blank face, and flicked the reins, steering the carriage in another direction.

At the same time, the little girl who had been talking with Claude beside a big tree suddenly stopped.

“What is it?” Claude bent over to ask her.

“The water sound is gone,” the girl said, shaking her head.

Claude didn’t understand.

But the girl didn’t answer. She simply shook her head again.

Claude stood up and finally noticed that the others around him were also shaking their heads.

Or rather, they were rocking their heads—like bottles being shaken.

Claude frowned, puzzled. After a moment’s thought, he imitated them and gave his own head a shake.

“Swoosh—swoosh—”

He muttered in confusion, “But the water sound… was there all along, wasn’t it?”

—

Saul: I didn’t faint!

(End of Chapter)

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