The monstrous creature with a giant head and massive hands shrank back in fear behind the door.

Once everyone had entered, it closed the door behind them.

Saul saw that while the monster had a disproportionately large head and palms, its torso and lower body were much smaller. When it shrank back behind the door, it could only prop itself up against the wall or the door to avoid collapsing.

“Who are you?” an old man’s voice rang out.

Saul turned his head and saw that across the passage, behind another large door, stood an old man.

His upper body was intact, and he glared at Saul with arrogant authority.

But his lower body was entirely buried inside a man-sized clay flowerpot.

As if he had been planted in the soil.

“I’m just passing by. Wanted to come in and rest for the night—would that be alright?”

The old man scrutinized Saul. His voice remained rigid and unyielding. “Do you have a referral?”

“A referral?” Saul was taken aback.

“No referral, no entry! This settlement houses a Second Rank shaman. Don’t even think about forcing your way in.”

Such a small settlement actually had a Second Rank?

Saul had no intention of recklessly clashing with a Second Rank. As he hesitated, considering whether to forgo gathering information and instead go straight to the Survivor’s Ancient Grove, another voice suddenly spoke up beside the old man.

“I’ll be his referral~”

Kismet strolled out from behind the door, hands behind his back, smiling warmly.

Saul’s pupils narrowed, but he said nothing.

The flowerpot old man looked at Kismet with suspicion—this newcomer radiated the magical aura of a First Rank wizard.

“You really know him?”

Kismet’s smile remained unchanged. “Though it’s a surprise to meet him here, he’s my younger brother. How could I not know him?”

“Your brother?” The old man looked skeptically from Saul to Kismet. “You two don’t look alike at all.”

Kismet came over and casually slung an arm over Saul’s shoulder. “Are you really judging wizard siblings by appearance? What, you think we don’t deserve body modifications?”

“Hmph, fine, I won’t ask. Go in then.” Clearly unwilling to waste time arguing, the old man accepted the claim at face value.

Once they passed through the walled corridor, Saul brushed Kismet’s hand off his shoulder. “Weren’t you off to Iskaper? What are you scheming now, running back here?”

Kismet clutched his chest with a wounded expression. “I heard my master brother had arrived in the Borderland. I rushed here secretly, hoping to finally give you the third golden page I once promised.”

Saul crossed his arms. “Oh? Then do you know where I live now?”

“Of course. The name of the Purity Wizard Tower is beginning to spread in the Borderland. In fact, just being acknowledged by Clark gave your tower a huge boost in reputation.” Kismet’s grin instantly returned.

“Heh. You know where I live, but came here to find me instead?”

Kismet: “Uh…”

Saul was just about to press him for the golden page when a young boy suddenly ran toward them.

He was nearly in front of Saul when a tall, thin man lunged and tackled him to the ground.

The boy, his face twisted in rage, immediately tried to elbow the adult pinning him down.

But just then, a pair of rough, calloused hands clamped down on him.

The boy looked up and was stunned when he saw a third man—he stopped struggling.

The man holding the boy’s arms, his face unshaven and rough, looked up and shouted to those rushing over behind him, “I’ve got him! Hurry!”

Two other men, better dressed in brighter clothes, ran over and crouched near the boy’s feet. One held his ankles, while the other, without hesitation, drove nails into the soles of the boy’s feet using a hammer.

“AHHHH!!” The boy, who looked to be about eleven or twelve, couldn’t bear the pain.

He screamed, his eyes locked on the stubbled man pinning him down. Tears quickly began to fall.

Once both his feet were nailed, they were wrapped in dark yellow bandages. The man then hoisted the boy onto his shoulder and carried him away.

“Nails through the feet? What kind of ritual is that?”

Kismet chuckled. “Barbarian custom.”

Just then, a wizard apprentice passed by. Upon hearing their comment, he instinctively glared at them—but then realized they were both First Rank wizards. He immediately lowered his head and acted as if he didn’t exist.

Saul, however, had noticed the apprentice’s reaction. He stroked his chin and mused, “Seems this ritual might also be related to the wizards…”

He closed his eyes to recall.

Those seven men he saw before entering this place, the ones with blindfolds… did they have holes in their feet?

…

When he heard outsiders refer to the solemn ritual of the settlement as a “barbarian custom,” the wizard apprentice named Nick was furious.

But what infuriated him even more was that he had no choice but to lower his head in the presence of two official wizards and pretend to be invisible!

He had been stuck as a Third Rank apprentice for twenty years, with no hope of advancement.

But after coming here, he felt the bottleneck he once thought unbreakable begin to loosen. To him, this ritual was sacred and profound!

How could he allow such comments to go unpunished?

Though he had no power to confront two First Rank wizards, he could report them.

And he would report them to the most powerful person in the settlement… the Second Rank wizard!

Their Grand Shaman—Lord Monte!

Seething with indignation and carrying a mix of other, murky emotions, Nick took the opportunity during a routine report to mention the incident.

“That’s how it is, Lord Grand Shaman.” Nick knelt on the ground, feeling no shame. “These outside wizards enjoy all the benefits you bestow, yet still mock your rituals. They have no gratitude at all. I believe they need to be properly taught a lesson.”

However, while Nick babbled on, the Grand Shaman across from him didn’t even glance his way.

Monte was focused on inspecting the wooden rack turning slowly above a charcoal fire.

A person was strapped to the rack, their body rotating over the heat for even roasting.

Their skin had turned a deep reddish-black, but their chest still moved faintly—they were alive.

Suddenly, a drop of milky-white fluid slid from the tightly shut eye of the bound figure.

The Grand Shaman’s eyes lit up. He immediately reached out and collected the droplet into a bottle.

“Excellent concentration.” The Grand Shaman admired it for a moment. When he turned back, he saw that the person on the rack had already died.

“Another one dead.” He frowned slightly, then finally turned to Nick and said, “Buy more slaves on your next trip. Now’s the peak production season. I don’t want any issues with the meat nest—it’s a simple task.”

He didn’t mention the two wizards Nick had tattled on. Clearly, he didn’t care at all.

“Yes, my lord.” Nick bowed even lower and dared not speak again.

After the apprentice left, a woman with a swollen belly emerged from the rear building.

Her face glowed with joy as she gently caressed her abdomen with a smile.

She saw the dead body on the roasting rack and looked at it with disdain.

“Ordinary people just don’t last long enough. Their output is too low.”

The Grand Shaman asked knowingly, “What, you still want to use apprentices for the meat nest?”

The woman curled her lip. “Why not? What’s the real difference between apprentices and common folk anyway?”

The implication was clear—she was thinking of using wizards as material for the meat nest.

Though he was a Second Rank, the Grand Shaman was still hesitant about attacking true wizards. If anyone found out, he could become the public enemy of the Borderland.

He waved a hand to have the corpse thrown out of the room and said nothing further on the subject.

Though the woman looked dissatisfied, she dared not push too far before a Second Rank.

Her belly suddenly twitched, and she turned pale with pain.

But once the wave of agony passed, her smile returned. She resumed stroking her stomach gently.

“Just a year or two more… and It will descend.”

She gazed at her belly with burning eyes—not with a mother’s tenderness, but a fanatical reverence.

The Grand Shaman also stared at her stomach, but unlike the woman’s devotion, his fiery gaze contained a thread of greed.

Just a year or two more…

(End of Chapter)

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.