Melodious laughter and giggling echoed in the streets, drawing the unpleasant attention of passersby and onlookers. However, the Campers strolling in pristine Bone-embroidered robes did not seem to care.

In their midst was a man of herculean size whose muscular arms, exposed to the bright sunlight and the gazes of those who cared to look, were wrapped around several giggling girls. Each of them wore the Campers’ signature uniform: a black robe with white bone symbols scattered across it and a giant bone cross emblazoned on its back.

Most of those who saw it turned their gazes away, went about their business or closed their eyes and hoped they passed quickly.

“Hey, Tickle,” one of the girls, a particularly attractive one, said in a sultry manner, gently rubbing the man’s chest. “I was so close, but then you stopped. Why did you stop?”

“Hm?” Another girl was surprised. “He stopped? Impossible.”

“Right? I thought it was odd, too.”

“Tickle... why did you stop?”

Tickle laughed out loud and squeezed the girls closer, eliciting more giggles. “Nothing much. An odd thought crossed my mind. Now that I think of it, though, I might have been overthinking it.”

“Tell us this thought you were thinking! Tell us!”

“Well,” Tickle hesitated. “At the time... I can’t be certain, but it felt like someone was watching.”

The girls paused, glanced around at one another, then burst into laughter again.

“Since when did you let that stop you?”

“Hey, remember the time he made the whole Camp watch while he took all fifty of us, one after another?”

“Of course I do. I remember I lasted the longest.”

“Bullshit! It was Sara!”

“It was different this time,” Tickle said, interrupting the girls. His serious tone stunned them. “That gaze... I have never felt anything like it before.”

He stopped to glance at the city around them. A man dressed in rags sat in a corner, guzzling cheap wine from a gourd whose mouth had been broken in half. On the other side of the street was a shop selling supplies for weapon care and maintenance, with an old shopkeeper dozing at his station.

All sorts of people wandered the city called Spire’s Base as far as Tickle could see. abnormals, wealthy tycoons, government officials or workers, adventurers, drunkards, carriage drivers... The list went on and on.

“I recognize that gaze because it might as well have been my gaze, given out on many occasions—the apathetic gaze of a superior being.”

The girls were speechless. Tickle smiled. It was rare for him to be so solemn. But if he had to say the truth, which he would never tell the girls, he was scared of that gaze. It was like everything he did and thought was in the palm of the owner of that gaze. It was a deeply unpleasant feeling for someone at the peak of the world.

Sara, the prettiest girl in the group, bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Then she grinned.

“Hey, Tickle.” She said and pointed at a small store a short distance away. Tickle followed her gaze and gasped in astonishment, his eyes sparkling.

There was nothing special about the establishment itself—it was a generic one selling survival supplies to risk-loving adventurers. It didn’t even have a manager—ah, it was called “Kolsky’s Supplies Store”. The store owner was even less interesting—a portly middle-aged man who was not even an abnormal. What was interesting was something else, the only thing that could catch Tickle’s attention.

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A fair-skinned woman lay on a reclining chair under the awning’s shade. The sweating shopkeeper furiously fanned her. Her intense golden hair was woven into thick, warrior-like braids. Laying in the shade, her smooth skin seemed to glow, and the frown that gently creased her forehead gave her an otherworldly appearance.

Beside him, Sara smirked and leaned closer. “Should I go over and talk to her?”

Tickle swallowed and nodded, his eyes never leaving the girl. Laughing and bouncing, she left the group and approached Kolsky’s Supplies Store.

“Can’t you move any faster, you old geezer?” Debra said, glancing at the store owner.

The owner, disregarding his dripping forehead, fanned harder with a scrunched-up face. The cool breeze blew away some of the heat of Debra’s rage. The reason the shopkeeper worked so hard was not to counter the heat of the sun. The sun was not hot. That morning, there had been a short storm.

It was just that the past few weeks had been tedious to go through. Day after day of doing nothing but wasting away, having nothing to murder but time. It was torture.

The screams, the blood, the grin; Debra only wished to be sent back to the camps where she could be truly free. There was nothing in this civil town that appealed to her. She hadn’t even had any killing intent for days now.

Ai... I should just die.

“Hey!”

Debra turned that way. A mildly pretty girl in disheveled black robes was waving at her as she approached. Her black hair was silky, cascading down her shoulders. Debra turned away and urged the unfortunate store owner to fan her harder. This day was not the shopkeeper’s best day, given that he had fallen into her grasp, especially because every time a customer arrived, they inevitably left when the shopkeeper apologetically informed them that the store was temporarily closed.

The mildly pretty girl arrived before Debra and bent to inspect her closely. She scrutinized her from head to toe, even testing her hair and nail quality.

Debra paid her no attention, remaining deep in thought, but then the girl snapped her fingers before Debra’s eyes.

“Hm. Looks okay on the outside but seems quite dull...” The girl murmured to herself.

Debra’s eyelids twitched. “What do you want?”

“Ah, you can talk. That’ll make this easy and quick.” The girl smiled charmingly. “I am Sara, a B-rank.”

Debra waited for her to continue and state her business, but after a few seconds, she realized the girl was waiting for a reaction.

“What?”

“Ah... Nothing,” she said and cleared her throat. “I am a B-rank, but that’s beside the point. You have been blessed with attractive features; fortunately for you, my master just happened to notice this. So, come with me to see him.”

Debra raised an eyebrow. “You have a master.”

“He’s not my master. I’m not his slave or anything. That’s just what we call him.”

“We?”

The girl pointed at a mildly handsome man surrounded by mildly attractive girls. The man and the girls looked a little stupid, so Debra turned back to the girl before her.

“So?” She said proudly. “You like what you see? Well, before you join us, you’re going to have to remember to always—”

“I’m in a bad mood today. Scram.”

The girl was taken aback. She was briefly silenced as though she could not believe she was spoken to that way.

She finally spoke. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“I don’t care. Get out of here.”

“Do you have any idea who he is?” The girl insisted.

Debra sighed and closed her eyes. Regardless of who he was, she was not interested in killing him right now. She still had to lament the unexciting life she had been forced to live and had no mood for anything else. The only way anyone could draw her attention was to be quite strong...

The girl chuckled. “He’s Jerrod Tickle, one of the Fifteen Spokesmen of the Camps.”

Debra stiffened.

“Hm? Is that interesting enough now? Are you going to beg me to take you there? What if I’ve already changed my—”

Debra’s eyes shot open. The world was crimson again.

“S-Rank?” Bloodlust arose within her, her killing intent spewing forth. Her fiery gaze landed on the man in the distance. She licked her lips.

“Thank you. Now I’m in a good mood... You can die now.”

Before the girl could process what was happening, Debra’s slender hand was before her neck. However, the girl was pulled out of reach. Debra’s fingers clawed empty air.

Debra stared at her fingers, feeling her killing intent rise. Ai, I’m alive now.

The S-rank, Jerrod Tickle, had appeared behind Sara at an unknown time, saving her from death. Now, she was crying in his arms like a baby while he hushed and comforted her.

“It’s okay. Shh. It’s okay...” His voice was soft and warm. “I’m here.”

The girl nodded as he wiped her tears. The man then turned to Debra, who stood there waiting with a bright smile.

“You—” he began but never completed it. Debra appeared before him, swinging a gleaming blade at his neck at a blinding speed.