After returning to the village, Lange tossed down two goblin heads, completing the task with ease. It hadn't even taken an hour.

As for those unfortunate souls who were rescued, they were handed over to the village. Those with family sought them out, those with places to go found their way, and those with nowhere to go could choose to stay and were generally accepted as villagers.

If they were lucky enough, this harrowing experience might be the worst they would ever face in their lives.

Time is the best healer, capable of diluting all pain.

It's a helpless sorrow, really. They have choices, yet no real choice...

"Ordinary people, in these borderlands, are truly at the mercy of fate..."

Foucault insisted on personally seeing off the rescued women before preparing to lead the team to collect the stamped task certificate and leave the village.

"Wait, adventurer." As they were about to leave, a young villager hurriedly ran out with a sword.

"What's the matter?" Foucault was taken aback.

"I'm the blacksmith's son from the village. Thank you for clearing out the goblins and saving Reevna! So, please, you must accept this!" The young villager bowed and offered the weapon with both hands.

"No, no, we have our reward, we don't really need..." Foucault began to refuse without thinking, mainly because he didn't lack such equipment.

"This is the best sword I've forged!"

"Take it, as a memento." Ogre interrupted, patting Foucault on the shoulder and accepting the sword on his behalf.

He flicked the sword with his finger, producing a crisp sound.

Under the high-frequency vibration, the sword's flaws and merits were laid bare to Ogre's eyes—his super vision was excellent for observing weapon weaknesses. Though not entirely accurate, it was enough to get a general idea.

The materials used for this sword weren't particularly good; truly good materials wouldn't vibrate so easily.

But the forging was perfect, the vibrations were very even, more than enough to kill goblins. This fine sword likely wasn't crafted by the young blacksmith himself.

"Thank you, it's a very nice weapon. I think it might be the best sword in the village, but I believe your next work will be even better." Ogre joked.

This also served as a response to the young man's goodwill.

His praise made the young blacksmith blush slightly, "Th-thank you."

Seeing this, Foucault ultimately didn't refuse the gesture of goodwill and carefully accepted the weapon from Ogre, though it meant little to him.

...

"Aren't the villagers in more need of these weapons than us? Why give them away?" Foucault asked Ogre after placing the sword into his Void Pocket.

"Maybe it's not as complicated as you think. This might be the best thing he has to offer." Ogre smiled.

"Why do the poor always give away their most precious things to express gratitude..." Foucault couldn't quite understand.

He actually preferred if children would offer him flowers in thanks...

"I don't really understand either." Ogre shook his head.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

To Ogre, it didn't matter what was given.

Not getting an answer from Ogre, Foucault turned to Lange and Thrandic, but ultimately felt they wouldn't have a satisfactory answer either, so he sighed, "Those rescued women are truly unfortunate. I wonder what their future holds..."

"They're not the most unfortunate ones," Ogre suddenly said, looking up at the sun. "The truly unfortunate ones are those who never made it out of a raid, or those who were toyed with to death in the nests."

Though Ogre's words were the truth, they sounded harsh to Foucault's ears.

He didn't argue, nor did he agree, he just clenched his fist tightly.

This young man, born with a silver spoon, was seeing the cruel side of the world for the first time.

Foucault: "Sigh..."

For some, merely surviving takes everything they've got.

During this brief journey, Foucault's mindset had quietly shifted, and he set a new goal for himself... a goal even harder to achieve than his original ideals.

"So, all goblins deserve to die!"

This statement came from Thrandic, who believed the root cause of all this was the vile existence of goblins!

Thrandic raised his hand and swung a fist in the air, still immersed in the previous slaughter.

His goblin blood-stained gauntlets still carried a lingering stench of blood—but he was satisfied.

"It's not about right or wrong, some species are just naturally in conflict." Ogre remarked casually, recalling his father...

But is it really the goblins causing all this tragedy?

Yes, but behind it all, there's also the Empire's negligence.

'Commoners? Can they even be considered people?'

This was something Ogre overheard during a conversation with a noble.

The Empire certainly had the capability to handle all this, like expanding the city, increasing military protection, or allowing people to live in the vacant areas of the city...

But they did none of these.

Perhaps ordinary people and the Empire's nobility really aren't the same species...

Rather than spending time and effort, it's better to let things develop on their own.

After all, people are like weeds, they keep growing back.

"Speaking of which, why doesn't the Empire just clear out all the low-level demon beasts here at once?" Lange chimed in, mostly thinking on the surface level.

His life philosophy was simple—just follow Foucault.

"But doesn't the Professional Association frequently issue cleanup tasks?" Thrandic asked, puzzled.

"Ha, that's just the Association making money. If there was no profit, do you think they'd issue them? These trivial tasks are only taken by us to boost our star rating, real professionals wouldn't bother." Lange removed his stifling helmet and added another complaint.

Clearly, he and Foucault had encountered some unpleasantness when taking on tasks.

Lange was the type to speak his mind, similar to Thrandic.

But unlike Thrandic, he hadn't faced many setbacks, so he couldn't fully understand or recognize certain things. Being in the midst of it, without a particular mindset, it's hard to break free.

"Lange." Foucault interrupted the two's conversation with an emotionless tone.

"What's up, young master?" Lange stopped his rambling.

"Let's take on a couple more tasks with me later." Foucault said.

"But there aren't many of those tasks left..." Lange instinctively replied.

Goblins, no matter how many you kill, rarely yield anything valuable. If it weren't for some villages being truly troubled by them and offering money, they probably wouldn't even appear on the task list.

The Professional Association categorizes them under apprentices, showing their attitude. These demon beasts are basically for beginners to practice on.

The Church of Dawn is usually the force that actively clears out these low-level demon beasts the most.

The Church of Dawn is essentially a gathering place for human supremacists, and they take time each year to clear out these beasts and provide free treatment to villagers.

It's safe to say that without the Church of Dawn, there would probably be fewer villages outside, which is why the Church of Dawn thrives despite being inferior to the Church of Truth in many ways.

"No tasks, we'll still do it." Foucault's goal wasn't here, but he wanted to do some good before leaving.

In this world, perhaps only those with power and influence have the courage to show kindness.

'If I don't do it, who else can I count on?' Foucault thought to himself.

"Actually, we don't need to go through the trouble, we can take action first and report later." Ogre suddenly interjected.

Clearing goblins outside of a commission, if the numbers and scope are large enough, can also add to the star rating experience for professionals.

Though there's no gold coin reward.

"What do you mean?" Foucault stopped in his tracks, glancing at Ogre, and the others had to stop as well.

In fact, they had been accommodating Foucault's pace all along, as he was the only mage in the group.

"I saw a goblin gathering spot before, and the village guard marked it on the map for me. It's a bit far, but if you guys are up for it, I can take you there now. Although it might not be within the task range, I estimate that with such a large group of goblins gathered there, there might be treasures. Even if there's no gain, reporting it should easily earn us a two-star rating."

Ogre naturally saw through Foucault's thoughts, but he didn't mind.

Because he's seen many like Foucault, newcomers who, after experiencing certain things or hearing something, develop sympathy and a sense of being a savior, feeling responsible and wanting to do something.

But it's often just a moment of passion, and after a while, they realize they have their own lives too.

Those who can persist with a momentary thought are very few.

People can't and shouldn't decide their future based on a momentary impulse.

'There's no such thing as a savior, people can only save themselves...'

Ogre never placed hope on so-called saviors.

He respects those who can persist, but he believes that only oneself can truly save oneself.

But despite his thoughts, Ogre wouldn't mock those idealists—

Taking even a single step in a moment of passion is commendable.

Recklessness is far better than doing nothing out of cowardice and confusion.

'Dependence will eventually collapse, child. The true savior is always just one person—that's yourself.'

—"Words of the Dawn God" / On God and the Firstborn.

"Then what are we waiting for, senior brother, lead the way. We have plenty of time today." Thrandic, the straightforward blond youth, was the first to speak up.

He came out for revenge, to kill those green beasts!

Rewards and such were secondary.

Lange wisely kept his mouth shut, quietly waiting for Foucault's decision.

Looking at their gazes, a sense of mission welled up in Foucault's heart: "Lead the way, Ogre, you're the expert in this."

Foucault was grateful to have chosen such a reliable teammate, much better than those in his family who only knew how to indulge in pleasures.

Foucault never considered himself the same as those self-indulgent people; his competitors were always the true prodigies.

"Can you keep up?" Ogre asked.

"Hahaha, I won't hold you back." Foucault laughed heartily, never expecting that one day he would say he wouldn't hold anyone back.

The sudden hearty laughter made Ogre take a slightly more serious look at Foucault.

For some reason, he genuinely felt that Foucault might indeed be different.

"Then follow me." Ogre smiled as well.

And so, they headed towards the direction of the blazing sun.