The Water Magician

After walking for nearly two hours, they finally arrived at their destination.

"Finally... phew, we made it... haah, that was quite far," Ryo said, breathless, to Abel.

"..."

Abel couldn't say anything when he saw that.

With his gaze, he seemed to say, "It's so overdramatic."

There’s no way Ryo would be tired from this distance.

"Hmph, it must have been a tough path for a mage who hasn't trained," said the man with the buzz cut who had been following them, mocking Ryo's state.

It didn't come off as overdramatic to him.

Confirmed, Ryo whispered to Abel with a small voice, "Hmph."

For some reason, Abel felt like he had lost.

The place they arrived at was a village.

There were about twenty houses, and in the center of the village stood a building with a square and an altar.

However, Ryo felt a sense of discomfort.

He didn't know the cause, but... well, not knowing the cause or reason was what made it a "sense of discomfort."

But Abel felt that discomfort as well.

"Isn't something strange?"

Abel whispered very quietly.

Ryo nodded without speaking.

While he didn't know the cause of the discomfort, he realized it was a feeling he had experienced before.

When he thought of "discomfort," the first thing that came to mind was "magic nullification," but it wasn't that.

(Magic nullification...? The one-eyed assassin hawk, Behi-chan, and Hasan's... Ah! The assassination cult's village! It feels the same as that village!)

Ryo finally realized the true nature of his discomfort.

The headquarters of the assassination cult was also a village, cleverly disguised.

This village also felt like a disguised village.

What made Ryo feel that way?

It wasn't the lack of women.

Both the assassination cult's village and this village had women.

There seemed to be a somewhat hardened look in the eyes of the women, but he thought that was understandable.

It was something else...

(Are there no children?)

Yes, there were no children in either the assassination cult's village or this village.

In any village, there should be at least one or two children.

And they would be playing, their high-pitched voices echoing outside.

But...

(I believe there were probably other villages besides that one for the assassination cult. Villages or facilities aimed at raising children... raising them to be assassins. That's why there weren't any there. But what about this village? I don't know, but... just a facade of a village? Maybe there’s actually a village where people live... Hmm, that doesn't quite fit either...)

For now, Ryo whispered what he noticed to Abel.

"There are no children."

At that moment, Abel's eyes seemed to widen slightly.

Then he nodded slowly.

They were brought to the village square.

There stood an elderly man in a black robe, with white hair reaching down to his waist, flanked by three people on either side, all wearing the same black robes.

Since everyone other than the old man was wearing hoods, it gave off an eerie vibe.

However, Ryo's attention was drawn to another part.

The long staff held by the old man.

The decorative cord and stone carvings attached to that staff.

He had seen that combination before.

In Nils' village, the lady granny had those on her staff.

Eto had called it a netsuke, but... well...

(The shape of the carvings is different from what lady granny had.)

The decorative cord was the same as the one lady granny had, with seven colors intertwined, but the stone carvings were a different matter.

Ryo, who wasn't a priest like Eto, didn't know what those carvings represented.

So, placing a glimmer of hope, he decided to ask the b-rank adventurer next to him.

"Abel, do you know anything about the stone carvings on that old man's staff?"

"I wonder... the decorative cord is beautiful with its seven colors."

The b-rank adventurer had the same superficial understanding.

Except for those known as "priests," who served the goddess of light, others had already disappeared from the historical records of the Central Nations.

It was understandable that Abel didn't know.

The first to speak up was the old man with white hair.