CHAPTER 55: CHAPTER 55

The people around looked weary. Some gave bitter smiles and shook their heads in resignation. For a moment, Clayton wondered if he had done something to upset this group. But after wracking his brain, he couldn’t recall a single incident where he might’ve offended them.

Sensing his confusion, a local man—clearly a gossip and notably uninjured—spoke up.

"It’s nothing major. These folks went out hunting with Bravus but got hurt before even making it past the city walls."

Clayton immediately understood. No wonder they looked so sour. At first, he didn’t want to get involved, but the talkative man seemed eager to tell the rest of the story.

"At first, everything was fine. But after that..."

Clayton kept a polite expression, not wanting to offend anyone, even though he wasn’t particularly interested. Still, he ended up hearing the entire story.

Apparently, Bravus had acted like an arrogant, clueless boss—stopping whenever he felt tired, continuing whenever he pleased, and showing zero discipline during the hunt. As a result, the group quickly fell into disarray.

Their readiness and vigilance were severely compromised, but they pressed on anyway. The worst part was when Bravus recklessly used the farmers as human shields when danger struck.

Many were injured—some seriously. Meanwhile, Bravus walked away without a scratch. To make things worse, he berated the group afterward, calling them "useless."

Clayton couldn’t suppress a strange sense of déjà vu. Wasn’t this exactly what had happened to Xylas? He’d even lost his life after being used as a shield by Bravus.

Humans really are creatures of short memory...

Clayton felt sorry for them. They had turned their backs on Arthur and chosen Bravus just because he promised them a bountiful harvest. He wondered if they now regretted their decision.

Not knowing what else to say, Clayton offered a few words of encouragement and wished them a quick recovery. He also reminded them to be more cautious in the future.

While Arthur might see them as traitors, Clayton held no grudge. He wasn’t involved in their internal disputes. After all, people had always chased after profit.

Since they hadn’t helped or harmed him directly, Clayton remained neutral—but still chose to keep his distance. Who knew if they might betray him one day?

With that thought, he quickly took his leave. He had no desire to get caught up in their mess.

...

A Few Days Later

Clayton was seen training diligently. New Year’s was just around the corner, but his motivation hadn’t faded one bit.

After firing one final water bullet, he smiled in satisfaction. The familiar skill panel lit up before him:

Name: Clayton Fisherman

Age: 16

Rank: One-Star Mage Apprentice / One-Star Knight Trinees

Skills:

Farming (Lv 4) (0/800): (Observation), (Farmer’s Intuition)

Water Gun (Lv 4) (0/800): (Density), (Viscosity)

Holy Skeleton (Lv 4) (0/800): (Rune)

, (Sharing)

All the skills tied to his Divine Experience Bar had reached level four. Each felt noticeably more effective now. Clayton couldn’t help but feel curious and excited about the new entries that would unlock once he broke through the next level.

In high spirits, he decided to take a walk around the agricultural complex.

Along the way, he spotted some injured folks. Upon asking, he found out they had once again joined Bravus’s hunting party—only to return empty-handed and wounded, without even making it past the city walls.

Clayton could only shake his head. If this continued, something truly terrible was bound to happen to that group.

Choosing not to dwell on it, he continued his walk.

At the outskirts of the complex, he saw a group of thin, ragged people wandering aimlessly.

The end-of-year cold was harsh, and sleeping outside in such conditions was life-threatening. Clayton felt sympathy but hesitated to approach, not wanting to say the wrong thing and cause trouble.

Their frail bodies showed clear signs of starvation. Clayton knew all too well how dangerous hungry people could be—just like those who were drunk or desperate.

Seeing nothing more of note, he turned and headed home.

...

That Evening

Clayton prepared to attend a gathering hosted by Henry and some of his father’s old friends. He hadn’t wanted to go out at night, but after learning the Abyssal Vortex spell and leveling up, he felt much safer.

He set off with his mini skeletons and his dog, Dingo. Halfway there, Dingo suddenly snapped into alert mode.

"Grrrr..."

Clayton quickly asked, "What is it, Dingo?"

Dingo didn’t respond. Instead, he barked sharply in one direction. Clayton immediately ordered the skeletons to take defensive positions.

Squinting into the darkness, Clayton barely made out several pairs of menacing eyes. But before he could react, the figures vanished.

He chose not to pursue, wary it could be a trap, and continued cautiously toward the town center in the outer ring.

Once there, he let out a sigh of relief. The tall buildings, styled with medieval architecture, looked stunning under the warm glow of candlelight.

But beneath the grandeur, many homeless people were huddled together. Clayton felt uneasy. They looked like farmers who had lost everything in the recent droughts.

He was grateful he’d managed to pay off his debts—otherwise, he might have ended up just like them.

Taking a deep breath, he continued toward the designated restaurant.

Upon arrival, he headed up to the second floor. Henry, who had been waiting, waved him over.

"Hey, Clayton! You finally made it!"

"Haha, sorry I’m late. Ran into a little trouble on the way. Have the others been waiting long?"

"Ah, no, not at all. We just sat down."

"Alright," Henry said. "Come on, take a seat."

Clayton sat down. Across the table were seven individuals. Henry began introducing them one by one:

Henry, the melancholic one. Vorax, a chubby man with a warm, honest smile. Inertus, exhausted, with dark shadows under his eyes. Avaric, gold-toothed with a round belly and a sly grin. Vegea, serious and reserved. Shera, the only woman, graceful in an evening gown. Zelot, whose face seemed permanently furrowed.

Clayton was impressed by their diversity. The atmosphere was cozy, and conversation flowed easily. Occasionally, they sipped red wine.

Clayton had initially declined to drink, but Henry kept pressing until he finally gave in.

The food soon arrived, and everyone made space at the table.

But just as they were about to dig in, a young stranger walked past arrogantly. As he passed Clayton—perhaps intentionally, perhaps not—he slipped and crashed into him.

Clayton stumbled, dropping both his food and drink.

Clatter!

The second floor fell completely silent. All eyes turned toward them.