Chapter : 08
Brave New World, Part 3
Soon after Ars stepped onto the road he had opened, the village gate came into view.
The settlement was surrounded by a wooden wall. It wasn’t very tall, but sturdy enough to fend off monsters or small groups of raiders. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance, spears in hand.
The moment they noticed Ars, their bodies stiffened. Their eyes immediately turned to the two men tied up beside him.
“Stop right there!” one guard shouted.
Two spears were raised, pointed straight at Ars.
“Who are you?! What’s your business here?!” the other demanded sharply.
Beyond the gate, tension still lingered in the village. A few villagers peeked at the gate, fear evident on their faces. The terror from the bandit attack the previous day had not yet faded.
Ars slowly raised both hands.
“I am a traveler from the Far East,” he said calmly. “These two tried to attack me on the road. That’s why I captured them.”
The guards narrowed their eyes.
“You expect us to believe that?” one muttered.
Ars nudged the tied-up men slightly forward.
“They tried to kill me,” he continued. “I’m on my way to Orario, but I need to rest and restock before that.”
The two guards exchanged glances. Then one spoke again.
“Show your identification.”
Ars blinked once.
“Identification?”
“Something that proves who you are.”
‘I know what identification is,’ Ars thought.
He reached into his backpack, searching. One pouch. Another pouch. A side pocket. After a while, he sighed.
“…Looks like I lost it.”
It was the best lie he could think of.
The guards stared at him expressionlessly, as if mocking him.
“Lost it?” one repeated flatly.
“Probably in the forest,” Ars said, scratching his head. “Or while fighting these two.”
“Convenient,” said the other guard.
Neither lowered their spears.
“Just after the bandit attack,” the first guard continued. “We can’t let anyone in without proper verification.”
Ars furrowed his brow slightly.
“I understand that,” he said. “But I’ve walked through that jungle for hours. I need a place to rest.”
The guards hesitated. Eventually, one sighed.
“Wait here.”
He turned and ran toward the village.
A few minutes later, an old man walked toward the gate with the guard. He looked like the village chief.
Gray hair, slightly bent with age, but sharp eyes.
The moment he saw the two men tied next to Ars, his expression changed.
“You bastards!”
Before anyone could react, he charged forward and began hitting the captured bandits with his staff.
“You filthy thieves! After doing something like this, you still plan to come back?!”
The bandits tried to defend themselves, but their hands were tied. They could only stumble back, eventually tripping over the ropes.
“I could kill you right here!” the chief shouted, striking one on the shoulder.
The guards rushed forward.
“Chief! Calm down!”
After a few more hits, the old man finally stopped, breathing heavily. He turned to Ars.
“Did you capture these two?” he asked.
Ars nodded.
“They tried to attack me on the road.”
The chief looked at the bandits again, anger still in his eyes.
“Definitely the same ones,” he muttered.
Then he looked back at Ars.
“…Thank you.”
He straightened slightly.
“You may enter the village,” the chief said.
The guards looked surprised.
“But Chief—”
“I know what I’m doing,” the old man said.
He turned back to Ars.
“If you hand over these two, I’ll issue new identification for you. No fee.”
Ars thought for a moment, then nodded.
“That’s fine.”
The guards immediately took the bandits away.
Once they left, the chief examined Ars carefully.
“Are you part of a Familia?” he asked.
Ars shook his head.
“No. I’m going to Orario. I’ll figure that out when I get there.”
The chief nodded slowly.
“With that build, you might fit into a decent Familia.”
Ars smiled faintly.
“Maybe.”
He looked around the village. The air was still heavy. Several houses were damaged, many burned.
“What happened here?” he asked. “Bandits?”
The chief sighed.
“Yes. Two days ago, bandits attacked the village.”
Ars frowned.
“Normally, they wouldn’t do this,” the chief continued. “The Familia stationed here was away on a mission. They were supposed to return tomorrow, and the bandits took advantage.”
Ars took a small pouch from his bag, showing the collected items to the chief.
“Do you know where I could sell these?”
Fourteen small magic stones, seven goblin teeth, and two claw-like nails.
The chief examined them briefly.
“A merchant came this morning,” he said. “After the attack, the village needed supplies.”
He pointed toward the center of the village.
“He’s over there.”
Ars nodded and walked over. In the village square, several carts were lined up, assistants unloading wooden boxes. Villagers gathered to buy goods.
The merchant was giving instructions nearby.
“Handle those crates carefully! Those bottles are fragile!”
Ars approached.
“Excuse me,” he said.
The merchant turned.
“What do you need?”
“I want to sell these.”
Ars placed the items on a small table. The merchant carefully examined them.
“Goblin magic stones… from surface goblins,” he muttered. “Small ones. Dungeon goblins are usually bigger.”
He looked up.
“I’ll pay ninety Valis per stone, sixty per tooth, eighty per claw.”
Ars nodded silently. Valis—it was the currency here. The chief had already given him an approximate value, matching Dalton’s earlier offer.
“Deal.”
The merchant counted and handed over the coins: 1840 Valis in total.
Ars put the money in his pocket. What he wanted most now was rest. He had been walking through the jungle for nearly eleven hours.
Soon after, he found a small inn.
“A room, please,” he said.
“140 Valis, including dinner,” said the innkeeper.
Ars placed the coins.
“That’s fine.”
The room was small but clean. Before going upstairs, Ars washed himself at a public well beside the inn, using buckets of cold water. Primitive, but enough.
He changed into cheap local clothes: plain shirt and pants—360 Valis. Not high quality, but sufficient. Now he looked like a normal villager.
Once in the room, his head hit the pillow and he collapsed, sleeping like a log.
But about an hour and a half later—
Knock. Knock knock.
Someone was at the door. Ars groaned.
Knock. Knock knock.
Half-asleep, he got up and opened it. One of the village guards stood there.
“Nolan, right?” Ars rubbed his eyes.
The guard nodded.
“The chief wants to see you.”
Ars frowned.
“Why?”
“You’ll see if you go.”
He sighed quietly and followed Nolan. They walked to a large building in the village center—the largest Ars had seen. A wooden sign hung above the entrance, showing a sleeping black humanoid with thick white eyebrows over closed eyes. The text beneath was unreadable to him—likely the Familia hall.
Inside, Ars noticed a crowd of about twenty-six people: guards, mercenaries, and a few villagers. But his eyes were drawn to a man at the far end of a long table—sleeping.
The chief and Dalton sat beside him. Ars immediately understood who this man was. The room had a strange, sacred presence.
God.
Ars had never met a god, but the aura was similar to Leah’s—different, but recognizable. The bandits had not lied: a god can be identified even in a crowd.
Humans cannot lie to a god.
The chief noticed Ars.
“Enter,” he said. “Sit.”
Ars sat.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“We interrogated the two bandits you caught,” the chief said. “They revealed something important.”
Everyone leaned forward.
“Today, they planned to sell the kidnapped girls.”
The room went silent.
“We must hurry,” the chief continued. “Or we won’t get them back.”
Someone mentioned Hypnos Familia’s ongoing mission, but the chief shook his head.
“They return tomorrow. We cannot wait.”
He bowed slightly.
“I need your help to save the captured villagers. The village will pay you a reward.”
Ars considered. Fifteen bandits. Twenty-five defenders. Gold and possible loot. He was no hero, no saint—but if he could help without risking too much—he would.
He stayed. The debate continued—distribution of loot, strategy, and numbers. Fifteen bandits could be handled by the twenty-five people present.
Finally, someone questioned the bandits’ truthfulness. The sleeping man slowly raised his head—black hair, pale skin, white eyebrows, faint-colored eyes, humanoid but slightly different.
“I interrogated them,” he said sleepily. “The information is true.”
The room went silent.
“This is Hypnos,” the chief said. “The god of the Familia stationed here. The children are on the mission; only the god is present here.”
Everyone nodded respectfully.
