If it weren't for someone to guide you, it wouldn't take long to get lost and fall into the complicated maze of the streets. Pen Fun Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

Led by the boy, Frick and Dean walked through the dirty streets to the meeting place, and in the shadows of the buildings on both sides, there was always a subtle gaze cast in his direction, and Frick could only pretend to be calm and hide his nervousness from everyone.

They walked cautiously through the humble shanty towns, following the guidance of the young man in front of them through the remote alleys, and finally arrived at their destination. It was a nondescript log cabin, with doors and windows that looked like they hadn't been repaired for a long time, and looked dilapidated.

As long as you are leaning against the building, you can smell the smell of bad liquor wafting out of the building, and you can't help but want to avoid that direction. If it was just someone drinking alcoholic beverages, they would never have left such a strong taste, and now it is obvious that someone has deliberately sprinkled alcohol around it.

It was obviously some kind of ritual, and the smell of the alcohol was mixed with magic, and it seemed that someone had deliberately blended it and soaked evenly into the surrounding land. The exact effect is still clear for the time being, but just making people not want to get close is enough to meet the caster's requirements.

"Scott, you can go back, your sister is still at home waiting for you to eat. After the boy brought the two of them to the door of the cabin, a voice could be heard from the hidden wooden door, "As for you two, since you are coming to me, please come in." ”

After hearing the sound of the other party telling him to leave first, the young man in charge of leading the way ran away and disappeared into the shadows of the shantytown after a while. Flick pushed open the door and entered the cabin, where only a middle-aged man huddled in the corner of the room was waiting for them.

His gray and decayed face was covered with vicissitudes, as if he had been wandering in the wilderness for a long time, and now he had finally found a place in a corner of the city. Frick can only describe his body as "thin", almost like a freshly dug up corpse from a cemetery - but the exercise that used to be applied every day can still be felt from that thin body.

An instinctive feeling told Frick that there was some kind of anomaly in this man, of the same nature as the after-effects that had plagued him recently. Where the man was covered in shadows, the limbs that were hard to catch seemed to be twisted into creatures he had never seen before.

He couldn't help but take a step forward, and the parts that were hidden in the black finally showed some outlines. The man's face covered his head like a rubber mask, and his messy, greasy hair curled up like the fragments of some kind of creature.

And the part of his body that was exposed to his clothes had a subtle peculiarity besides being thin - especially the hand he held on the bottle, which had become mutilated, and only two fingers remained, and his skin was scarred as if it had been burned by fire.

The body was unsightly, but Frick could still make out the rotten smell of something in the almost paralyzing stench of the nose. Although it is not surprising that there are one or two corrupt objects in this dilapidated shantytown, Frick inexplicably feels that the rotten thing is actually the body of this old adventurer.

Ugly and abnormal, although much better than the strange scenery that has appeared in front of his eyes from time to time in recent times, the presence of this man exudes an abnormal feeling. Looking at the man who looked at him with a cold gaze, Frick couldn't help but wonder if he had to become such a miserable appearance in order to persist in surviving.

Holding back the churning discomfort in his stomach, he pulled the distorted appearance of the other person out of his vision, and turned his head to look at Dean to make sure that he was starting to hallucinate again. However, it seems that this is not the case, and it seems that the only anomalous existence is the man curled up, not the world.

In addition to a pair of shabby, dirty clothes, he was covered with dirty bandages, just like the rest of the cabin, full of dust and dirt no matter how you look at it. Medical common sense told Frick that the bandaging would not heal the wound, but would cause it to worsen - perhaps the smell of decay wafting from under the thick bandage.

I don't know if it was in response to Dean's invitation, he also had a few bottles of wine on his hand, which was really different from what he brought. As for the snacks that are prepared as an accompaniment, they are just some simply seasoned beans and small dried fish.

His unbandaged hand held a half-hand sword, and the carefully polished blade was so sharp that even the layman Frick could see that it was much better than Dean's axe.

I'm afraid that the half-sword in his hand is the only thing of value in this room, and even if the whole room is in tatters, only it is still exuding its former glory. This man should still be taking care of this sword every day, even if his current body is no longer able to use it.

"So, a scrivener and an adventurer—what a strange combination—what are you coming to me, an idiot who is already a wreck, for?" he held out his hand awkwardly, as if to make a gesture of welcome, but there was no sign of it coming out of the corner.

No, I'm afraid it's not that he doesn't want to get out of that little corner, but it's that his body is really inconvenient. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why he is reluctant to be exposed to the public, after all, such an impressive body is afraid that it will be the center of attention wherever he goes.

-- Of course, this "center" is in a completely negative sense.

Perhaps he was once a well-known veteran of the adventurers, but now he is just a disabled person curled up in a corner of the city. No one knows what happened to him in the North, but the reason for his body to become this way can be seen somewhat.

The after-effects of a spell or some kind of serious curse are the only things that can erode the flesh for a long time and be difficult to heal. Compared to the purely mental damage of Frick's current "vision", the physical damage reflected is actually more dangerous.

Some adventurers are just unprepared when they go to the wilderness or ancient ruins, and are affected by the hidden magic of those areas. The luckier part of these people are barely able to return to their daily lives, but the vast majority of them still die from these irreversible injuries, which have become living materials for their successors.

Frick silently looked at the room, and in addition to some necessities, he could see all kinds of strange things. They may be the trophies that this adventurer's predecessor collected when he was still actively smashing the land, but from the perspective of ordinary people, they are just some strange and dilapidated objects.

Strange manuscripts piled together, ornaments depicting never-before-seen patterns, gleaming metal pendants...... A plethora of strange items make a corner of this wooden house look like a grocery store. With this amount of collectibles, just looking at them makes one feel creepy, and one has to wonder if they have a strange curse.

However, the old adventurer who lived in the wooden house did not know when he had collected so many things, but one could not help but wonder if it was stolen goods from different sources. He had no idea what the other person had been through, but if all these weird old goods were valuable, then this place was almost a den of thieves.

"Eric Hothka, a member of Grumman LaPlayar's adventure team, if I'm not mistaken, is the expert at analyzing traps and dismantling them. Before Frick, Dean, who was standing by the door, suddenly revealed the identity of the other party.

But instead of staring at the face of the adventurer's predecessor, he looked at the half-sword in his hand, and it seemed that he recognized who the other party was from the characteristics of the sword. It seems that the sword itself already has a legend with a name, so that it is only when you see it that you recognize its owner.

Even with the knowledge, Frick was a layman and couldn't recognize the news immediately - but he also had an impression of the name Eric Hoska. Just as his sword and man became a legend among adventurers, his information is also found in the records of the scribes.

Eric Hothka is a tall, lanky man who is one of the most vocal members of Grumman LaPlayar's adventure team. He wields a half-sword mixed with special metal to fight monsters, and uses delicate tools to crack complex traps.

Eventually, however, if Dean's speculation is true, he was relegated to the corner of the city, and his former glory was gone. Perhaps this is a better ending than those companions who completely disappeared at the end of the Northlands.

In the face of Dean's straight ball, the old adventurer did not respond, he neither admitted nor denied, but simply remained silent. But Frick noticed that when Dean said the names and identities of the men, his decaying body still vibrated unnaturally.

As you can imagine, both Dean and Frick had many questions to get answers to from him, but he didn't seem to be willing to talk about them. Perhaps, if not all, just a few words about his past could intrude his spirit and plunge him into pain.

According to the official record, Grumman LaPlayar's adventure party was wiped out in the north, and not a single one of them returned to the empire alive. This undoubtedly means that Eric Hoska in front of him is the only one who knows their whereabouts, and he has not given up the desire to live even if he has given up everything.

"What do you want to know?"

After a long silence, he finally spoke.