The unknown causes us to reevaluate what we know, what is essential, and our bottom line. Honest self-evaluation is the only way to grow. Beasts are more conscientious about their needs than humans…

~Cernunnos, Lord of the Wild Things

The moment he stepped into the open kitchen area of the cafeteria, he spotted another person, and they both stared at each other in awkward silence. Crow wasn’t sure if the person was a woman or a man because he or she was wrapped in black cloth, and the only flesh exposed was the hands and area around the eyes. Ninety-five percent of their body was covered compared to Crow’s ninety-five percent exposure.

It would’ve been easy to claim the person in front of him was a guy since the chest area was flat, but the curves were very feminine. Either way, Crow was used to his leather thong, so he pretended like it was no big deal and went to prepare his food. Besides, it was like the cosmos wanted him naked—all the time.

After he was done, he walked to the seating area, namely the balcony that had a better view of the valley between the statue’s legs. After a time, the other person came out of the kitchen and weirdly took a seat across from him.

“Who are you?” the masked person asked. The voice didn’t clue Crow into whether it was a man or woman. He suspected it was a fake voice, anyway. Seeing the delicate hands up close, he leaned toward a woman, but then his eyes strayed toward her chest.

“Is that how you greet people?” Crow asked. There was no sarcasm or inflection of emotion except maybe indifference. He didn’t mind the bluntness, just curious about who this person was and wanted to prod them into giving some clues. Regardless, the person sounded like a hooligan.

“Does it matter?” Masked Hooligan asked.

“Manners always matter.”

“That is something weak people say. Power is everything, and if you have it, the only manners necessary are those of the bootlickers kissing my ass. Want freedom? Get power. Want to talk freely? Get power. Want respect—”

“Yeah, yeah… ‘get power.’ However, I think that is a sad way to embrace life. Further, respect is something power alone can’t earn. Fear is not the same as respect,” Crow retorted indifferently and ignored the person. Instead, he focused on spooning his meat and potato soup into his mouth. Occasionally, he’d dip a hunk of bread into the broth.

“Not going to tell me who you are?”

“Manners.”

Crow didn’t flinch away from her death glare and could even feel a faint killing intent coming from the Masked Hooligan. It convinced him the person across from him was a woman, but it was just a gut feeling. The two had reached a stalemate.

A loud sound of a shattering dish broke them from their staring contest. They looked over to see a man standing there and glaring at the two of them. Especially Crow.

“If it isn’t the Maddox clan’s trashy son,” Munro Duncan chuckled, and Crow felt the corner of his mouth twitch.

“You two know each other?” The Masked Hooligan asked Crow.

“We do. My mentor killed his father, who was considered a powerful cultivator among our clan. I should mention my mentor was mortal.”

“That… is possible?”

“An important lesson, the final one my mentor gave before he… passed on,” the pain in Crow’s eyes didn’t escape the hooligan’s notice. “Unless we cultivate our Body, an inactive Shield makes us no different from a mortal—an arrow can take down an unsuspecting cultivator.”

“You going to keep ignoring me?” Munro growled, but Crow could sense that the Munro he once knew had changed. He was more reserved. The anger and killing intent could be felt, but it wasn’t what Crow expected.

“Wasn’t aware we were friends. I wasn’t ignoring you, just have nothing to say, but if you want some small talk… You’ve lost weight. It looks good on you. You look more respectable, maybe even worthy of Emse,” Crow spewed more rubbish. At the same time, Munro’s face turned red, and the Masked Hooligan’s laughter caused Crow’s stoic face to break into a smile.

“Pathetic. Your taunts are still childish, and you’ve obviously not grown up.” Munro spat out and sat down at the same table as them. Crow continued eating his soup as if it didn’t bother him. The masked person kept watching both of them.

“Which continent are you two from?”

Munro looked at the Masked Hooligan sitting across from Crow and smiled. “Are you one of Crow’s wives? Didn’t he tell you we are from Darach?”

Crow actually gave Munro a second glance. He underestimated the man’s observational skills because either he was making a guess, or he’d already figured out this hooligan was a woman.

“Druids? I guess that makes sense since this place should belong to your ancestors,” the person shifted their eyes toward the man across the table, whose eyes narrowed in thought. Crow realized this little hooligan wasn’t simple, and she seemed to know a lot about their history. “And your name is Crow?”

“Nicely done,” Crow nodded to Munro, who gave up quite a lot of information in a very short time. Not bothering to say more, Crow stood up to leave, but Munro’s laughter echoed in his ears. His body tensed, prepared to fight, but he noticed that his old rival was staring at his leather thong, and Crow sighed.

“What are you wearing?” Munro finally asked, and Crow looked down at himself but then eyed Munro. Now that his rival had lost some weight, they were of equivalent size. Crow was broader of shoulder and had more muscle, but height and width should match.

“Let me buy some clothes from you.”

“You don’t have any clothes?” The woman asked. “How did that happen?”

“It’s simple. I was being tortured before I came here. That little Kitten used some device on my Shield to clean out my inventory, and then the asshole burned all my clothes. After the ring activated, it shredded my last outfit, so I came here naked. That bastard forced my blood into the ring, bringing me here. Don’t worry,” Crow gave her a bloodthirsty grin. “I already killed him and all his people. So how about it? Sell me some clothes.”

“That really happened?” Munro asked, staring at Crow with a bit of shock and apprehension.

“It did. Would you both like to hear some advice about the tower?”

The Masked Hooligan nodded immediately, and even Munro nodded, too.

“I’ve discovered two evil organizations you should avoid. The first, and probably most dangerous, is the Unhulde Sect because it is filled with Hexen cultivators. I’m sure you’ve experienced the Hex Vodun—they are affiliated with Unhulde.”

“Hexen cultivator? I’ve never heard of them before.” Masked Hooligan interrupted.

“It’s a name I came up for them. Since they all perform Hex magic but are from different organizations, nations, and sects, it was easier to call them Hexen.”

“It is fitting. Keep going. Who is the other group?”

“While Unhulde is the most dangerous, Gearan Academy is scarier. They are in the shadows like assassination organizations. Their history stems from the Rannsaiche Academy, which was supposedly destroyed long ago. They cultivate Inquisitor arts, which are akin to priests. They are masters of torture and thrive on gathering information through pain. Still, I don’t really understand their creepy-ass methods. Anyway, Unhulde contracts them frequently, and they are very good at what they do,” Crow’s eyes glazed over thinking about all the things he saw in that Soul Butler’s memories, and involuntarily he shuddered. The other two misinterpreted what they saw, but it wasn’t wrong to say Crow suffered greatly. “That should earn me some pants, boots, and shirt, right?”

Munro snorted but handed them over anyway.

“Crow…” Munro hesitated. “In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t mind killing you, but I’d rather have the enemy I know as an ally in an unknown situation.” It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Munro’s eyes had been opened after entering the tower. He’d experienced real evil, and while he couldn’t forgive Crow for his part in his father’s death, he knew that Crow was at least trustworthy.

Crow paused while putting on the clothes and stared at Munro. Neither of them looked away while staring each other down, and finally, Crow nodded. “Okay, if you can vow not to plot against me until we leave this place, I can accept an alliance.”

“I want in.”

Both men looked over.

“Sure, Masked Hooligan, you can join us if you show your face.”

“M-masked, what?”

“Sorry, mentally, I’ve been calling you Masked Hooligan. Wait, better question, how the hell are you hiding your tits?” Crow asked.

“Hooligan! Who the fuck is the hooligan? You pervert!” Her voice cracked, and Crow smirked and left the cafeteria.

“Bastard!” the Masked Hooligan muttered and then glared at Munro. “What’s his deal?”

“His deal? Crow isn’t a Druid but a mongrel half-breed. His mother is a Witch whose presence seduced half the men of our clans. Ultimately, it was his mom that led to my father’s demise. If you want to challenge him, you need to understand that you won’t win a verbal argument. My people call him the Golden Mouth. And when it comes to instinct and awareness, he’s unmatched.”

“High praise from someone that despises him. You said he is the son of a Druid and a Witch?” The masked person asked. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is that impossible?”

“Do you know anything about Witches? Never mind, you obviously don’t. They only give birth to daughters, but you just casually claimed something as a reality that should be impossible. That woman is clearly not his mother.”

“You are wrong. You’d know if you ever saw them together,” Munro was adamant, making the hooligan pause. “And since you want to educate me, let me educate you. Around that fucking bastard, you better take the word impossible out of your mouth. He’s a fucking scourge that doesn’t recognize the word impossible. I may despise him, but I also have a healthy respect for his ungodly determination to survive.”

The masked person paused, eyes widened in shock at the outburst. It took several moments to process what Munro was saying.

“What you said isn’t wrong. In the world of cultivation, I shouldn’t claim something is impossible. I still have to say that it is highly improbable that Crow is the child of a Witch.”

“And if you keep thinking that, you’d be wrong. Our bloodline is ancient and more powerful than a Witch’s bloodline. Whatever weak restrictions a Witch has placed on their garbage bloodline is overruled by power. That’s an irrefutable truth of the tower,” Munro claimed while standing and pointing at her. After he vented his frustration, he also left.

“Interesting…” The masked person smiled. “This Munro boy isn’t a complete idiot, but he doesn’t know how to be cautious. Crow… is worth watching.”

She got up to leave, determined to make Crow her ally in the coming days. Those two obviously weren’t aware of the trials coming. Still, the fact they put aside their differences to form an alliance was noteworthy. At the very least, they were both self-aware. However, remembering Crow’s comments about her tits, she ground her teeth and seethed.