NIGHT. NOLMES OUTSKIRTS.

The Slums were located on the capital's outskirts, away from merchant shops and bustling streets found in city centre. It was a desolate area where tents and shacks replaced infrastructures commonly seen in central Nolmes.

With buildings here made out of brick materials for their sturdiness, the area appeared considerably shabbier than the rest of the capital.

After teleporting here with them, Magnus Vyris had left in a hurry after receiving a notice from someone via his Infuser, leaving Edris, Celio, and Faren to their investigation.

"Lord Magnus seems quite busy," Celio muttered, recalling when the pink-haired man disappeared off the balcony. "I guess having a renowned title like an archmage has its own inconveniences."

"He's… quite the character, to say the least." As he said that, Faren had a complicated expression, but it soon was replaced with a frown as a strange smell entered his senses.

Celio seemed to have noticed it, too, as he subconsciously lifted his collars to his nose. As an attributed beast tamer, his senses were even sharper than the average Awakened.

Edris straightened the rims of his cloak and surveyed the area.

The three of them stood in a dirty alleyway, each with a brown hood over their heads. Celio had purposely bought the cheapest cloaks to avoid standing out. Aside from the clothing disguise, their hair were also dyed auburn brown, the typical hair colour of Nolme citizens.

Celio glanced at the hint of pink in Edris's cloak pocket.

"Master, you should definitely keep him." He nodded affirmatively. "To think it even knows how to disguise magic… What a useful spirling!"

At Celio's words, Edris turned away, his lips forming a pensive grin as he pulled over his hood. He moved past the young beast tamer, giving the latter's shoulder a light tap in the process.

"We should get going."

Rubbish piled by the sides of the streets, mixing in with the deteriorating houses. Due to their lack of resources, routined garbage collection wasn't available in areas like such.

As the three of them moved deeper into the area, the foul smell that was faint at first intensified. By the time they reached what appeared to be the heart of the slums, the smell was so strong that Celio ended up gagging his way through the streets.

Beside him stood Faren Ablemore, who now carried a grimace after becoming the victim of Celio's several vomit outputs. The mage calmly took a few steps away from him, and then switched into his fourth cloak.

Then, Faren pulled out a notebook from his bag and scribbled onto its pages.

"Lord Faren, what have you been writing this whole time?" Seeming to have recovered a bit, Celio looked over to the mage.

On the latter's notebook were pages filled with not only sentence descriptions but also full-scaled drawings; each stroke was done with utmost precision, and together the lines formed pictures so vivid they brimmed with life.

"A report for the Crown Prince. Magnus–Lord Magnus, I mean. He told me that although His Highness couldn't come personally, he wanted a report of the situation here." Faren explained. "This is a Sense-Capture Notebook, so whatever is recorded is retained entirely in the five senses.

"Mana infusion on the recorder and the reader's part is needed to activate this item. By infusing their mana onto the pages, whoever reads this can immerse themselves in the exact moment I recorded these pages, basically sharing the recorder's senses."

"That's… so cool." Eyes sparkling, Celio studied the fine-art drawings spread across each page. "Can I also draw like that if I infuse my mana into it?"

"Do you have experience drawing before?"

Celio shook his head. Drawing was one of the few things he lacked the talent for.

"Unfortunately, this notebook doesn't come with the technical skills themselves." Faren chuckled. "I've been sketching since I was a child, so you could say I'm pretty good at it."

"It's impressive," Edris said honestly as he peered over to see the products.

Pretty good was an understatement. To create drawings with sophistication like this in a short amount of time (while walking, too) wasn't something that could be easily achievable by the average person.

The next second, Faren Ablemore's face visibly brightened. "Prophet Edris, your compliment holds more value to me than any achievements."

"Is His Highness planning to claim land rights to the Slums?"

"Perhaps, but you're asking the wrong person. I wouldn't be sure of what His Highness is thinking." Not seeming to mind Edris's lack of reaction, Faren merely laughed. "I'm just a son of an earl."

A rush of gusts blew from the streets, bringing along with it another surge of nausea for the young beast tamer.

"This area was built on untitled land, which is why it's poorly managed compared to the rest of the capital," Faren explained as he handed a handkerchief to Celio, who miserably crouched over by the sidewalk.

"Even though it's not formally titled, isn't the Riselto family seems to be in charge of the areas around here?" Edris asked.

Faren Ablemore blinked twice upon hearing the traveller's statement, then gave him a wry smile. "Correct. As expected, you’re even knowledgeable in our affairs despite not being from around here yourself."

Edris shrugged. "Some readings here and there."

Although he wasn't the one doing the reading.

— …

Countless wary stares shot their way the moment the three men stepped foot in the residence area. The space was overcrowded with "residents," who maintained vigilance towards the unfamiliar faces.

"This…" Faren's eyes widened as he subconsciously stopped writing in his notebook.

Beside him, Celio, too, had a conflicted look on his face.

He came from a fortunate background, and the beast tamer was aware of that himself. Conceptually, he was mindful of the wealth disparity between different parts of a kingdom, especially after hearing about it from his mother back in Adalan.

He did not imagine it to be with such intensity.

The metallic stench of blood entered his nose. Bodies piled by the tents, along with garbage. Some were alive, others not so much.

By one of the tents, two bodies which seemed like mother and child leaned against each other. The mother held the child in her arms, quiet and trembling. The child, looking to have just passed infancy, had pale cheeks hollowed inward.

"Why did you stop writing?" Edris said after noticing Faren's dazed expression. "Didn't His Highness want an update on the current situations in the Slums? I think this would be a useful scene to record, don't you?"

"Yes… Yes, I suppose so." Faren steadied his voice as he reopened his notebook. "I was just shocked at…the extent of deterioration here."

"You've never visited places like this on any of your missions?" Edris asked. "I heard you're a member of His Highness's mage brigade."

"Oh. Yes, I am. But..." Edris's question seemed to have caught him off guard as the mage scratched his head, flustered. "The Slums is usually not a part of our jurisdiction..."

"I apologise. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty or anything."

"Don't be, Prophet Edris." Faren shook his head. "We should have paid attention to the Slums sooner. Maybe if we did, things wouldn't have been able to progress to this state."

"It's certainly not pretty." Edris's tone was formal but cold. He glanced around their surroundings and let out an indiscernible sigh. "These depressing places are everywhere."

"Prophet Edris, you really are composed."

"Master, have you been to many places like this before?"

Despite the dreadfulness around them, Edris's expression was unexpectedly calm, even unfitting for the situation.

"You see all kinds of things when you're a traveller."

Not only seeing, but being.

At his statement, Celio and Faren both fell quiet, the former looking towards him in confusion while the latter woeful.

Edris didn't dwell on the topic further. As Celio was about to ask another question, he noticed a presence from behind the former. Without thinking, Celio yanked Edris aside, and his abrupt movement knocked the figure behind him onto the ground.

"What do you think you're…" Celio's voice faltered as he stared at the young boy on the ground.

Looking to be around five years of age, the boy glared at him. It was a vicious glare that Celio would have never expected to see in a boy as young as him. In the boy's hand was a neatly-trimmed pouch.

"Wait. When did he—!" Faren blinked as he reached in his now-emptied pockets.

Seeing that the three foreigners weren't planning on hurting him, the boy pulled himself up and attempted to bail. Before he had the chance to do so, however, a hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backwards.

The reverse momentum caused the boy to stumble again, and as he was about to fall, another hand steadied him.

With one hand still on the boy's collar, Edris took the money pouch with the other and tossed it towards Faren. He then crouched down until they were at eye level.

Confronted with the foreign man's gentle gaze, the boy instinctively looked away.

The man didn't condemn him, nor did he try to lecture him. The man didn't say anything at all. Instead, he reached in his pocket to pull out his pouch. Loosening the strings on the bag, Edris handed it to the young boy. Despite dangling it right in front of him, the boy didn't move.

"It's not money, nor is it pity. It's a sugar," Edris said, and the boy looked up. "I can only offer you this."

No violence.

Don't steal.

Edris didn't tell him any of those things. He had no right to do so, anyways.

The world's a cruel place; it took so much away from people, so what's wrong with people trying to adapt to its cruelty?

Abstract things like morality and justice were only possible after survival.

A few seconds of silence ensued from their meeting stares, and the boy ultimately took the pocket out of Edris's hands. Despite his still-cautious gaze, they now bore a new layer of curiosity towards the foreigner.

The next second, however, the boy stepped back, noticing something in the distance as he recoiled.

Celio turned in the direction of the boy's gaze and saw a hunched man heading their way. The smell of alcohol reeked as he got closer, and the beast tamer drew back with furrowed his brows.

When the hunched male was less than ten metres away, the boy spun around and dashed off without hesitation.

A fist-sized rock came flying his way, barely missing the boy's back as it grazed him by the shoulder.

The boy stumbled, then kept running.

Shock washed over Celio's face and was soon replaced by anger. He pivoted in the man's direction and, with a swift swing of the arm, knocked him from his original course.

"What's wrong with you, throwing a rock at a kid like that?"

At the beast tamer's sudden attack, the hunched man spat as he took a few steps back, his face flushed from the alcohol. "You little bastard. Who are you to get involved with my family matters?!"

"Family? That boy is your son?" Faren frowned from behind.

"Only makes things worse." Celio's expression was grim.

Seeing the man wobbling from side to side with no signs of repenting, he clenched the dagger in his hand. Before he could do anything, however, Edris stepped in between them.

Standing before the man still on the ground, Edris formed a gentle smile. The hunched man, confused at first, widened his eyes when he saw the man pull out a silver yone from his pocket.

"What do you want?" The man asked, gaze glued on the brimming coin. Edris tossed the silver yone up and down, watching as the man's eyes followed it like a dog at its toy.

"You came from a Blind Tiger, didn't you?"