Leo pulled out two more bags of wine to drink with the brat. "Sael, besides your big sister Gerdie, how many other siblings do you have in your family?"
Sael's hand holding the wine froze mid-air, and his expression became somewhat unnatural.
"It's fine, I was just checking in on my teammate. If it's inconvenient to talk about, then forget it." Judging by this reaction, there's a story here. But this brat is stubborn; better to use the 'retreat to advance' tactic and circle around the topic.
"All of us Barbarians are brothers and sisters of the same blood," Sael muttered gruffly.
Leo saw that the wine had opened a window for conversation; the rest just depended on whether the alcohol hit the spot. He continued drinking with a beaming smile.
After two bags of wine, Sael's tongue began to thicken, and he uncontrollably started speaking "wine talk."
"After we escaped, we wandered everywhere. No one welcomed us."
Who could afford to raise over a thousand children? Leo took a silent sip of wine, the bitter taste spreading across the tip of his tongue.
"We kept walking south. As we walked, everyone gradually drifted apart."
Floating refugees? That must have triggered many related issues.
"I'm not smart, but to survive, I had to do whatever it took. Sael the Barbarian is already dead. The one who survived is Sael the thief, Sael the pickpocket, Sael the robber." At this point, Sael began chugging the wine frantically.
Leo raised his bag in a reciprocal toast. The Barbarians of old—they had lived for generations in the lands north of the Bastion Keep, enduring unimaginably harsh environments just for a shred of ethereal honor: guarding the Worldstone. What was left of the Barbarians now?
"Big Sister Gerdie is very smart. She said the Barbarians are truly dying out." Sael seemed to worship Gerdie.
Sael's eyes began to shine with light. "Big Sister found the most merciful leader of the Human Alliance, Lady Akara. Not long after, we joined the Barbarian training camp. While training our skills, we learned the Barbarian spirit from Big Sister. Not just me, Sael—all the Barbarians have come back to life."
"So, you guys aren't willing to let Gerdie go out adventuring in the wild?" Leo roughly understood why the brat was targeting him. Perhaps in Sael's heart, Gerdie had become a form of faith.
"We collectively decided not to let Big Sister take risks, but unfortunately, we failed." Sael looked up and stared at Leo, a strange emotion in his eyes.
Leo felt goosebumps; what ghost of an idea was this brat cooking up now?
"I'll address you as 'Big Brother.' Please, you must protect Big Sister well." Having said this, Sael seemed to relax completely from his tensed state. He fell into a deep sleep, letting out snores that sounded like muffled thunder.
Damn it, how did I... somehow... seemingly... become the bad guy? Leo's head ached as he hoisted the dead-drunk Sael toward a hotel. Since you called me 'Big Brother,' I can't let you sleep on the streets today. Come on, Big Brother is taking you to a hotel to get a room.
By the time he finished checking Sael into a room, it was already late. He took a stroll back to his residence, admiring the night view of the encampment.
In just a few days, the camp had undergone earth-shattering changes. Several high-traffic facilities had completed construction, such as the warehouse, the tavern, and the blacksmith's forge. The barracks and the monastery were also nearly finished, though the collective dormitories for class members were a bit slower. Once they were built, he'd move in immediately. Living in a tent was truly uncomfortable—the soundproofing was terrible, and wind and rain significantly affected his rest.
A flash of inspiration struck his mind. Completing so many facilities in just nine days... The memory of the previous crude facilities surfaced. It was highly likely that the Rogues had also just arrived in this world.
Perhaps things weren't exactly as Akara described. Humans might have a slight advantage in the Sanctuary, but they certainly hadn't gained full ownership of this world.
Hana had mentioned before that Rogues generally have White potential. What did this widespread phenomenon signify? The Rogues might also be suppressed by the world's rules, while we "class members" are the true protagonists of this contest.
The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became. Increasing his strength was still the only "royal road"; only by standing high could one naturally see more of the scenery.
Returning to the residence, Majesty was meditating by the campfire as usual. Gerdie had already organized the supplies neatly, stacking them on a patch of open ground nearby.
Leo began storing these daily necessities into his inventory. He estimated there was enough to live outside for half a month, which should be sufficient to complete Kashya's mission.
As he finished tidying the supplies, a voice suddenly came from behind him.
"Brother, I thought you wouldn't be coming back to rest today."
He turned around to find Majesty had opened her eyes, looking at him with a beaming smile.
"Eh? Sister, what are you saying? If I didn't come back, what else would I be doing?" Leo felt like his head was full of question marks.
"Didn't you go to let that 'bad woman' comfort you?"
Leo felt that Majesty was becoming more and more lively, but everything came with a price—such as his authority as an older brother.
"Wait, let me wrap my head around this. It feels like I just missed a 'multi-million dollar project.'"
Now it was Majesty's turn to have a head full of question marks. Although she didn't understand the words, she felt they weren't anything good, so she turned her head away and ignored Leo to continue her meditation.
"Sister, where's Gerdie? Is she already resting?" Leo felt his sister was angry and began searching for a topic.
"Not here. Don't know. Don't disturb my cultivation."
Receiving the "Triple No" response from his sister, Leo sheepishly returned to his own tent. He took out the skill book rewarded by Akara and unfastened the leather clasp. The book transformed into a flow of white energy that surged into his body, increasing his skill points by one.
His mind was a bit cluttered. Lying on the bed, he began practicing his "Self-Reflection" mental method. His mental method hadn't improved in a long time; it felt as if he had only learned the introductory general principles—once he entered the gate, he could no longer progress. Practicing it now had no effect other than calming his mind and speeding up stamina recovery. As he practiced, he unconsciously drifted off to sleep.
Leo's mind was heavy with thoughts, and his sleep was restless. The Soulstone in his inventory felt like a time bomb that could trigger unknown dangers at any moment. He had to complete the mission as quickly as possible and hand over this hot potato.
In the Cold Plains, Bishibosh was very happy. The kneeling Fallen on the ground had brought good news: his arch-rival Corpsefire was finally dead, dying humiliatingly at the hands of humans and banished back to Hell. The Great King had spent several years barely managing to guide that small bit of consciousness into the human world; now, that annoying fellow would surely lose the Great King's favor.
He was the "true-red" demon of noble descent, yet the Great King insisted on favoring those disgusting humans. Handing such an important spatial node over to Corpsefire to guard... clearly, the undead didn't fear the freezing cold, yet he had to stay out here in the wild suffering through the wind and rain. At the thought of this, Bishibosh curled his body tighter and moved closer to the campfire in front of him.
The Great King always liked the novelties humans thought up, even though demonic art was the only thing filled with true beauty. It must be that the materials used for artistic creation were too low-grade. There was no reason not to make use of the node guarded by that disgusting human. An ingenious plan surfaced in his mind.
The Cold Plains became uncharacteristically lively.