As dawn slowly broke across the horizon...
He finally strolled onto a proper road at a leisurely pace, no longer wandering aimlessly through the jungle.
Although it was still early, the road was already bustling with activity. The crowd carried a lively, market-day atmosphere.
Aside from a few genuine travelers, most of the people here were burdened with assorted goods, clearly heading into the city to sell them.
Just like in every world, the same universal truth held—those at the bottom of society had long grown used to rising early and working tirelessly just to survive.
To this, Orsaga had no particular reaction. After all, he wasn't a sociologist and had no interest in studying the plight of the lower class.
He merely gave the crowd a calm glance before losing interest, casually merging into the flow of people and heading in his intended direction.
Still, even without doing anything unusual, his inhuman appearance, clothing, and aura drew attention like a magnet.
He needed no extravagant gestures—just one glance was enough to feel the weight of his presence.
It wasn't killing intent, nor was it a sense of danger.
It was a natural, primal urge to look up to him.
An instinctive awareness that he was of a higher order.
Orsaga had no intention of changing that—not even now, deep behind enemy lines, where it might attract unnecessary trouble.
He might keep a low profile, but he would never let himself fade into the crowd.
More importantly, he simply didn't care about how others viewed him.
That was also why—even when in human form—he retained some of his original features, never fully transforming into a human appearance.
With his level of power, it wasn't that he couldn't completely change—he could, easily, to the point of seeming more human than a human.
He just didn't want to. He never had.
As for the reason? There wasn't one.
If he had to say anything at all—it was simply more comfortable this way.
---
Standing straight alongside his colleagues, face serious and focused, Glenn listened as the captain launched into another long-winded speech—repeating the same points today that he would surely repeat again tomorrow. The words were always slightly different, but the message was always the same.
Like most people forced to listen to their boss drone on, Glenn felt his spirit slowly withering. The automatic mental filter in his ears was being pushed to its limits.
He swallowed, moistening his throat which had grown dry from the monotony. Then the slightly chubby, middle-aged man straightened his expression and barked out to the hundred or so gate guards standing before him:
"All right, that's enough for today. Go open the city gates."
He then turned and walked off, looking for somewhere to sit and supervise the day's shift.
But before he could take more than a couple of steps, he heard the soldiers behind him relaxing into idle chatter. After a brief pause, he turned back and added:
"And remember—if you don't want to end up like Ted, getting sent to the front lines to fight abyssal beasts, then stay the hell out of the way of those bigshots passing through. I don't want trouble landing on my lap!"
"Got it!"
The soldiers laughed and shouted in agreement, clearly not taking it too seriously.
Watching their carefree responses, the middle-aged officer could only sigh softly.
As their superior, all he could do was remind them over and over. If trouble still came knocking, well... it was out of his hands.
As the officer moved to the side, Glenn—like the others—didn't take his warning to heart.
Grinning, he turned to the comrade beside him who was preparing to open the gates. "Hey, you think that unlucky bastard Ted has made it to the front yet?"
His companion heard the gloating tone but didn't bother to respond.
Peeking through the small slit in the lookout window, he glanced at the crowd gathered outside, already packed and waiting for the gates to open. Casually, he replied:
"If you count the time, he should be arriving soon. Frontline deployment gets priority—nobody dares delay those."
Glenn chuckled maliciously. "Heh... I wonder how long he'll last. A month? A year?"
The other soldier, knowing the bad blood between Glenn and Ted, simply shrugged. "Two or three months, maybe..."
But after saying that, he reconsidered and added, "Then again, who knows? It might not turn out so bad. The frontlines get a huge amount of supplies and support—more than any other place. There are a lot more chances to rise above the crowd. If he gets lucky, becomes a powerful professional out there, and lives a good life, it wouldn't be all that surprising."
Glenn snorted in disbelief. "Not a chance. Anyone who survives that place has to be a monster. Ted? That loser? No way."
He vividly remembered the look on Ted's face when he received the deployment orders—like a stray dog that had been kicked one too many times.
'No way a guy like that would survive hell.'
Seeing Glenn so dismissive, the soldier simply shrugged again, giving up on continuing the argument.
From his perspective, life was unpredictable. Sometimes being pushed to the brink brought out unexpected potential. No one knew how things would end—maybe Ted would rise to the top.
The frontlines were hellish, sure—but they were also resource-rich, drawing support from dozens of surrounding nations. The benefits given to soldiers there far exceeded those elsewhere.
Because of that, while many were forced to go, just as many chose to, drawn by the generous rewards.
After all, the gamble of turning rags into riches was universal across all worlds.
In the face of profit, risk-taking was never a problem.
---
As preparations finished, the massive city gates creaked open.
The crowd that had been waiting outside instantly surged forward.
At that moment, the gate guards kicked into action, maintaining order with practiced ease—and collecting entrance fees on the side.
This was their job.
Amidst the flurry of activity, Glenn—who had been focused on collecting money—suddenly noticed the surrounding clamor fall into silence.
Confused, he looked up.
Then he saw it—a tall, striking figure walking calmly through the crowd.
To Glenn, the man stood out like a sore thumb. Compared to the muddy-faced peasants around him, he looked like he belonged to an entirely different world.
As he approached, the crowd in front of him parted instinctively, like water around a rock, no one daring to stand in his way.
Watching him draw nearer, one thought surfaced in Glenn's mind:
'This guy's a big shot…'
Instinctively, Glenn's face lit up with a flattering smile.
And it wasn't just him—the surrounding guards all began nodding and bowing respectfully toward Orsaga, as if they were greeting a superior officer doing an inspection.
But Orsaga didn't so much as acknowledge their presence.
He gave them a passing glance, flicked a gold coin their way for the entrance fee, and strolled into the city without a word.
Glenn and the others caught the coin and watched his figure disappear into the streets. No one showed even the slightest offense at being ignored. On the contrary, they quickly called out after him:
"Take care, sir!"
Groveling, fawning—pure flattery on full display.
__
T/N:
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