Talent Awakening: I, the Weakest Awakened, Start with Dragonfire Spell - Chapter 532 533-Eager to Help

Chapter 532 533-Eager to Help

Ali’s words caused Rudo to waver.

Although he and Monka had a rough understanding of the truth behind the attack, it was clear they couldn’t be the ones to inform the subhumans – they had too many secrets to keep.

While their intentions were good, one lie could only be covered with more lies.

If those lies were exposed now, Monka’s standing would surely plummet.

Thus, Rudo couldn’t reject Ali; he even needed to appear interested.

This was how a leader focused on battle should act.

“What intelligence? If it’s those obvious lies, be prepared to leave something behind here!”

The exposure of a hiding spot alone meant untold trouble.

“Relax, do I look like someone who speaks nonsense?” Ali chuckled.

“Let me tell you, the one who attacked you is a wealthy merchant named Gick, staying at the only inn in Oak Village!”

“Tonight, I plan to launch a surprise attack and kill him!”

“If you don’t mind the murderer of your village dying by someone else’s hand, I don’t mind helping you take revenge. After all, I’m just that kind of person who enjoys helping others.”

This was a provocation, but it never failed with half-orcs and orcs.

For orcs and half-orcs, who hold the honor of battle in the highest regard, revenge is never outsourced; every foe must be slain by their own hands!

This is the honor and dignity of the half-orcs and orcs.

“Of course, if you wish to lend a hand, meet me at the north gate of Oak Village at dusk.”

“If you’re worried I’m a spy or setting a trap, then there’s nothing I can say. After all, I have no proof. And for a coward, no amount of evidence will ever suffice.”

With that, Ali turned, leaving her back to the half-orcs, waving goodbye casually as she left.

Persuading for cooperation in moderation was key; Ali understood the principle that haste does not bring success.

Moreover, with Monka absent, and although Rudo was the combat leader, he didn’t quite match up to Monka’s spiritual leadership.

If Monka had been there, Ali might have pressed further, but with just Rudo, conveying the message clearly was enough.

They would rile themselves up on their own.

That’s just how passionate half-orcs are.

But where was that old fox, Monka?

As the main road began to bustle, Monka finally saw the gates of Oak Village.

Calling them “gates” might be generous; they were merely two wooden fence doors fixed on a fence about a person’s height, offering little in the way of defense.

Indeed, such wooden gates couldn’t stop larger beasts, let alone spellbeast subspecies or spellbeasts themselves.

Were it not for the subhuman village covertly dealing with the excess of wild beasts, Oak Village wouldn’t enjoy its current stability.

Ultimately, the two villages shared a symbiotic relationship.

Even though the forest village was at a disadvantage, losing either would be detrimental to the other.

“So, it’s time to take a good look around here. After all these years since I left, this is my first time back.”

Monka adjusted the hood over his head, concealing his conspicuous wolf ears.

While the folks of Oak Village wouldn’t harm him, he couldn’t be sure about the merchants passing through, who might suddenly decide to play the part of a bandit or a slave trader.

Monka had encountered such situations before.

To some humans, subhumans were merely humanoid merchandise, perhaps not even esteemed as much as cattle or sheep, their status akin to disposable goods.

The living conditions for subhumans within human societies were deplorably harsh, a fact that needed change.

And for change to occur, blood must be shed.

There has never been a revolution without bloodshed.

Walking along the streets of Oak Village, which had expanded significantly, Monka looked around at the shops and houses with interest.

Though the streets were still crude, merely compacted dirt, and the houses built rather haphazardly, there was no doubt that change was underway.

Due to its growing strategic and environmental importance, Oak Village was evolving bit by bit.

He didn’t seek out his old friend.

After so many years, it was uncertain if he would still recognize Monka, or even if he was still alive.

However, if he was alive, he surely wouldn’t fail to notice Monka’s return.

That guy was like an old spider, seemingly motionless at the center of his web, yet acutely responsive to the slightest disturbance.

If he appeared unresponsive, it only meant you weren’t even worth the effort of him lifting a finger; his self-established defense system would take care of you on its own.

Following the information from his contacts, Monka found the village’s only inn.

It wasn’t hard to locate; the Nameless Inn stood as the tallest building in the village, a four-story wooden structure, distinctly crafted, likely designed by someone from a larger city.

This wasn’t to disparage Oak Village’s carpenters or builders, but in realms untouched by mana, the gap between large cities and small villages was vast.

Technologies commonplace in big cities seemed almost magical and mysterious in small villages.

Oak Village, frequented by many travelers, hadn’t fallen behind in this aspect, hence the decent construction.

Stopping in front of the inn, Monka looked up at the four-story building, his mouth curving slightly.

Even without entering, he could sense a formidable presence occupying it, akin to those who claim dominance wherever they go.

This person was the same, exuding confidence and authority with every step.

Only he could possess such aura; his brother, though stronger, lacked this imposing air, being more serene and focused.

How long had it been since then?

Monka stroked his chin in thought.

The time span wasn’t really that long, considering subhumans generally lived longer than ordinary humans.

Half-dwarves and half-gnomes had lifespans nearly forty years beyond that of humans.

Half-orcs lived about twice as long as humans, while half-elves’ lifespans ranged from three to five times that of humans, depending on their bloodline.

With a pure and noble bloodline, some could even approach the lifespan of advanced elves.

Pausing at the door, Monka shook his head and turned to leave.

“Sir, are you looking to stay the night?”

A figure blocked Monka’s path.

Looking down, Monka could only see a pair of well-crafted linen trousers and a pair of delicate hunting leather boots.

This was someone of means, Monka concluded in an instant.

Perhaps just the boots alone wouldn’t lead to such a judgment; fine leather boots, though expensive, were within a merchant’s grasp if they bit the bullet, considering a decent pair was essential when traveling.

However, the seemingly coarse linen trousers told a different story.

Linen, depending on its quality, varied greatly in price.

With Monka’s seasoned eye, he immediately recognized the grade of the linen used for these trousers.

Without exaggeration, those trousers could fetch the price of a carriage!

“I had intended to, but it seems there’s no room left for me.”

Monka lifted his head, seeing Gick’s still-youthful face.

Although there were some differences from his memory, the stubbornness of the youth he once knew was discernible in his features.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve reserved the entire place. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay, sir. If you don’t mind, I can help you find temporary accommodations in the village.”

Seeing Monka’s face, Gick’s expression remained unchanged, still carrying sincerity and gravity as if he was dealing with just another elderly gentleman rather than an orc shunned like a rat crossing the street, maintaining flawless noble etiquette.

“No worries, I’ve just changed my mind,” Monka said with a smile.

“I’m not yet so old that I can’t walk. If there are no rooms here, I’ll continue on my way; I’m sure I’ll find a suitable inn. And if not, building one myself seems like a fine option.”

“Sir, you have vision! Indeed, having only one inn along this road is too few.”

Gick’s posture seemed even more humble, his eyes carrying a hint of deference.

“However, if you plan on opening an inn, sir, you’ll be stepping on quite a few toes. Especially the proprietress of this inn. She may seem easy-going, but cutting off someone’s livelihood is akin to killing their parents.”

“And you are…?”

Monka suddenly looked at Gick askance.

Caught off guard, Gick replied with a smile, “A guest.”

“Since you’re a guest, mind your own business!”

Monka retorted sharply with a cold laugh, shook his cloak, and walked away without looking back.

Watching Monka’s firm departure, Gick slowly straightened up, his expression returning to one of calm.

Despite the passage of time, the old man remained shrewd; age had not dulled his spirit in the slightest.