A legendary tale

After traveling for several more days, the three finally arrived at the so-called Brete Region.

The surrounding area was still forest. Sometimes Lorenzo was really curious about how these so-called regions were divided, since there were no obvious signs and it was hard to tell them apart.

Fortunately, regardless of how the region was divided, traces of villages and towns finally appeared ahead.

The first thing they saw were tree stumps cut down along the roadside, followed by farmland and orchards that gradually appeared in the woods. Sure enough, after walking for a short while, a village surrounded by a wooden fence came into view.

The village was small, with most of the houses built of stone and wood, covered with dark brown tiles. There were several simple watchtowers near the fence, and barricades and wooden crates filled with stones were piled up at the entrance, as if they were ready to deal with monster attacks at any time.

In stark contrast to these tight defenses, the villagers here did not appear particularly tense; in fact, they seemed quite relaxed.

Children chased and played by the roadside, brandishing branches shaped like wooden swords at each other. Several farmers were busy transporting the harvested crops into the warehouse, and some even set up stalls at the village entrance selling food and handicrafts.

The atmosphere was peaceful, and there was absolutely no indication that there was any need to be so vigilant in defending against the monsters.

"Are you travelers from out of town?"

An elderly man behind a stall at the village entrance struck up a conversation with them.

"This area hasn't been very peaceful lately. If you're going to continue east, it's best to rest in the village for the night first."

"Not peaceful? But everyone seems pretty relaxed."

Fern asked the old man with a puzzled look. After all, they had passed through many villages and towns that were greatly threatened by monsters along the way, but the expressions of the residents here were very different from theirs.

"Because Lord Stark is here."

The old man patted his chest, then revealed an extremely proud expression.

The tone suggested that as long as that name remained, even if the Demon King suddenly resurrected and attacked, one would hesitate at the village entrance before deciding whether to go in.

"Stark?"

Frieren and Lorenzo both looked at the old man.

Unexpectedly, Eisen's intelligence was quite accurate. Frieren had originally prepared to spend ten days to half a month wandering around the Brete Region.

After all, the claim that "someone saw him in a village to the east" is a rather broad statement.

On a small scale, it's the next village; on a larger scale, as long as you keep heading east, you might even reach the ends of the earth and still be considered to be on the right track.

Then the old man brought out three chairs from somewhere, placed them in front of the stall, and gestured for them to sit down and listen attentively.

Judging from his demeanor, this was clearly not the first time he had told this story to travelers. The woman selling dried fruit nearby even thoughtfully brought him a pot of tea and asked the children in the vicinity to be quiet and not disturb the old man's retelling of the "Stark Legend".

"That was three years ago, when the Red Mirror Dragon first appeared here, and half the mountain was scorched to ashes by its flames."

The old man pointed to the distant mountain peaks, but they looked quite lush with vegetation, not at all like they had been burned by fire.

"At that time, we were prepared to abandon the village. All the grain we could take was loaded onto carts, and everything else was left behind. Everyone thought they would never come back."

"But the evil dragon still wouldn't let us poor villagers go. Just as the carriage set off, the Red Mirror Dragon swooped down from the mountain. At the critical moment, it was Stark who stood alone in front of the village."

"One man, one axe."

"Faced with that behemoth, he did not retreat an inch."

The old man spread his arms wide, trying to recreate the scene of the Red Mirror Dragon covering the sky, and several children listening to the story around him exclaimed in surprise.

It seems like they're shills. This old man has clearly told the story more than once, so how come these kids are still listening so intently?

"The two sides faced off for a very long time. Stark stood there without moving. In the end, the Red Mirror Dragon must have realized his power and actually retreated back into the mountains."

"Without moving, he scared away the Red Mirror Dragon with just his imposing presence."

The old man slapped his knee hard.

"Those were true warriors. From then on, the Red Mirror Dragon never attacked the village again."

Can you scare away a dragon just by your imposing presence?

Fern's eyes widened slightly.

This person seems to be completely different from the timid disciple that Lord Eisen described, who always thought of running away when faced with danger.

Does Lord Eisen have a different standard for "cowardice" than the average person?

After all, he was a warrior who had once fought against the Demon King. Perhaps in his eyes, he hesitated for even a second when facing dozens of demons, which could be considered cowardly.

Where is he now?

Frieren seems unfazed by this level of story embellishment.

"At this time, they should still be cultivating at the foot of the cliff east of the village."

No sooner had the old man finished speaking than a loud bang came from afar.

Boom--!

The ground trembled slightly, startling several birds perched on the roof. They flapped their wings and flew into the sky, and the wooden cups on the stall wobbled a few times, almost falling off the table.

But the villagers remained calm, as if they had gotten used to the noise and didn't feel disturbed at all. Perhaps they even thought that the bigger the commotion, the stronger Stark was, and the better they could sleep.

"It's over there."

The old man raised his hand and pointed in the direction from which the sound came.

"It sounds like Lord Stark has been working quite hard today."

"Now that we know the location, let's go take a look."

Frieren stood up from her chair.

After thanking the old man, the three walked eastward along the village road, and the sound of the impact became clearer as they got closer to the cliff.

It was even quite rhythmic; each time the sound rang out, the pebbles beneath their feet would bounce slightly.

When they passed through the forest on the east side of the village, the ground in front of them had completely changed. The once smooth mountain path was now covered with stones of different sizes, and the surrounding trees were leaning to one side or the other.

Below the cliff, a red-haired youth stood with his back to them.

He wasn't particularly tall, and he wore light clothing that allowed for easy movement. He carried an enormous battle axe on his shoulder.

The young man took a deep breath, gripped the axe handle tightly with both hands, and swung it down fiercely at the mountain wall in front of him.

Boom--!

The moment the axe blade collided with the rock wall, a large amount of rubble flew in all directions. Seemingly sensing the movement behind him, the red-haired youth put down his battle axe and turned around.

Who are you looking for?

He looked at the three strangers who had suddenly appeared, his expression clearly showing more vigilance.

"The nearby villagers have complained about you disturbing the peace, and we're here to resolve this issue."

"Huh?"