Outside the swamp, a bonfire burned in a clearing amid the dense forest. A glowing red log crackled and snapped in two.
Beside the fire, Gelman had laid several logs side by side to serve as makeshift seats. He invited the man who called himself "Don Freecss" to come sit with them.
"Thank you for the offer, but I can't sit over there..."
"Are you worried we might be enemies?" Gelman asked.
Don shook his head.
"You misunderstand. I'm not excessively wary of you. That kind of wariness is important on the Dark Continent, but it's not the reason."
"It's just that if I sat over there, I'd be putting you at risk."
Don was wrapped tightly in a black robe, his hood concealing his head completely. Only his eyes, the tip of his nose, and his chin were faintly visible.
As he spoke more and more in the language of the Six Continents, Don's speech became increasingly fluent.
But although they could understand every word of what he'd just said, the meaning of the whole left them confused.
After refusing Gelman's invitation, he sat alone in the shadows, far from the bonfire and the others, tens of meters away from Gelman and his companions.
Still, compared to the hundred-plus meters between them when they'd first met, this distance could probably be taken as a sign of "trust and friendliness," couldn't it?
Ging had finally met the ancestor he'd long yearned to find, yet he was unexpectedly quiet.
He kept studying Don with his keen eyes, but didn't say a word, leaving the lead in the conversation to someone else.
Biscuit and Shizuku had been absorbed in their haul of Nitoromi, but then they'd suddenly seen Don Freecss—the man they'd been searching for—appear before them. They couldn't help feeling dazed.