A scrawny boy was driven out of the cemetery. He wore a damaged top hat, and his forehead was wrapped in bandages.
He had no shirt on his upper body and wore only shorts below. He was little more than skin and bones, and the most valuable thing he owned was probably that battered iron shovel.
In Kimihel, most livelihoods were inseparable from graves. Every cemetery had people like this who made their living digging graves for others.
There were ultimately few people who needed such services, and in order to compete for more business, these cemeteries had also produced local bullies.
Those with smaller builds were easily excluded.
Absalom was one of them.
Although they had already left the icefields behind, it was hardly much warmer here. A gust of cold wind blew past, and Absalom sneezed several times in succession.
"Just you wait! One day, I'll become the King of Graves. When that happens, every grave here will be under my command!"
"Heh, a skinny bamboo pole like you wants to become the King of Graves? What kind of joke is that? Letting you stay here would only slow down the grave digging. Get lost already!"
Another person walked out of the cemetery. He was much stronger than Absalom, and he looked at him with utter contempt as he raised his shovel, intending to smack him with it.
But when he lifted the shovel, he found that he could not swing it at all.
"Strength isn't meant for bullying others. Why are you, a grown man, picking on a child?"
The man had wanted to see who was meddling, but when he turned around, he saw a girl who was much taller than him.
Though she had a large frame, her youthful face could not fool anyone.
He