7. The Cruel One

Fer, arms crossed, watched the boy squatting in the corner of the room, happily devouring his food, and couldn't help but remind him, "Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you."

Sevatar simply ignored it.

If today were just an ordinary, beautiful day, a peaceful day where he worked in the mine and looked forward to the large public bathhouse and the soft bed in his room after get off work, he would certainly eat very slowly.

He would chew slowly and carefully, savoring each bite, grinding and crushing it with his teeth until it was powdery before swallowing. Afterward, he would remember the taste vividly and savor it until he fell asleep.

But things are different now. Now, he's not sure if he'll be able to eat such delicious food again tomorrow.

So he just ate in silence, like a wild beast, just like he used to be when he lived in the Shantytown.

"All of my health indicators are very good; I have no genetic diseases, no infectious diseases, and not even skin diseases."

Jairzinho Guzman looked up from the examination report with slight surprise and gave a rare smile.

"This child might really be capable."

"Can what?" Sevatar raised his head, his mouth still agape, with a large piece of Grox Steak dangling from his lips.

"Nothing, kid," Fer said with a hint of warning, glancing at the medical officer. "You'd better be respectful when you're talking to our chief medical officer, understand? Otherwise, I can't guarantee what he might do to you."

"Fer."

"What?" Fer turned around without changing his expression and looked at Jairzinho Guzman. "What is it, esteemed Chief Medical Officer?"

Guzman nodded to him expressionlessly, saying nothing, just nodding quietly.

Fer grinned, then turned his head back. "Finished eating, kid?"

"I'm done eating."

Would you like another one?

"No, thank you." Sevatar slowly stood up and let out a long sigh. He placed the plate on the table beside him and wiped his hands with his cotton coat. "Three servings are my limit—okay, what exactly do you want?"

"What do you think?" Fer raised an eyebrow in slight surprise; he hadn't expected the boy to have the courage to bring it up himself.

"I don't know," Sevatar said bluntly. He spread his hands and shook his head. "That's why I asked. Why do you always answer me with questions? The person who brought me here didn't do that. What was his name again?"

Fer squinted.

His patience had its limits. He could tolerate this boy, who had grown up peacefully in the Shantytown, showing him or the medics a casual attitude, but he would not allow him to speak recklessly about the Night Lords's instructors.

If this kid named Jago Sevatarion is that audacious, the Chief Librarian really wouldn't mind teaching him a lesson.

But Sevatar didn't give him that chance. He paused for a few seconds, then pronounced a name in Nostraman dialect that was even more difficult to pronounce than his own. "Karyl Lohars?"

"Yes," Guzman said. "Our instructor."

"What exactly does he do?" Sevatar asked, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back, his posture casual, even a little frivolous.

"I asked him what he meant by 'instructor,' and he told me that an instructor was similar to a projector in a mine that taught us how to mine. I thought that was impossible."

"You're not qualified to know what he does yet, child," Guzman replied softly. He did answer Sevatar's question, his tone even gentle, but his words were icy.

"And you no longer need to use those petty tricks to test our attitude towards you. We are not using you as a guinea pig, so you'd better not treat us like some high and mighty abusers."

Fer laughed again.

"You'd better do as he says, kid." The Chief Librarian tilted his head in satisfaction. "You haven't suffered any real hardship yet. Now, stand up straight."

Sevatar obeyed the man's words, straightening his back and standing ramrod straight. He had memorized the appearances of the two men perfectly, even though he didn't actually know their names. Then, just a dozen seconds after he stood up straight, the door was pushed open again.

The giant who had led him in entered. He nodded to the other two giants, and they left. The door closed silently, everything so natural, yet so abrupt. Sevatar began to breathe slowly, calming his heart rate.

He unconsciously leaned the back of his head against the wall, feigning calmness. "W-What are you going to do?"

"Are you full?" Karyl asked. "Let's settle this first, and then I'll answer your question, shall we?"

"I'm full," Sevatar replied softly.

He was certainly not just full—he was only a fifteen-year-old boy, though his willpower far exceeded that of most, but that didn't mean his stomach was also far overcrowded.

Eating three pieces of Grox Steak almost made him unable to bend over; the food was stuck in his throat, and this feeling of being overly full made him both satisfied and uncomfortable.

In the past, whenever he was lucky enough to get some food that wasn't human flesh, he would force himself to eat until he was completely full, until he was so full that he couldn't even fall asleep.

"That's enough, I'm full." Karyl nodded. "I don't intend to do anything to you, Jago Sevatarion —or rather, Sevatar."

He smiled, leaned against the door, and crossed his arms. "At least until you agree, we won't do anything to you. Bringing you back today was just a coincidence."

". coincide?"

"Yes," Karyl said. "A coincidence."

He stared at Sevatar, and there was an emotion in his completely black eyes that Sevatar could not yet understand.

"Actually, it's all too much of a coincidence. Your physical condition is better than most adults, you have a strong will, a good character, and even possess the gift of age, plus you just happen to be in Quintus. It's too much of a coincidence, Sevatar. If I hadn't already confirmed it."

Sevatar swallowed hard.

He certainly didn't understand what Karyl was saying, but his ability to read people was telling him one thing—the giant standing before him was probably not very happy at the moment.

In his view, you'd better not upset those who have the power to control your life and death.

"What can I do?" the boy asked nervously, puffing out his chest in a very brave manner. "Anything, sir—I mean, as long as you don't actually cut me open without anesthesia."

"You can stand there and listen to me finish what I have to say."

What did you say?

"Some words that could drastically change your life from now on. Remember that dream you just had, Jago Sevatarion?"

". I remember."

"In your dream, you walk alone in the fog, you see many Ghost, and you can hear their whispers. You've seen them not only in dreams, but also in real life, haven't you?"

Sevatar gritted his teeth, trying to lie, but he failed—the giant's gaze was as if he were slicing open his chest and ripping out his heart; he couldn't lie. He simply couldn't.

"I've seen them many times." The boy clenched his fist. "I see them every day, sometimes in the fog, sometimes in the downpour, and sometimes they even talk to me on animals—rats, wild dogs, crows."

"And in your dreams."

"Yes, and in my dreams too," Sevatar replied softly. "But why do you ask that? Why do you know so much about it?"

"I told you, I know a lot of things." Karyl laughed, momentarily averting his gaze from him. "So, a new question, Sevatar. Did you hear what they were saying?"

"What? No, of course not!" Sevatar's eyes widened. "Why would I listen to a bunch of dead people?! By the eternal night, who knows what they are? I don't want to be caught by a bunch of dead gangsters!"

"So, you've never really heard what they were saying?"

"No." Sevatar shut his mouth, swallowing again. "No, sir, no."

"So, do you want to hear it?" Karyl asked.

His words stunned the boy, but he didn't stop there; instead, he continued his narration. Like some kind of natural law, storms never stop because of human will. Nature is cruel, even merciless, but it is meant to be cruel.

"You should listen to them, Jago Sevatarion. You possess a certain talent, a talent that is mysterious to most people, and those few ordinary people who possess it usually end up in one of two ways. They either spend their lives trying to resist this talent, or they accept it and use it to become a sorceress, a wizard, or something else."

"You can choose to accept it or reject it, Jago Sevatarion. But there are prerequisites."

Sevatar's heart began to pound. He wasn't stupid; he could naturally understand that Karyl Lohars was hiding something behind his words—and even if he couldn't hear it, he could see it.

Why were these giants so peaceful towards an orphan like him?

After a long silence, Jago Sevatarion slowly spoke. His voice had become hoarse, like that of an old man nearing death, or a mad slave locked in a cave for a long time without speaking to anyone.

"What's the premise?" he asked in an extremely soft voice.

"Be rational," Karyl said. "I have a lot to tell you, but I hope you will remain rational and listen quietly. Then we can discuss whether you want to accept it."

Update complete.