I'm not a Witcher anymore.

As the carriage passed through the city gate, its wheels were rolling into two repeatedly compacted ruts.

The iron-cast city gate was half-open, its heavy door leaves covered with a layer of rust that could not be wiped clean, and the edges still bore traces of rainwater and mortar that had dried together.

The doorway was cool and the air was heavier than outside the street, carrying the unique smell of a border town—the smoke from firewood burning all day, the pungent odor of livestock that couldn't be contained in the stable, and the old smell that seeped from the damp wooden planks after being trodden on by people for a long time.

That smelled unpleasant.

But after traversing the wilderness and smelling blood, mud, sweat, and the stench of wild beasts, it unexpectedly gives one a sense of returning to the human world.

The guards standing by the door were talking while leaning against their halberds when they heard the sound of wheels and hooves, and they lazily raised their eyes.

His gaze first swept over the carriage, then fell on the people beside it.

The boots were covered in dirt, the leather armor was worn white, there were bloodstains that hadn't been washed off, and there was a smell of sweat, dust and weariness that had accumulated over a long period of rest.

The guard's gaze lingered on Zieg's face for a moment before falling on Ingram's breastplate, which was twisted and deformed from a heavy blow.

But in the end, he didn't ask anything.

He simply stepped half a step to the side and raised his hand to signal that they could pass.

"Go in."

His tone was flat, as if he were letting an ordinary delivery truck into town.

There was no questioning.

There were no unnecessary obstacles.

The carriage passed through the archway and re-entered the streets of the border town.

The oncoming noise almost instantly separated the fighting in the wilderness.

Inside the blacksmith's shop, the hammer was striking the red-hot iron blank one after another, the sound short and heavy, making half the street tremble slightly.

An old woodworking shop on the street was still open. Planes were pushing against planks, and fine wood chips fell all over the ground. The smell of resin and freshly split wood wafted out from the doorway.

Further ahead, there were stalls selling hot soup and black bread, with steam rising from copper pots, the aroma of herbs, salt, and meat fat mingling together and wafting from the stalls all the way to the street.

The child was still chasing after the wooden wheel.

The vendors were still arguing loudly over a few copper coins.

Some people splashed dirty water from washing vegetables out of the window, while others stood at the door shaking flour off their aprons.

Everything remains the same.

It was as if nothing had happened.

But everyone on the bus knew very well—

Not long ago, a field of corpses and blood had been laid out among the weeds and rocks outside the town.

Those thirty-odd desperados came with great force, but died quickly.

The dull thud of a spear piercing a breastplate, the brief whistling of an arrow cutting through flesh, the mud and pebbles kicked up when a warhorse stumbled and fell—these sounds still seemed to linger in everyone's ears.

But what truly makes one's heart sink is not those dead people.

It was the one that came after that.

The dark shadow pressing down from the night sky, the stench of the wind that swept over us, the thunderous roar that shook the ground, and the muffled thunder that seemed to penetrate to the bone when the owl-bear's giant claws slammed into the tower shield.

That's not something that happened a long time ago.

Ingram's chest still felt tight, Finn's shoulders and back were still taut, and Ravenna's fingertips still felt a lingering stiffness when she recalled the shadow that had pressed down from behind.

Even Joel, before he actually saw the rooftops and smoke rising from the chimneys of the town, still felt a sense of unease.

The carriage gradually slowed down.

Finally, it came to a steady stop in front of the weapons shop.

The two men on the cart were the first to get off. Their legs were still a little weak, and they had to hold onto the edge of the cart for a while before they could steady themselves.

Joel glanced back at them: "Unload the horses, lead them to the back and water them. Also, tidy up the things in the cart."

The two responded, one went to untie the horse's harness, and the other went around to the back of the cart to collect the scattered items.

Joel then jumped down from beside the carriage shaft.

The boot soles made a short, muffled thud when they hit the ground, kicking up a bit of still-damp dust.

But after he steadied himself, he didn't speak immediately. Instead, he turned around and glanced at the people in the car.

That look in his eyes wasn't complicated.

The fatigue hadn't subsided, and the lingering fear was still there. He didn't even bother to clean the dust off his face or the bloodstains on his sleeves.

He seemed to want to say something.

But the words were on the tip of his tongue when he swallowed them back.

Zig also got out of the car.

He landed very steadily, with almost no extra noise.

However, the hem of his clothes and the edges of his boots were still stained with mud and dark bloodstains from the wilderness, which looked particularly conspicuous in the town's sunlight.

Finn then got out of the carriage with his spear, tapping the ground lightly with the butt of the spear, making a soft click.

His steps remained steady, and his face showed no extra expression, but the muscles in his right shoulder and back were still taut, as if the dull pain left by the previous hard collision was still pressing into his bones.

Ingram was a step too slow.

He clearly used the edge of the car as he got out, and the deformed breastplate on his chest was still pressed there.

After his feet touched the ground, his shoulders and back tensed up almost imperceptibly, and his breathing became much heavier than usual.

Ravenna was the last to jump, and her movements were still light and quick. However, when she landed, her toes didn't just touch the ground cleanly and then tuck in as usual. Instead, she used a little more force to suppress the sudden soreness that shot up between her legs.

Joel saw it all.

He raised his hand, wiped the dust off his face, and then turned to search the locked wooden box next to the carriage.

"As originally agreed."

As he spoke, he took out the tied money pouches one by one.

"Eight gold medals per person."

As the money bag fell into his palm, the gold coins collided with each other, making a heavy, crisp sound.

That was a reassuring voice.

At least in this world, most of the time, it is indeed more real than empty words.

Joel first handed the money to Finn, who was closest to him, and then to Ingram.

When it was Ravenna's turn, he paused for a moment, then, as if he had finally made up his mind, he lowered his head and felt around in the wooden box again.

He redistributed a few extra gold coins into each bag.

The sound of the gold coins clinking together was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear.

"Add two more gold medals."

Joel didn't look up, as if afraid that if he did, his words would sound awkward.

"Consider it a small token of my appreciation."

After saying this, he looked at everyone again.

That face, which usually exuded a shrewdness and shrewdness, was now unusually devoid of any room for bargaining, showing only a tired look as if it had not yet fully recovered from the shock.

"I thought those desperados ahead were troublesome enough."

As he said this, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice became hoarse.

"But when that monster landed behind me, I realized what it really meant to be deadly."

He seemed to still have that scene in his mind even now, and after pausing, he continued.

"In short, if it weren't for you all being here, I would probably be rotting in the wasteland right now, along with that wrecked car."

That's a very straightforward statement.

Because it is straightforward, there is not much room for embellishment.

Finn reached out and took the money bag, weighing it in his palm.

The portion size is generous.

He didn't say anything, only nodded slightly, as if to acknowledge the favor.

Ingram took his bag a little slower than usual.

He still felt a dull ache in his chest, and even his voice was slightly hoarse.

Thank you.

The two words are not repeated, yet they are very steady.

After Ravenna took the money bag, she casually tossed it into the air. The bag traced a small arc in mid-air before she caught it back in her palm.

She looked up at Joel, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

"This time it was much more pleasant than last time."

She spoke softly, with a touch of her usual teasing, which somewhat diluted the somber atmosphere in front of the shop.

Joel understood, and finally managed a smile, but the smile was quickly suppressed by exhaustion.