I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

The wind whipped up dust, but these particles instinctively avoided the two people walking into the distance. One wisp of wind even betrayed its own kind, turning in the opposite direction to lead the way for the two.

"Can you find the way out?"

Saria had originally intended to use enamel to somewhat shield herself from the dust in the wilderness, but she soon realized that this would be pointless next to Gerald.

“This is basic, Celia. If you can’t even find your way in the wilderness of Colombia, you can’t possibly figure out where to attack from on the battlefield. That’s one of my jobs.”

Gerald had changed into a new set of clothes. The temperature difference between day and night in the wilderness was extreme, so he had taken a few extra clothes from the dryer and packed them in his backpack. The spellcasting medium was something he'd borrowed casually from Barton's office—it was indeed of good quality, but showed no signs of use; it was probably just for show.

"Although I've never been here before, judging from the terrain, the surrounding rock formations, and some other things... I haven't seen any landmarks."

He looked around: "We should be on the eastern side of the Columbia Wasteland, in the Gaspar Wasteland. We're pretty lucky; if we were any further south, that would be the Poisonous Swamp."

“It’s about 100 or 200 kilometers from here to Tikkarendo,” Gerald estimated the distance in his mind. “It would take a day and a night to walk there, or we could find a place to camp nearby and wait until I’m strong enough to carry you for a while… no, a few hours… I guess.”

Saria's gaze fell on him, and for some reason, a strange chill crept over her.

"Why hesitate?" she said calmly. "You can just say it, I won't be angry."

"Which explanation do you want to hear?" Gerald pulled his backpack up. "I can give you a detailed and well-founded one, or I can give you a reasonable one that you might not accept."

“Let’s talk about the former first.” Saria walked a little faster without saying a word.

"The former, as I said before, my Originium Arts are currently in a 'depleted' state, and I can only use casting mediums to create some simple spells." Gerald went on and on with his long explanation: "Based on this, I certainly can't bring my full running speed into the formula, so I will hesitate three times. The first is my own speed, the second is the speed with you, and the third is the speed considering the need to rest from time to time."

What about the latter?

"You're too heavy, especially your tail."

No sooner had she finished speaking than Saria's tail, which was covered by her coat and swaying in the wind, shot towards Gerald with lightning speed, wrapping around his tail and pulling hard.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop!" Gerald hurriedly pulled his tail away. "Kuranta's tail is for balance. We rely on it to run. Are you trying to kill me? What happened to not being angry?"

"Really? Maybe my tail was just a little unhappy after hearing what you said. I didn't try to control it."

This is a lie.

Saria maintained the same speed as Gerald, her expression unchanged, while her barbed tail constantly launched surprise attacks. Gerald felt like telling his tail, "You don't need to fight an opponent you can't beat."

It's fine, though.

Gerald had initially thought that after what had just happened, Saria would be in a low mood and might even be unwilling to talk to him for a while... but thankfully, everything seemed normal.

That final "thank you" probably meant that Saria had already understood what he meant.

Emotions need an outlet, and even strong individuals who can continuously process their emotions will experience a gradual deterioration of their mental health in the process.

His interactions over the past two months had convinced him that Saria had indeed had very few close friends in the past few years. Even just one person who could make her let her guard down and lower her armor would at least soften her stubborn and unyielding nature and lighten her burdens.

Just like the fleeting desire in Saria's eyes when he first broke through the enamel.

No normal person deliberately seeks out hardship to take on responsibility—most of the time, they have no choice, and only a small number of people will voluntarily choose to take on more.

After leaving prison, her once restrained movements have become natural. Like the way she's clearly expressing her emotions now, this version of Saria is something he could never have imagined before.

...But all that, why did his tail become a victim of relieving his mood?

"I was wrong, I was wrong, dear sister." Gerald quickly dodged to the side, letting his tail dodge the opponent's attack range. "It's not heavy, not heavy at all. It's definitely much better than Adakles with his big tail. Last time I was about to throw a drunk Adakles into a cell, his tail almost slapped my face."

"..."

Even Saria found it difficult to deal with such a lack of emotional intelligence, and she had no doubt that it was intentional: "You can try it yourself, and then you can compare the difference between the two with your actual experience."

“No, you can tell just by looking at it,” Gerald shrugged. “With such a big tail, wouldn’t it be inconvenient to sleep? And the horns on your head too, if you lie on your side, they’ll pierce through your pillow.”

"The thorns on the tail can be retracted."

Saria quickened her pace slightly, positioning herself in front of Gerald. Then, the spikes that resembled those of a giant spiny dragon instantly retracted, somewhat like armor retracting from its transformed state: "At least this way I won't prick myself. As for the horns on my head, many cities sell protective headgear or specially designed mattresses."

"Do all Vaivans have to go through this process?" Gerald couldn't help but ask.

"Just like your ears and tail shed fur, if you had to face this problem and find solutions from birth, then after decades, it would no longer be a problem for you—because you would have tried every possible method."

Saria unusually ended with an exclamation.

She had never said these things to anyone else. She wasn't the type to take initiative in social situations, and no one would ask her any questions about her tail.

However, after venting all her frustrations with her tail, Saria was surprisingly relaxed and happy.

Just like the cloudless sky above, the bright sunshine shines down, yet it only brings warmth and gentleness.

"That's a coincidence, I just had a question like that before."

Gerald suddenly said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked into the distance, "Why do you think someone would choose to wear that metal bucket on their head all the time, even when they're sleeping, when they could easily take it off?"

"I don't quite understand—"

Seria seemed to realize something, and her gaze followed Gerald as he looked into the distance, gazing into the distance.

...In this desolate wilderness, unexpectedly, she did indeed see human figures.

One, a man wearing a strange iron bucket helmet.

Chapter Forty-Four: Where is my precious treasure hidden?

As they moved closer, they were able to see the specific environment in which the distant figure was located.

The first thing that catches the eye is a rather spacious truck. The windproof fabric on the truck has long been worn and tattered from years of wind and rain, with a few loose threads hanging from the edges. The whole truck looks completely unmaintained, perhaps due to the owner's careless personality; the exterior of the truck is rough and dilapidated, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

At first glance, it looks more like an old, abandoned truck left unattended in the wilderness.

But clearly, everything in the wilderness has its reasons. If someone were driving a car decorated with pink fuzzy bunnies in the wilderness, that person would either be a madman who wouldn't dare mess with the wilderness, or an utterly foolish idiot. In contrast, a dilapidated truck that's completely unworthy of attention is undoubtedly a smart and safe choice.

Beside the truck, a burly figure wearing an iron helmet sat leisurely on the spare tire, with a simple tent set up next to him and freshly brewed tea on a small wooden table.

Perhaps not expecting anyone to come to this place, he seemed a little lost in thought for a moment, and even when Gerald and Seria approached, he still did not notice their presence.

Until Gerald spoke.

“Look at our ‘Good Enough’,” he said. “He didn’t come all the way from the underground of Tremont to the eastern wasteland just to wait for an old friend he hasn’t seen in years.”

"Ah, good morning, good afternoon, and good evening, my friend."

Upon hearing this, the stranger—Goodenoff, or rather, Kannot—finally reacted and replied in a low, hoarse voice, "To be precise, it has been three years since we first met near the wasteland of Kazimir."

Saria keenly grasped the significance of this timing, so she chose to stand quietly to the side and listen silently to their conversation.

“If you hadn’t been out of Tremont at the time, I probably would have gone to see you before I went to prison.”

Gerald shielded his head from the sun with his hand, then deliberately moved closer to Saria. "The sword and clothes I have can probably fetch a good price."

"Oh yes, I sometimes feel a pang of regret that I could have met you before you went to Mansfield."

Until the figure in the iron helmet turned his gaze to Saria: "Ha, the founder of Rhine Lab? I bet your experience in prison was quite exciting, my friend."

"Alright, do you want us to come in and sit down, or do you want to keep waiting for your 'friend' who will probably never come?" Gerald glanced around. "The wind isn't making any noise, I think they probably can't find you."

"I guess so. Poor kid. I hope he was just delayed by something."

Kannot gestured up and down with his heavy helmet, then looked towards Saria: "Come on, it's a bit cramped, but please forgive me, esteemed lady. After all, some of these items aren't cheap, so I had to make room in the car for them—watch your step when you pass by."

……

The interior of the truck was less about spaciousness and more about making the most of every inch of space, because the goods weren't deliberately wrapped in oil paper and stored in a specific location. Instead, they were simply placed around the truck in an exhibition-like manner.

The first thing Seria saw at the entrance was a jigsaw puzzle depicting the old Iberian Cathedral. The splendor of the Golden Age and the white towers were a masterpiece whose extraordinary nature was obvious even to a layman. But now, the artwork was placed crookedly on the wall, and she could even see some dust on it.

This isn't right.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? You can’t just find these things anywhere.” Gerald whispered to Saria, “That’s normal. The first time I met him, even though I almost died, this was the only thing on my mind. It was definitely suspicious.”

He instinctively dodged the prop box that nearly tripped him; it contained a music box, a key, sheet music, and an empty jewelry box, the contents of which Kannot had probably already been taken. Then he gently pulled Saria closer to him, making sure she was out of the way of the strange mask hanging from the ceiling behind her.

Gerald dodged his surroundings as he said, "My assessment is that there's no need to dwell on these things. If you're interested, you can buy these items with just refined Originium Ingots—only for clients he approves of."

"Are you one of them too?"

Saria carefully tucked her tail into her body to avoid damaging the things that were lying around.

After thinking for a moment, Gerald said softly:

"Well, I only heard some of his remarks and talked to him about them. Although I also know that behind his remarks there is probably something more complicated than just simple theory."

“But understanding and respect are prerequisites for friendship,” he continued. “This is especially true in the wilderness, so I don’t mind making a friend, and he doesn’t mind selling an extra item to a friend.”

……

After passing through the space filled with artifacts, they finally found a place to sit down. Gerald was also able to move his body a little further away from Saria to avoid unnecessary physical contact.

The strange man with the iron helmet walked to the back of the truck, to a wooden chair reserved for his use. He leaned back and fixed his gaze on Gerald.

After a long silence, he placed his forearms on the table, crossed his hands, and remained silent for a while before saying, "I saw a moving plate flying over the wilderness earlier. My friend, what you guys did is really scary. The Colombian authorities must be terrified."

"Luckily it didn't hit your car. Now, I just hope that when that thing goes out of control, it won't run into anyone on the road."

Gerald found a place to sit down and sighed silently. "I won't ask you why you're here, Cannot. As you can see, the two people in front of you have been stranded in the wilderness and desperately need someone to give us a ride and bring us some hope of survival."

It was probably just his imagination, but as he said those words, a muffled thud suddenly came from the helmet in front of him. Hopefully, it wasn't the sound of Kannot choking.

Then, naturally, Kannot rubbed his fingers together: "Of course, I won't refuse a friend's request, as long as there's some money for directions."

“However, we can’t set off until at least tomorrow,” he quickly added. “Although I’m a little annoyed by their lateness, businessmen always have to be patient.”

"The one who embroiders hammers?" Gerald asked with great interest.

“This time it’s not like that. It’s more like a rather unique friend.” His gaze passed through the iron helmet and landed on the person in front of him: “Sometimes it takes hundreds of years to sell something. It takes from the day a person’s grandfather dies until his grandson grows up before the value of the item increases.”

"Okay, I won't think about what the riddle in your words means. In short, we have to stay here for one night."

Geraldton shrugged and looked at Seria beside him: "Is there something urgent to take care of? If we're going to go through the surrounding messenger stations, at least we can save some walking."

“It’s a feasible plan.” Seria nodded in agreement. “Although we’re not sure if we’ll encounter any search teams coming to arrest us, we can bypass Ticalendo and go directly to Trimont. Things will be much smoother from there. I can also help you find a way to get to Kazimierz.”

After discussing and reaching a conclusion, Gerald nodded and looked back at Cannot: "Then—"

"There is only one sleeping bag. You can use the firewood yourself. No one can live in the carriage. A feathered beast will be provided for dinner."

Before Gerald could react, Kannot had already calculated everything and placed the bill in front of Saria.

"Including the guide fee, one refined Originium Ingot. Thank you for your patronage."

Chapter 45 You're Too Weak, Saria (4k6)

Although Kannot wouldn't allow them to sleep in the car, the roof was a good option; there was enough space to fit a sleeping bag without the dust on the ground bothering them.

The wind wall can firmly block all external attacks, so they don't have to worry about wind and rain, making the wilderness less unbearable that night.

The desolation is only relative to humans; there is still lush life growing here, even if it is just some inconspicuous small animals or plants that adapt to the harsh environment. They all silently continue their own lives in this wilderness, so that passers-by can have a meal from time to time.

Snapped.

A feathered beast swept across the sky and crashed into an invisible wall of air without warning. It tumbled around in a panic, then fell to the ground in a daze. Before it could fully react, a hand reached out and picked it up.

Gerald flicked his dagger lightly, swiftly and precisely slicing it across the winged beast's neck.

Bleeding, plucking hair, gutting.

We set aside the seasonings we borrowed from Kannot, sorted out the wild vegetables and mushrooms we had gathered along the way, and blanched the meat and vegetables. The nearest forest was right next to us, and with each of us splitting up, the round trip and the gathering took only about half an hour.

Considering that someone should have absolutely no experience with wilderness living, Gerald decided to send her to chop some firewood to burn that night, since the amount that Cannot had in the wagon was simply not enough.

"...So what do you mean by bringing the logs over directly?"

"I'm worried that we might not have enough firewood at night, considering that I don't have any practical experience with this kind of knowledge."

Saria threw the trees she was carrying on her shoulder to the ground with a thud. "Just in case, a permanent solution is always a better choice. Also, we can use the remaining wood to try building some traps and fences nearby to prevent other roaming animals from attacking us at night."

She brushed the sawdust and leaves off her clothes and glanced around: "Where is Mr. Cannot?"

“He doesn’t eat with us in the car. I’ve never even seen him take off his helmet.”

Gerald's hands didn't stop because of Vaiva's violence. He casually grabbed a cloth and wiped the blood off his hands. "You don't eat offal, right?"

“I can try.”

Seria replied briefly, her focus now primarily on the pieces of wood in front of her.

For her, the idea of ​​burning firewood was only a memory, a memory of the parties hosted by the heads of various departments at Rhine Life Sciences.

The house back then had a fireplace with a carefully designed structure that made the fire burn brightly and warmly. You could just throw in a few short pieces of wood and keep the air circulating, and leave it to burn on its own.