A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

"Um... could you explain that to me?"

"They are areas protected by special magic circles." Bray thought that the elves might have a different meaning for "safe zones," so he explained it briefly.

"A special magic circle?" To everyone's surprise, the elf frowned upon hearing this.

"do not know?"

"do not know."

Bray didn't know what to say.

“I’ve been living a life of near-wandering ever since that day, and I’ve never seen a place like the one you’re talking about,” the elf said irritably.

"I was actually quite surprised when I first saw you."

Honestly, there are no elves in the wilderness. Isn't this guy afraid of dying? This place is full of monsters.

“I didn’t realize you were so surprised.” Bray looked at the elf incredulously.

No one who is surprised would calmly sit down and eat meat together.

"Because I've caught your composure... I always feel a little strange if I make a fuss," the male elf said.

"..." Bray didn't want to speak; it turned out that this was all his fault.

"I still have meat...want some?" he tried asking, hoping this low-level temptation might work.

"Eat." The male elf answered decisively, his tone suggesting he was afraid Bray might change his mind.

"Then tell me more."

"Whatever, it's not a secret anyway," the elf said.

---

Tempted by the many pieces of fried meat, the elf talked a lot.

On the day of the disaster, there was no magic circle in his city at all.

When the Silver Seeds attacked, many people scattered and fled.

The vast majority died, but a small number of people survived.

It's easy for an individual to die in the wild, but a large group is also very conspicuous, so people usually survive in groups of a dozen or so in the wilderness.

Those who lived a nomadic life, relying on wild flora and fauna to survive to this day.

However, due to practical reasons, they never made long-distance migrations because they lacked the resources for such journeys.

Since they never know when they might run into a demigod, their houses are very simple, the kind that they wouldn't feel bad about demolishing.

Their creed is that as long as they are as insignificant as roadside pebbles, the demigods will ignore them.

The fact that a demigod ignores you is your only chance of survival.

In fact, they have survived in the wilderness to this day by relying on this belief, living in fear and trembling.

While silver-level beings would certainly crush lower-level beings if they encountered them, they wouldn't bother to act if the lower-level beings were insignificant and far away.

After all, it's unlikely that a silver-level species would go to great lengths to find groups of three to five lower-level species.

Among this group of people, each had their own role, forming the camp.

To maintain their camp, they typically need fruit, weak monsters, and nearby water sources.

If you can find some junk, you should be extremely grateful.

Once the broken parts are repaired, they become incredibly valuable items.

The place described above was the only form of communal living that the male elf could recall; as for the fancy safe zones, he had never even heard of them.

When he learned from Bray that there were places to hide from the Silver Seeds, his jaw dropped in astonishment.

"There are places like this?" The elf shrugged, surprisingly with an indifferent expression on his face.

"So you're one of those camps too?" he wondered, thinking that this male elf must also be one of those camps.

"No," the elf replied, eating the meat.

“…” Bray fell silent.

"You need to understand, that kind of camp could be destroyed in a heartbeat. Even without silver-level monsters, demons could destroy it."

"Of the dozen or so camps I know of, only one or two are still alive."

“So even living in the camp is still dangerous. Wouldn’t it be suicide for me to live in those places?” the elf explained to Bray with a matter-of-fact air.

“That’s your reason for wandering alone.” Bray said it as if he had a solid reason, but something just didn’t feel right.

"Well, I can survive on my own. If I encounter danger, I run away; if there's no one to talk to, I go to a camp," the elf said calmly, as if it were some casual conversation.

"But I really have to thank you. I haven't eaten meat in so long," the elf said with great emotion.

During this period, his staple food has been fruit, and he hasn't touched any meat.

“I used to be a hunter, but I never imagined that without tools I wouldn’t even be able to eat meat.” With that, he made a gesture of drawing a bow.

“Do you… want to know where the safe zone is?” Bray tried to ask.

"Yes, I do." The elf looked at Bray with interest; he really wanted to know where the safe zone was.

In the eyes of elves, a place that can drive away silver-level creatures must be very "prosperous".

It should have more resources than any of the camps in the wilderness, no matter what.

“If I remember correctly… I came from this safe zone.” Bray hesitated for a moment before pointing towards Claw Keep.

"really?"

“Why would I lie to you?” Bray shrugged.

“Every safe zone faces a dilemma: there’s no one there. They’re quite happy to increase the population.”

"But when you go, be prepared to be mistaken for a monster," Bray kindly reminded them. Claw Fortress had been in turmoil lately due to those monsters, so outsiders would definitely be treated with suspicion.

"What is a mimicry beast..." The elf suddenly realized how ignorant he was.

"It can transform into a monster that looks like a human—human, orc, elf, anything," Bray explained simply.

"I see." The elf nodded, seemingly understanding, clearly not realizing how dangerous the monster was.

"By the way, have you been wandering around this area all this time?" Bray asked the elf, remembering something.

"Hmm." The elf looked at Bray with a puzzled expression, not understanding why the other party was asking this.

Isn't this an obvious question? Besides wandering around here, could he have wandered over from another continent?

"So how did you survive?" Bray asked curiously, looking at the seemingly ordinary elf.

Despite his unusual appearance, Bray couldn't sense any strong aura emanating from him.

“That’s it,” the elf said.

Then, the next second, Bray had the illusion that the other person had vanished from his sight.

Even though the elf is sitting right in front of you, you can easily overlook its presence if you're not paying attention.

"Do you understand?" the elf said casually.

“I think I understand,” Bray said, then buried his face in his meat.

The elf used a similar method to his concealment technique just now, but it's clear that this elf is more capable of concealing his presence. At least Bray can't be ignored by others.

Is this guy really that strong? I can't tell... Even though this elf is indeed very strong, Bray still has a "really or not" feeling.

The elf I was chatting with didn't seem very smart, but it was surprisingly helpful?

"This is a hunter's basic skill. If your presence is too obvious, small animals will run away before you even arrive," the male elf said.

Bray suddenly felt ashamed of calling himself a hunter; he was utterly pathetic.

"Want to get to know each other?" Bray asked.

“Atwood,” the elf said his name without hesitation.

“The name means someone who lives in the forest, and I’ve always liked it,” Atwood added proudly after finishing his statement.

“Breaklas,” Bray said, also stating his name.

“You’re such a strange person. Is it really necessary to give someone your last name when we just met?” Atwood looked at Bray with a peculiar expression.

“It’s necessary.” Bray nodded seriously, saying that including the surname was a basic tradition.

Whether the Claas family actually has this tradition is basically up to Bray to decide.

“Alright.” Atwood didn’t intend to dwell on Bray’s name any longer.

Anyway, Bray fed him so much meat, so what if he's a weirdo?

He's a good person; being a little eccentric isn't a problem.

So, the two of them, who both thought others were strange, sat up and started eating meat again.

While eating, Bray thought of something and stopped eating.

"Have you ever seen any of these things before?" Bray tossed the memo to the elf, thinking that the guy might recognize the road signs on it.

The elf took the notebook with a start, then began to read it with a puzzled expression.

"I've seen some of them before...and there's this collapsed, ghost-face-shaped stone gate written on it..."

“A camp was set up right here,” the elf said.

He knew that some people had recently settled in places that happened to be near this stone gate.

The main reason is that the stone gate is tilted very much, but it is supported by pillars so that it will not fall down and can provide shelter from the wind and rain.

It's a perfect place for homeless people.

In places like this, you feel much safer and don't have to live in fear every day.

“Ghost Face Stone Gate...the thirteenth landmark,” Bray murmured, realizing he was getting close to his destination.

"Can you take me to that camp?"

“No problem,” the elf readily agreed.

For Atwood, taking Bray to the camp was actually a very troublesome matter.

It would waste both the effort of leading the way and the time spent searching for food.

Atwood took Bray to that camp for one reason only: he had brought a lot of food with him and had generously shared a considerable amount with him.

This meal of meat alone is enough to make him do such a thankless and arduous task.

Maybe if Bray is happy, he can get a free meal next time he runs into him while wandering around the area.

Isn't that wonderful?

“But you should be careful, the people in the camp are never friendly to outsiders,” Atwood reminded Bray.

"Why is it unfriendly?"

"Nonsense, if a complete stranger comes, they might try to take advantage of their already limited resources," Atwood said irritably.

"You have absolutely no sense of social etiquette."

"..." Bray couldn't understand what this had to do with interpersonal relationships.

"Anyway, come with me, I'll take you to that Ghost Face Stone Gate."

"As for what happens next, you can decide for yourself," Atwood said, shrugging.

“Okay.” Bray thought this was normal and didn’t say anything.

---

Led by Atwood, Bray quickly found the road signs behind him.

They also found the group of people living under the so-called road sign, which was the camp that Atwood had mentioned.

Bray didn't know how to describe the people living beneath the Ghost Face Stone Gate.

This tilted, ghost-faced stone gate and pillars form a natural shelter from the wind, but it is a place that could collapse at any moment.

Although it appears quite stable at the moment.

There is nothing that can be called a building in this place, only temporary dwellings made of grass, wood and mud.