Madin recounted the rumors he had heard, while Dex added the details.

　　Over the past few months, beggars like them had occasionally brought back armguards that were seventy percent new or dented pieces of leg armor. Once, after stealing two fresh pies, they asked a friendly street sweeper where they could make a small fortune. The man told them about a spot near the third outpost of Fort Zoran.

　　Charles found it hard to believe, yet the two children spoke as if they’d seen it with their own eyes.

　　Eventually, he decided to check it out himself—perhaps he might even uncover clues about Senpo.

　　Maybe we should’ve gone to take a look earlier, he thought.

　　The next morning, he demonstrated how to catch fish only twice before setting off with the children, bringing food and water along.

　　As they drew closer to Fort Zoran, their hearts grew heavier. This was the place where their group had once been stopped, and every inch of soil here was soaked in orc blood.

　　Each time they thought of it, cruel scenes resurfaced in their minds, filling them with sorrow and anger.

　　After four days of travel, the three finally caught sight of the first outpost.

　　Charles remembered it—number nine. Behind the square stone bunker at the top had once stood three skilled archers.

　　The upper level of the tower had six rectangular windows, the middle fourteen, and the bottom at least twenty.

　　Madin stared blankly at the structure, not even turning his head as they walked past.

　　“Mr. Charles,” he asked softly, “what kind of battle happened here?”

　　“A bloody one,” Charles replied.

　　“Why did the orcs attack?”

　　“It was a rebellion. Humans invaded orc territory and enslaved them. The orcs had no choice but to unite and fight back.”

　　“But... don’t orcs often slaughter humans?”

　　Charles sighed. “Rulers will say whatever serves their goals—forcing others to fight for them or making refusal impossible. But that’s not our concern now. We’re just here to try our luck.”

　　“Can’t we be friends?” Dex asked innocently.

　　“Wise beings have long memories,” Charles said, glancing down at the two unlikely companions. “Come on, let’s move on.”

　　It took them nearly an hour and a half to reach the third outpost, passing the old fortress and the abandoned human camp before it.

　　Charles tilted his head, gazing across at the other side where the orc encampment used to stand. He could still make out the faint traces of its foundations.

　　It was his first time being this close to Fort Zoran, and a strange excitement welled within him.

　　Before the campaign, he had studied the area carefully: to the northeast of the third outpost lay the first and second; to the southeast, the fourth; to the east, a sparse forest—nothing remarkable.

　　Approaching with quiet anticipation, he found the outpost no different from the others. Moss crept unevenly up the walls, and tangled vines covered the shaded rear side. When the wind blew, it carried a faint cloud of dust.

　　The irregular footprints on the ground told them many had been here before.

　　As “cleaners,” their luck was terrible. They searched inside and outside for nearly two hours but found only a single rusted nail still stuck in a wall.

　　Madin even dug through the grass nearby, but found nothing.

　　Charles, an experienced explorer, fared no better—no trace of the people or clues he’d hoped to find.

　　In the end, there were only two conclusions to be drawn from this trip: wasted time and regret.

　　“Alright, let’s leave,” he said.

　　“I’m tired,” Dex complained, sitting down on the ground.

　　“This place could become a bandit hideout at any time,” Charles warned. “It might also draw patrols. If you don’t want trouble, we’d better go.”

　　“Haha, good one,” Madin scoffed. “If anyone wants these rags of ours, Mr. Charles, keep an eye on our bags.”

　　After thinking for a moment, Charles agreed that staying half a day and a night wouldn’t hurt.

　　“Fine, just one night. I’ll send you back to the forest in the morning,” he said.

　　The three of them climbed to the second floor of the lookout post, cleared a small area, and enjoyed a rare moment of peace.

　　Then—

　　Clang...

　　Several sharp metallic sounds shattered the quiet night. Charles immediately recognized it: metal striking stone, then falling.

　　They hadn’t seen any large iron or copper tools during the day, which made the sound even more suspicious.

　　Moving quietly, he climbed to the third floor and slipped through a narrow passage to the top of the post.

　　Under the shadowed canopy, something with wings was tearing at something on the ground.

　　He looked closer.

　　It was a small human corpse—bloody and half-devoured.

　　From the shape of the winged creature, he could tell it was female.

　　“Lady... what are you doing?”

　　The winged creature turned, startled. “Lizardman?”

　　Charles saw the blood on her mouth and chest, the flesh still clinging to her lips, and the mangled body beneath her. The sight made his stomach turn.

　　The corpse’s armor had been stripped off; one arm still wore a wrist guard, while the other was snapped clean in half. Clearly, the guard had gotten in her way—like a clam too hard to crack—so she’d tossed aside the unchewable parts.

　　“Enjoying your dinner?”

　　The female winged creature flinched and backed away. “This is my food. You trying to steal it?”

　　Her feathers rose along her shoulders, arms, and back like bristles.

　　Something about her reminded him of the leopard-man at the inn. He recalled someone saying that most winged creatures lacked higher intelligence—they struggled to control their primal instincts, and food-guarding was one of them.

　　“I just came to check the noise,” Charles said calmly. “I’ve no interest in taking your meal. I’ll stay at the doorway if that helps. My name’s Charles.”

　　He gestured openly, showing he meant no harm.

　　The winged creature didn’t believe him. Abandoning her meal for now, she spread her wings and flew off to a distant tree.

　　Charles sighed. “Disgusting.”

　　He kicked the corpse to the ground below and quietly descended to the first floor.

　　Outside, he found the body again—now missing another arm. Only a torso and two wrist guards remained.

　　At that moment, he finally understood why people had been scavenging near the third outpost.

　　Without hesitation, he picked up the guards and hurled them deep into the woods, then pretended to leave.

　　Sure enough, after ten minutes, the winged creature returned.

　　“I knew you wouldn’t abandon your dinner,” he said, standing behind her.

　　The winged woman froze in panic and pulled out a sharp dagger—but before she could strike, she saw his crossbow bolt still untouched on his back, his sword still sheathed at his waist.

　　“I’m telling the truth,” Charles said again.

　　What happened next shocked him—the short dagger in her hand turned transparent, and so did her body.

　　A chill wind swept past his side.

　　Spotting a faint blur, he drove his fist into her chest and pressed a black magic blade to her throat.

　　“Madam, you’d better clean up the blood,” he said evenly, giving her a gentle shove that sent her three meters away.

　　The winged woman lost all will to fight and immediately fled into the night sky.

　　Charles looked at the bloody mess, dug a shallow grave, and buried the corpse.

　　He didn’t want to frighten the children—or let Madin learn that some orcs still ate humans.

　　After cleaning up by the river, he retrieved the wrist guards and returned to the second floor of the outpost.

　　At dawn, he sent the two children back to the forest.

　　As for the “spoils,” he lied, saying he’d met a passing merchant at midnight and bought the wrist guards as gifts.