Just as Renith and Mislien were completely absorbed in watching the ball game, a lazy, slightly petulant voice suddenly came from behind them.
“It’s so cold…”
Vimia ambled over. Though she was wrapped in a heavy coat, underneath she wore only thin undergarments. Cradling a steaming cup of goat’s milk in her hands, she felt the biting chill of winter and couldn’t help but sigh.
Renith cast a faint glance at her, then silently turned her head the other way.
Seeing this, Vimia smiled lightly, set her hot milk gently on the ground, and with some effort squeezed herself between Mislien and Renith, slowly pulling up her coat’s zipper.
She rested her head lightly on Mislien’s shoulder, took a sip of the hot milk from her cup, and wore a blissful smile on her face.
“Watching the game without me? How could you~”
Vimia twisted her body coquettishly, her voice carrying a hint of playful complaint, as if airing a tiny grievance to Mislien.
Hearing that coy tone, Mislien couldn’t help but shiver.
Compared to the vibrant energy she’d shown yesterday, today’s Vimia was unusually gentle. The little boost he’d gotten from his cigarette was instantly wiped out by the exhaustion from the night before.
It seemed that last night, Mislien had indeed displayed extraordinary charm.
Yet Mislien appeared unmoved by Vimia’s cajoling—his gaze remained fixed on the game, as if that was what truly mattered to him at this moment.
Just a moment ago, the forward on the field had deftly gotten past the defender and delivered a sharp shot—the ball sailed straight past the goalkeeper and through the wooden goal frame.
First blood!
“Not bad at all! That kick was way better than those guys on the regular pitch!”
Mislien exclaimed in praise.
Seeing that Mislien had completely ignored her, Vimia shot him a glare and gave his thigh a hard pinch, as if expressing her little displeasure.
Vimia had also “scored a point,” then turned to snuggle up next to Renith and strike up a conversation.
“Miss Anna, I hear you’re a geology researcher—you must have traveled to quite a few places, right?”
Renith nodded and replied with a smile:
“Yes, I’ve indeed been to several places.”
Seeing this, Vimia pressed on:
“Then you must know some secret scenic spots, right? The kind that few people know about but are breathtakingly beautiful.”
Renith smiled faintly and began to share with Vimia the sights of the Empire.
She had indeed visited those places in person back then, but time had passed—decades, even a century—and the landscapes there had changed greatly.
However, the vast collection of books in the Brand University Library in Mobis City had more than filled that gap for Renith. Even if she hadn’t been to those places recently, the research materials from the past few years were more than enough to make her accounts convincingly authentic.
“But my top recommendation isn’t actually within the Empire’s borders.”
“The Empire has been developed too quickly, and the original natural scenery is steadily vanishing. If conditions and opportunities allow, you could cross the Northern Alliance and go see the snowscapes in the beastman territories. But not recently, I’m afraid—I hear the beastmen have been clashing with the human side in the Northern Alliance.”
The Northern Alliance is a buffer zone between beastmen and humans. To prevent border conflicts between the two great powers, the human Emperor and the Great Beastman Chieftain of that era jointly demarcated this region as a buffer for conflict and war.
Of course, since the two countries had long been at peace, leaving such a large swath of land unused would have been a waste.
So both nations signed a series of trade treaties, encouraging their citizens to open shops in the Northern Alliance and sell each other’s specialty goods.
At the same time, they adopted a rotating supervisory system—under the overarching policies set by both countries, issues arising within the territory in a given year would be handled by one side, while issues the following year would be handled by the other.
These treaties attracted large numbers of citizens from both sides to settle in the Northern Alliance, and the local residents benefited greatly as well.
However, the recent clashes between beastmen and humans in the Northern Alliance seemed to stem precisely from problems with the implementation of this rotation clause.
“What a pity.”
Vimia sighed. She’d never set foot outside the Empire in her entire life. If she ever had the chance, she really would have liked to see the extreme northern ice fields that Renith had described.
“Oh! What a brilliant counterattack!”
Just as Renith and Vimia were chatting animatedly, Mislein suddenly let out a strange, contorted, yet fervent shriek of excitement.
He hadn’t expected the wing player from the No-Wood team to have deliberately shown an opening—the defender aimed at the opposing forward, stole the ball with a sliding tackle!
Seeing this, the forward from No-Wood seized the opportunity, dribbled past the defender, and slammed the ball into the opponent’s goal!
What a play!
This match was far more thrilling than some of the games on the official field!
Mislien silently praised in his mind. He hadn’t imagined that such hidden talents existed in this tiny village—if they received proper training, they could surely become giants in the football world.
“The score is now 1–1!”
Mislien even began imitating the commentators from the actual games.
“After an intense first half, the Wood team and the No-Wood team are tied! In the second half, they switch sides, and due to No-Wood’s relentless attacks, the Wood team’s coach is forced to adjust formation.”
“At the 25th minute, the Wood team earns a corner kick! Wood takes it—the ball curls to the far post! He leaps high—header on goal!”
“No-Wood’s goalkeeper reacts lightning-fast, palming the ball over the bar! But the ball lands just outside the penalty area—the Wood team’s winger volleys! The ball rockets into the net like a cannonball! 2–1! The Wood team regains the advantage!”
The six kids on the Wood team, overjoyed at winning the ball, huddled together in celebration. But the match wasn’t over yet—everyone returned to their positions.
“The game enters the final ten minutes! Both sides are running on empty! No-Wood launches a long pass from the back—a sprint duel between the two forwards! No-Wood’s forward shields the ball with his body—Wood’s player grabs and pulls!”
“That’s an absolute foul—if there were a referee, he’d surely get a yellow card! Oh my, because of the tug, Wood’s star player has fallen!”
The two forwards tussled, and the No-Wood forward accidentally tripped the Wood forward.
The Wood forward hit the ground hard—he looked badly hurt.
“Oh dear, oh dear… the Wood forward is injured! Let’s go over and take a closer look!”
With that, Mislein braved the cold and walked toward the makeshift pitch. Vimia and Renith exchanged glances and followed.
The pitch was crude—just white powder, from who-knows-where, marking the boundary lines, and simple wooden frames for goals.
Mislien reached the kids just as the forward got up from the sandy ground, clutching the ball tightly. He seemed completely oblivious to the blood trickling from his leg, already eager to start another round.
“Your game was fantastic!”
Mislien praised them, then sternly reprimanded the kid who had pulled the opposing forward. But the little fellow didn’t look upset at all—instead, he cheerfully admitted his mistake.
Mislien frowned and quickly turned to the injured child.
There was no sign of pain on his face—he was chatting and laughing with the others, as if nothing had happened.
“How strange… kids usually have such low pain tolerance.”
Renith looked at the scene, a sense of unease washing over her.
“The one you scolded can be explained normally—after all, kids make mistakes. But that injured boy is truly odd.”
“Injury brings pain. No matter how tough a child is, he can’t just shake off knee pain in an instant, nor can he chat so naturally with others right after falling.”
Renith continued, putting herself in the boy’s shoes.
“If I got hurt on the field, I’d immediately cover my wound, grit my teeth, and force a smile to tell my teammates it’s nothing. But this kid didn’t even glance at his wound—he just laughed and chatted with those around him.”
“And his teammates noticed too—none of them showed any sign of telling him to get it bandaged.”
“Uncle, Uncle, do you want to play too?”
The forward held up the ball, as if inviting Mislein to join. But Mislein’s expression had soured, his eyes fixed on the child’s wound.
Renith followed Mislein’s gaze—and saw that a strange, blood-red pattern had appeared on the boy’s wound!
What was that?
Her brow furrowed as well.
“No, no, I’ll just watch from the sidelines… Oh, by the way, you’re hurt—you should go wash that wound.”
Mislein said.
Only then did the forward notice his injury.
“Oh! Thanks, Uncle—I didn’t even realize!”
He said a quick word to his friends and ran off home.
Though one was missing, the others didn’t mind and went right back to their rough-and-tumble game.
“You know something about this, don’t you?”
On the way back, Renith approached Mislein. Judging by his grim expression, she guessed he wasn’t entirely in the dark.
“Yes… I do know a thing or two.”
Mislein nodded, hesitating as if debating whether to speak.
“Care to elaborate?”
Renith pressed, suspecting it had something to do with the transmigrators. After all, in this world, she couldn’t think of any other explanation for such eerie phenomena besides the power of transmigrators or gods.
“Knowing won’t do you any good.”
“Better tell Miss Anna.”
Vimia, walking beside them, spoke up.
“Knowing is also a form of insurance for her, isn’t it? Besides, even if we don’t say anything, she’ll find out once she enters Ongler City.”
Hearing Vimia’s words, Mislein stopped holding back.
The three sat back down in their original spots, and Mislein began:
“This thing is called the ‘Pain-Easing Thorn’—it appeared suddenly over twenty years ago.”
“More than twenty years back, a new lord came to Ongler City. He brought the ‘Pain-Easing Thorn’ with him, and every resident within Ongler’s jurisdiction was branded with this ‘mark.'”
“Of course, I was lucky—I wasn’t raised in this city, so I never got the mark.”
“Those who bear it can no longer feel any pain—neither physical nor emotional.”
