Reddish-brown dried earth, scattered trees sprouting here and there, and dust painting the distant horizon yellow.
Due to the wasteland spread below Hisaril Hill, no large villages or cities could develop in this area.
It couldn't supply enough food for a large population, nor did it have any specialties worth buying food from elsewhere.
As a result, Turan had to walk and walk through the wasteland without meeting a single person.
Though it was fresh scenery unseen on the hill, that novelty lasted only briefly—after a full day, he couldn't help but tire of it.
He walked somewhat slowly, half enjoying his first journey and half wanting to conserve mana in case something happened, but even that pace was comparable to an ordinary person running.
If a normal traveler had walked, it probably would have taken three days just to get this far.
Yet seeing nothing suggested he had probably passed several villages without encountering them.
Well, as long as he didn't have to worry about food and drink, he'd eventually arrive somewhere if he kept walking...
"Come."
When he stretched his hand toward the sky and commanded, a bird flying in the distance approached and perched on it.
Commanding animals was something he had done without fail since gaining magic, so he could do it as easily as breathing.
Turan broke the perched bird's neck with his other hand, then took out a knife from his bag to pluck its feathers and skin it.
Finally, he made a cut in the neck and concentrated, causing blood to pour out.
'Where...'
A dark red, sticky mass dropped from the flowing blood, and clear water separated and rose up.
Magic to extract drinkable water from blood.
This was one of the techniques learned from Keorn—hundreds of times more efficient than creating water from empty air.
After filling his leather water skin and eating the roasted bird meat with the sheep's milk cheese he had, his meal was complete.
How long had he walked after filling his stomach?
Around when the sun was rising to its zenith, he saw people coming down a low hill opposite him.
Six in total.
All were men wearing dust-covered cloaks typical of travelers and carrying short swords that seemed to be for self-defense.
Behind them they pulled a large cart covered with cloth—they appeared to be traveling merchants who went around villages.
Though he had never met them directly, he had heard stories about such people occasionally visiting the village below the hill.
When Turan blocked their path, a middle-aged man who appeared to be the leader asked with a wary expression:
"Who are you to block our path?"
"I'm a lone traveler. Could you tell me if there's a city nearby?"
At this polite question, the merchant-looking men tilted their heads and looked at each other.
Then, Turan noticed several of them looking at him with sharp gazes.
Gazes mixed with desire rather than wariness, like hunters watching their prey...
The leader spoke in a much ruder tone than before:
"Follow the road we came from and you'll reach a city called Murei. If you're not an idiot, you shouldn't have trouble finding it by following the wheel tracks."
Turan slightly frowned at the unpleasant tone but nodded.
He didn't want to argue about why they were speaking that way.
After all, he was the one who had suddenly blocked their path to ask questions, and they had ultimately given him the information he wanted.
"Thank you."
After bowing his head in greeting, he started to move following the wheel tracks as they had said, but one of the merchants blocked his path.
A vile smile was spread across his face as he looked this way.
"Wait. If you receive something, you should give something. Are you trying to run away after just taking information?"
"First open that bag. Looks quite full."
The merchants had surrounded Turan before he knew it.
Some had even drawn their swords, seeming ready to cut his throat the moment he resisted.
"Bandits?"
"Let's call it a side business. Just leave the bag and get lost. We'll spare your clothes. We don't particularly enjoy taking lives."
Turan's enhanced sense of smell sometimes detected even emotions in the form of scents.
Though not always, and only for nearby targets and particularly intense emotions.
And now, the bandits surrounding him gave off the scent of predators just before tearing into their prey.
Their words about letting him go were lies—it seemed they wanted him to remove the bag himself to prevent his belongings from getting bloodied.
"Good, I'll practice with you guys."
"What?"
Turan spread his palm wide and swept it horizontally while imagining the small wind he created growing hundreds of times stronger.
The gale, growing in power as it consumed mana, instantly swept up and threw away all six bandits.
"Aaaagh-!"
Indeed, creating wind by directly making a hand motion and amplifying it consumed far less mana than just creating wind.
This too was one of the techniques learned from Keorn, like extracting water from blood.
Looking at the thrown bandits, one seemed to have broken his neck in the fall and couldn't get up, while another was limping with what appeared to be a broken leg before collapsing.
Turan used a second spell toward the four bandits who were struggling to stand up covered in dirt.
It started with untying the water skin at his waist.
Water that seeped out from the opening transformed into sharp ice needles emanating heat, then flew following Turan's gesture and pierced one bandit's abdomen.
This was supposedly magic that could be useful when there was plenty of water around?
"Argghhh!"
"I'm sorry! Please forgive me!"
While the one with the broken leg begged and screamed after throwing away his sword, Turan felt dissatisfied with the magic he had just used.
The flying speed, power, and accuracy were all pathetically inadequate compared to his stone slinging.
Well, stone slinging was a skill he had honed his entire life, so naturally there would be a difference from normal shooting.
As a test, after spinning a second ice needle around a couple times before shooting, it flew several times faster than before and pierced through the neck of a bandit who was running away in the distance.
"Die-!"
At that moment, two bandits who had stealthily approached let out battle cries and charged at Turan.
Turan was about to kick them both away but changed his mind and stomped the ground hard.
Instantly, several large earth spikes shot up from the reddish-brown wasteland, piercing through various parts of the charging men's bodies.
This was a technique that could only be used on dirt ground—raising the earth and transforming its shape into weapons.
"Kuhek..."
Though they were weak humans who could be killed with just a word, getting this rough practical experience gave him some sense of how to fight in the future.
He also had a better idea of which techniques learned over the past three days were useful in actual combat and suited his aptitude.
Since the one stabbed in the stomach would die soon anyway, Turan slowly walked toward the last survivor with the broken leg.
Keorn had taught never to show mercy to such roadside bandits.
If you spare even one out of pity, they'll repay it by harming ten innocent people someday.
Turan intended to thoroughly follow that teaching.
"Ah..."
Just as he reached out toward the man who was trembling and wetting himself, instead of finishing him off, Turan voiced a sudden question.
"Let me ask one thing."
"P-please ask! Magic sir! I'll answer anything!"
Perhaps thinking a possibility of salvation had opened, the bandit bowed his head, ignoring even the pain of his broken leg.
"Why did you attack me so recklessly? A lone traveler could be a wizard like me?"
If Turan were a bandit, he would never have attacked someone like himself.
Even before minimal morality of not harming those who don't harm you, wouldn't it be natural to think that someone traveling alone in such a wasteland might have something up their sleeve?
It's not like they had something they were confident about either.
After hesitating a moment at the question, the bandit answered:
"W-well, because you bowed your head, magic sir..."
"What?"
"When the boss spoke rudely to you, you still bowed and greeted us, so we naturally thought you were an ordinary person."
So the rude tone had been a kind of test.
When Turan had casually greeted them without arguing, they had judged him weak and tried to satisfy their desires.
"Thank you. I learned something good."
That showing weakness in unpopulated places provokes others.
As payment for this good lesson, Turan placed his finger on the forehead of the last survivor and commanded death.
At least he could die without pain.
==
The cart the bandits had been pulling was full of various daily necessities hard to make in the countryside, but judging from their unused condition, they didn't seem to have been stolen or taken by force.
The guess that they were originally merchants wasn't completely wrong.
Since it would be troublesome to take everything, Turan only collected money from their possessions before abandoning the cart and following the wheel tracks.
Perhaps because it was the direction of the city, as he walked, more weeds grew on the reddish-brown earth and the number of trees increased.
Now that he had a clear destination, he ran lightly at several times his previous speed, allowing him to reach the city called Murei that the bandit leader had mentioned by sunset.
"Wow..."
Turan exclaimed at the sight of the city spread below a gentle hill.
Under the setting sun, there were over a hundred people visible walking the streets or working.
Even combining all the residents of the village below Hisaril Hill wouldn't reach that number.
This was the first time since his birth that he had seen so many people together.
After entering, Turan walked slowly through the crowds of people, taking in the city he was seeing for the first time.
The buildings made of dark brown bricks were all similar in shape and two to three stories tall, and sometimes what looked like stalls were set up in front of them selling goods.
The passing people seemed uninterested in each other, neither speaking nor greeting when they met.
Turan quietly observed them before choosing the most idle-looking fruit vendor to speak to.
"Excuse me."
"Hm? A customer?"
"No, I was wondering if you could tell me where an 'inn' is—"
Information about places where foreigners could stay was something he had learned from Keorn.
They said every city should have them.
However, the fruit vendor snorted and shook his head without even listening to Turan's full question.
"If you're not buying fruit, get lost!"
Turan's face hardened momentarily at this harsh attitude.
Should he get angry here to avoid being looked down upon?
But perhaps in the city, it was an unwritten rule that you had to buy fruit to ask questions.
After pondering briefly, Turan nodded and took out his purse.
"Alright. How much is this?"
"Apples are 2 depit each. You look like an outsider, so other coins of similar size are fine too."
When he asked what depit was, it seemed to be the copper currency used in this city.
Since he had some similar coins among those taken from the bandits, Turan used these to buy the fruit.
Though it was his first time seeing this fruit called an apple, it looked wilted and smelled bad, appearing quite unrush.
"Go straight down that road, turn left once, and you'll see an inn with a blue roof and a beer mug painted on it."
Having finally learned the inn's location, Turan took a bite of the apple while walking but threw it away on the street.
It was terribly sour and astringent, enough to make him suspect it might be poisoned.
Fortunately, the fruit vendor hadn't lied about the inn's location—if he had, Turan had planned to go back and give him a taste of sharp magic—and the inn was visible where he had indicated.
When he entered, a young serving girl approached Turan.
"Oh my, what a handsome brother! Are you a guest?"
"Mm."
Turan simply nodded in agreement.
He was internally flustered by the woman's loose clothing that was almost see-through.
He had heard there were people in such places who served and sometimes acted as prostitutes—but hearing about it and seeing it directly were clearly different experiences.
"How much per day?"
"16 depit. 1 rum is fine too. If you have other money, you'll need to ask the owner."
When he asked what rum was, it seemed to be silver currency.
When he held out the money, the serving girl who received it smiled broadly and subtly pressed her body against Turan's shoulder.
"Won't the room be too cold sleeping alone? Should I warm it up for you?"
"No thank you."
Keorn had repeatedly advised against carelessly getting involved with inn serving girls and prostitutes.
Most women who did such work were infected with venereal diseases, and while strong knights and nobles had excellent disease resistance and wouldn't be affected themselves, they would spread it when being intimate with other women later.
"Rather, there's one thing I'd like to ask."
What Turan wanted to ask was whether there were any masu with bounties near the city.
He could grow by killing masu and absorbing their mana, plus earn money as a bonus.
But instead of answering Turan's question, the serving girl pointed to a large beer barrel placed beside her.
The second realization gained after coming down from the hill was that in the city, no question was free.