Chapter Two: No Good People in Wildfire Town (Part One)

Chapter Two: No Good Men in Wildfire Town (Part One)

I must say, brothers, you are truly formidable! After only the first chapter was posted, you’ve already pushed this book to second place on the new book rankings. It’s now in the top fifteen of the weekly recommendation list… and this is just the first chapter! I am overwhelmed by your support—so moved!

If one were to search the entire continent for the most chaotic place, there could be no other answer but Wildfire Town.

Wildfire Town is not its original name. In fact, it has several unofficial titles—mainly due to the muddled question of its ownership. The town sits at the southern edge of the Wildfire Plain, making it a veritable no-man’s-land. When it comes to its jurisdiction, the phrase “the banners of power are always changing” rings especially true.

To the north lies the Empire of Odin, to the south the Empire of Byzantium, and even some of the larger bandit clans have, at one time or another, claimed dominion over this place.

Although Wildfire Town’s location isn’t particularly advantageous, it occupies the most delicate spot in this narrow fissure. The Wildfire Plain boasts no noteworthy resources; instead, it is replete with forests, valleys, and basins. The land here is barren, and the climate is most peculiar.

Each year, cold air from the north brings three long months of winter to the Wildfire Plain. After winter, warm southern sea breezes drift northward, making everyone lethargic and unwilling to move. The intermingling of northern chill and southern warmth results in abundant rainfall, turning the land to mud in summer.

Thus, winter on the Wildfire Plain is bitterly cold and dry, while summer is oppressively hot and humid.

The Odin people of the north are used to icy, frigid climates, but cannot endure the stifling humidity of summer here. The people of Byzantium in the south, meanwhile, cannot tolerate the dry cold of winter.

And since there is little here of value to national interests or daily life, this place is a veritable chicken rib—difficult to enjoy, yet a waste to discard.

The only abundance on the Wildfire Plain is the fierce wild beasts and the countless indigenous tribes, both large and small. These tribes are neither wholly good nor evil. When business is good, they raise a banner and become mercenary bands; when business is bad, they tie a rag around their faces and go out to rob.

Surrounding the plain are dwarf enclaves, filthy and cowardly yet myriad goblin hordes, and forests dense with swamps…

A place like this is used only as a buffer zone when the two great empires are preparing for war; otherwise, no one can be bothered to spare it a glance.

The two empires seem to have reached a tacit understanding: if Byzantium occupies the area, Odin will invade; if Odin takes control, Byzantium will send troops to expel them. Yet neither side is willing to station troops here for long. Thus, as long as neither empire holds it, they simply ignore it, leaving the region a lawless land.

As for the town itself, Wildfire Town has become a haven for all manner of complicated and drifting populations across the continent. Criminals, fugitives, thieves, swindlers, unscrupulous businessmen, adventuring parties, and countless other complex groups all find their paradise here.

An anarchist’s paradise—of all descriptions, this fits Wildfire Town best.

Just recently, several large merchant groups from Byzantium suffered heavy losses to bandits. Pooling their resources, they hired a mercenary tribe to drive off the bandit gang, declared Wildfire Town an important trading hub, and announced its “protection.”

Wildfire Town has everything: carriage services, inns, taverns, gambling dens, brothels, secret hideouts for thieves’ guilds, black markets trading in all manner of contraband, and mercenary exchanges…

This is an adventurer’s paradise.
Honest folk would do well to steer clear of such a place.
Even the tailor in the local shop might well be a fugitive wanted by both empires for years.

…

When Shaya Thunder entered the town, he attracted no attention whatsoever. The tattered wolfskin cloak he wore made him resemble nothing more than a beggar, and the pitchfork at his waist would at best mark him as a “mentally unsound” vagrant.

As Shaya Thunder prowled the streets of Wildfire Town like a hungry wolf, a pair of greedy eyes watched him from the doorway of a nearby shop.

…

If one sought the most accurate word to describe Dodoro’s appearance, it would be “sleazy.” And if an adverb were required, “extremely” would suffice: extremely sleazy!

He was thin—painfully so—little more than skin and bones; yet his cheeks sported two slabs of flabby flesh. His eyebrows hung downward, his eyes were triangular and glinted with sinister, lecherous malice. Even his smile resembled the leer of a dubious uncle luring little girls.

Put simply, with a face like his, just walking the streets at night would invite the suspicious gaze of every patrolling soldier, even if he did nothing at all.

Once, during his student days in the royal capital, Dodoro had an “illustrious” incident: one evening, on a narrow lane, he chanced upon a lady. Having exchanged only a glance, the woman was so terrified by his appearance that she cried out for help.

The city guard rushed over, and—without caring for right or wrong—bound him on the spot. Dodoro tried to protest his innocence, but the guards replied, “You look exactly like the type who’d molest little girls.”

Fortunately, Dodoro no longer suffers such humiliations.

Now, Dodoro holds the most prestigious title on the continent—prestigious without equal!
His official identity is: the esteemed Mage Dodoro.

Of course, this was a self-proclaimed title. In truth, Dodoro was only a low-level, first-tier mage—and, to his misfortune, not a young one. His magical aptitude had been deemed exhausted in the certification exams, leaving him with no further potential for advancement.

Being a mage is a noble calling, but only for those who can truly command the elements. For a low-level mage like Dodoro, with no magical talent, the only option is to work as a hired spellcaster for a mercenary company, scraping by, and hoping to be recruited as a guest by some backwater noble who’s never seen much of the world.

Thus, in the capital or any other city, Dodoro had no prospects. He could only try his luck in remote places like Wildfire Town.

Moreover, his arrival in Wildfire Town was entirely accidental—he had gone bankrupt.

It was an absurd situation: a mage, famed for nobility and wealth, bankrupt?

Yet that was precisely what happened to Dodoro. In an old tome he’d acquired by chance, he found a method to dramatically increase his magical power. Greed overtook him, and he borrowed heavily from a guild to purchase magical materials for his research. The research failed, the materials were mostly consumed.

Even more unfortunate, he later discovered that the so-called “ancient tome” was a counterfeit, forged by a relic dealer!

To a mage, being deceived by such a lowly antiquities swindler was a shame beyond words.

Worse still, the guild he owed was a legitimate organization protected by imperial law. To collect the debt, they even sued him at the Royal Capital’s Mage Guild.

To be sued for defaulting on a debt—and to have the case brought before the Mage Guild itself! It was a scandal unheard of in centuries! Dodoro’s reputation in the capital was utterly ruined; he became the laughingstock of the entire magical community. For a time, this lowly, first-tier mage was better known than the most renowned archmages.

In the end, Dodoro had no choice but to change his name and flee, hoping to try his luck in the lawless Wildfire Plain.

Now, Dodoro’s eyes were fixed on Shaya Thunder.

More precisely, he coveted an object hanging around Shaya Thunder’s neck!

From a mage’s perspective, the moment he laid eyes on the item at Shaya Thunder’s throat, Dodoro’s heart was seized by avarice.

It was a lump of dull gray stone—utterly lacking in luster.

But—by the Almighty—Dodoro would swear it was a top-tier magical crystal core!

…

Shaya Thunder was soon blocked in his path.

Although hunger made him dizzy, the moment he saw the man who obstructed him, he shuddered instinctively.

“Hello, young man. Would you like to make a deal?”

Dodoro tried his best to smile kindly, but his efforts were in vain. For Shaya Thunder’s first reaction was one of guarded suspicion: he gripped the pitchfork at his waist with one hand, while the other swiftly clutched his pocket tightly.

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