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A slum in southern Carnosia. The small town at the foot of the cliff was always foggy overhead.

Therefore, the shape of the village was not clearly visible from the top of the cliff.

At first glance, the scene when the fog had lifted looked like a group of abandoned houses.

So a rumor circulated among those who climbed the mountain. It was said that the place at the bottom of the cliff was the den of monsters.

It was said that those monsters drag people down from the cliff, making it impossible to leave their village forever.

"It's a den of demons, isn't it really funny? No one would have thought that a priest would be in a place like this."

The middle-aged man who had been reciting rumors grinned at the old man. An old man in shabby plain clothes, healing the wounds of the child in front of him, clicked his tongue.

"It's better that way. Because of those childish rumors, no bandits have ever invaded this town."

Contrary to the somewhat blunt voice, the hand that healed the child's injured ankle was very kind. White light from the old man's wrinkled fingertips covered her deeply scratched wounds and swollen ankles.

Watching her scars disappear in an instant, the child who had just been whining about her pain just wiped away her tears and gleamed in her eyes.

"Grandfather, are you a wizard?"

(*kids call old people grandpa or grandma without being related.)

When the child, who had completely stopped crying, asked a question with bright eyes, a young man standing by her side on behalf of the old man answered.

"No.This man is greater than a wizard."

"Wow... !"

As the child exclaimed, the old man who was staring at her, finally finished the treatment. Seeing her clean ankles without a trace of injuries, the child jumped in excitement.

"Thank you!"

After the child nodded and ran outside, the old man got up.

"I don't know if you're overdoing it."

As the old man straightened his back, the young man hurriedly brought water.

"How difficult is it to do something with the basics?"

The old man gulped and emptied his glass of water with a look of reassurance. The young man who took the empty glass from him responded.

"Well, you're old now."

The old man, Kalosa, was a priest over 300 years old. But his appearance only seemed to be an old man of about seventy.

It was several decades ago that Kalosa began staying in this village. It was a time when a plague began to circulate in the village.

Since it was such a poor slum, it had no support from the state, and as a result they never sent help.

Meanwhile, thanks to Kalosa, who appeared like a savior, the plague in the village disappeared within a month.

Since then, Kalosa has been a member of this village without any compensation.

"It's very foggy today. As if anything would happen."

The man who followed Kalosa out murmured. Fog, which was thicker than usual, covered the streets all over the place.

As Kalosa was walking down the street with his hand behind his back, he saw someone hurriedly running through the mist from afar.

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