"How are we going to approach this Actual?" Ward asked as he looked at the village.
"Same thing we always do, in the main entrance," Albert replied as he began walking towards it.
Seeing that their commander was heading towards it, the soldiers and the marines followed suit. They walked along the dirt tracks headed to the main gate of the village. And it didn't take long for the villagers inside to spot them.
Immediately after, Albert saw villagers squirting out with spears and swords, brandishing it towards there.
"Who goes there?!" said one of the villagers.
"Oh look, they speak English," Albert said, looking at Ward who had previously asked if they couldn't speak English.
"They do, but they have weapons on them."
"All units don't raise your guns. We don't want to look hostile here," Albert reminded his men and the marines through the radio.
"Don't come any closer!" said the villager who had asked them about their identity.
As they got closer and closer, Albert raised a hand. "We are not here to harm you, we are travelers from faraway places."
As they got closer and closer, Albert raised a hand. "We are not here to harm you, we are travelers from faraway places."
The line of villagers at the gate stiffened. Their eyes darted between one another, confusion mixing with suspicion. A few of them exchanged hurried words under their breath, voices trembling. Their hands tightened on their spears, but they didn't advance.
Albert stopped roughly twenty meters from the entrance, planting his boots firmly in the dirt road. Behind him, the Atlas operators fanned out in a cautious semicircle, maintaining distance but ensuring clear lines of sight. The Marines under Major Claes formed the rear security, their rifles still slung but ready at a moment's notice.
"We come in peace," Albert continued, tone steady and deliberate. "We're looking for information, nothing more."
For a moment, there was silence except for the creak of wood and the distant caw of crows circling overhead. Then, one of the villagers—a younger man with messy blond hair and a leather vest—shouted back.
"What do you mean, travelers? You mean adventurers? Are you the one from the capital that took the subjugation quest for goblin hordes?"
Hearing that, Albert tilted his head to the side. Adventurers? Goblin hordes? What the heck does that mean? But maybe travelers and adventurers have the same meaning. He wasn't sure about the goblin hordes.
"Yes, we are adventurers from faraway places. We simply want information and once we do, we will leave you in peace," Albert replied.
The young man, clearly unconvinced, scowled. He tightened his grip on his spear and took a few cautious steps forward. His boots sank slightly into the dirt, his stance tense.
"That's what outsiders always say," he shouted back. "Then they start demanding food, coin, or worse—blood. You don't look like any adventurers I've seen. What kind of armor is that? And those weapons—what are they? Sorcerer tools?"
Behind him, murmurs spread through the line of villagers. Fear, curiosity, and disbelief blended together. Some of them shifted uneasily, while others raised their crude blades higher, as if expecting an attack at any moment.
Ward leaned slightly toward Albert and muttered quietly, "He's not buying it. Looks like we're one twitch away from a standoff."
"I know," Albert murmured back. "Just hold your ground."
The young man's eyes flicked between the strangers' dark uniforms and metallic gear, his suspicion growing. "You don't even have proper sigils or guild badges! Travelers, you say?"
The villagers murmured louder now, their nerves fraying. One older woman clutched her child close, whispering frantic prayers under her breath.
Albert exhaled slowly through his nose. "Listen, we're not your enemies. If we meant harm, this conversation wouldn't be happening. We just want to talk."
But the young man sneered, thrusting his spear toward the ground in defiance.
"Talk? You expect us to trust strangers walking up to our gate in the middle of nowhere, carrying—whatever those are?" He gestured toward the rifles slung across the Atlas soldiers' chests."
Then, before Albert could respond, a voice from behind the young man broke through the tension.
"Enough, Rowan."
All heads turned toward the sound. An old man stepped forward from the cluster of villagers near the gate, leaning slightly on a gnarled wooden staff. His gray hair was thin but neatly tied back, his posture slightly stooped yet dignified.
"Elder Harvin," the younger man, Rowan, said, lowering his head briefly. "You shouldn't be here. These people—"
"I said enough," the elder repeated, cutting him off gently but firmly. "You'll frighten the children."
Rowan clenched his jaw, but stepped aside, though his grip on the spear didn't loosen.
The old man walked a few steps closer to the gate, his eyes studying Albert and the others carefully.
He didn't look afraid, only curious.
"Strangers," he said, his tone softer, "you say you mean no harm?"
Albert nodded. "That's correct, sir. We're just trying to understand where we are. We won't stay long."
Harvin's gaze swept over them once more, taking in the sleek rifles, the strange uniforms, the disciplined formation. These weren't bandits or mercenaries. They didn't posture, didn't threaten. They looked like soldiers, but not any kind he'd ever seen.
Finally, he nodded slowly. "If they truly sought blood," the elder said, turning slightly toward Rowan and the gathered villagers, "they would've taken it already. Look at them, calm, disciplined. No bandit stands still when a wall of blades points their way. No murderer announces peace before drawing steel."
Rowan's brow furrowed, his voice low. "But Elder—what if it's a trick?"
"Then it will be a short-lived one," Harvin replied simply. "If they wished to harm us, we wouldn't even have the breath to argue."
The young man hesitated, clearly torn. The logic was sound, but his distrust ran deep. His eyes darted to Albert once more, then back to the elder.
"You really think it's safe?"
Harvin smiled faintly, though there was steel behind it. "No, lad. But I think it's worth the risk." He turned toward Albert again. "If you speak truth, stranger, then come forward. Slowly. Whatever weapons you have on you, please keep it lowered, and we will not raise ours."
Albert inclined his head respectfully. "Understood."
He motioned subtly to Ward, who relayed the order through hand signals. The Atlas and Marine teams relaxed their stance slightly, rifles hanging harmlessly against their chests, fingers far from the triggers.
As Albert took the first careful step forward, the villagers murmured nervously again. Rowan's spear wavered but did not rise.
When Albert came within ten meters of the gate, Harvin raised a hand. "That's close enough."
Albert stopped, standing tall but nonthreatening. "Thank you for hearing us out. My name is Albert Spencer. We are travelers from far away place. We want to ask…"
"Oh goddammit Albert," Major Claes stepped forward. His sudden approach made the villagers raise their weapons again, thinking he would do something.
"Old man, we were summoned in this world by a Goddess. We want to know the location of the demon race."
"Eh?"
All eyes turned on Claes.
"What the fuck…" Ward muttered.