Chapter 288 – The Apprentices

On the outskirts of Grey Mire Swamp, torrential rain battered the sparse, low shrubs. The relentless downpour made the already muddy Grey Mire Swamp even more slippery and filthy. The purplish-black humus soil was not only muddy but also sticky underfoot. In sparsely vegetated areas, black mud bubbles would emerge, releasing a foul odor upon bursting that was extremely unpleasant.

In such harsh conditions, a group of over three hundred people trudged laboriously through the mire, their heavy, exhausted breaths completely drowned out by the rain’s volume. Thus, the entire procession appeared eerily quiet, almost silent.

Among these three hundred, only the male leader wore a green robe, while all others were clad in coarse gray robes. Their boots were identical standardized leather ones, with only the garments beneath the gray robes varying in style. Wide-brimmed hoods concealed the pale, frozen faces of these gray-robed individuals, who were all remarkably young boys and girls.

Clearly, these struggling youths were a group of apprentices from the Thought of Truth.

The oldest among them was only around eighteen, while the youngest had just turned ten. Now, these half-grown children marched through the mud without a single complaint.

However, neither the gray robes nor the mud-stained leather boots could withstand the rain’s onslaught. All the children were thoroughly drenched. Loose robes clung to their bodies as the rain’s barrage seemed determined to force every drop into the crevices of their gray garments, pouring down incessantly.

Yet no one uttered a complaint, or rather… no one dared to utter a complaint!

In the middle of the procession, a girl with drenched ink-colored long hair gritted her teeth and struggled to pull her boot from the black mud. But the boot was clearly too large—instead of retrieving it, her small foot slipped out of the boot.

“Anya? Are you alright?A slightly shorter girl nearby noticed her friend’s awkward situation. She quickly halted, her voice trembling with concern as she inquired.

“It’s fine, Moli. Just lost my boot.”

The girl called Anya forced a stiff smile toward the one named Moli. Carefully balancing on one foot, she bent down to “pluck” her boot from the muddy water.

Her fair, jade-like foot trembled slightly in the rain. Anya, feeling somewhat embarrassed, hurriedly put the boot back on before turning to her friend.

“Moli, hurry and keep up. Otherwise, the mage will get angry again.”

Anya whispered the reminder to Moli, who had stopped to rest, then began struggling to extract her other foot from the sludge.

The oversized boots fit poorly and were filled with water. Now, Anya felt as if lead weights were tied to her feet—each lift required her entire strength.

“Enough, really. I don’t want to walk anymore. We’ve been marching for three days straight. I’m so tired. Let’s rest just a little… as long as we don’t fall behind…”Moli clearly lacked Anya’s resilience. She plopped down on the filthy ground, tears streaming down her pale face.

Yet the other apprentices around her expressionlessly stepped around the fallen Moli. No one even glanced at the weeping girl except for Anya.

Three days earlier, many of these apprentices had been like Moli—often collapsing in tears or complaints. After all, none had yet crossed the threshold into becoming professionals; they were still just ordinary children.

But after the leading mage who frequently laughed with morbid delight had brutally killed the five or six apprentices lagging at the rear, no one dared utter another complaint. Even the children clearly understood that the mage now holding their fate was a ruthless demon. Their best choice was to quicken their pace and avoid falling behind.

Anya, however, couldn’t ignore her friend’s breakdown. She knew Moli’s mental state was fragile. This journey had already lasted two weeks, with everyone marching relentlessly, interrupted only by brief rests and meager meals. Most importantly—no one knew when they would reach their destination.

In this grueling trek, children like Anya, who had grown up in poor families accustomed to hardship, fared slightly better. But those from wealthy or even noble households struggled to endure this endless “journey,” and many refused to go on.

The fate of those who gave up midway was always tragic… The mage leading them was clearly a deranged sadist. Anyone in the group who dared complain would be skinned alive by that perverted mage.

Anya didn’t want her friend to share that fate. Though Moli came from a merchant family, she had none of the spoiled habits of a rich miss and had always been warmhearted toward Anya. For both emotional and practical reasons, Anya had to help this little girl named Moli.

Struggling in waterlogged boots, Anya braved the heavy rain and half-dragged Moli to her feet. Gently, she offered half an apple to the girl and said earnestly:

“Hurry and get up! Don’t give up. Remember—we’re here to become professionals! Think of those powerful professionals. No one dares bully them because a single one can destroy a city. We came here to become strong like them!”

Anya’s tone was firm—both an encouragement for Moli and a reaffirmation of her own resolve.

But Moli didn’t take the apple. Staggering upright, she wiped rain and tears from her face with force.

“But… Anya, I don’t want to be a professional… I want to go home…”

At the word “home,” Moli seemed to grow even more heartbroken.Anya had no idea how to comfort her friend now. After all, she herself was merely a sixteen-year-old girl. Though she was willing to devote all her efforts to becoming a powerful mage, many in this apprentice cohort had been forced to leave their homes after their talents were detected. For these youths, what many would consider a dream opportunity—”becoming an apprentice”—was nothing but a hopeless calamity.

Unable to console Moli, Anya could only tighten her friend’s robe, trying her best to keep the bitter wind from seeping through the fabric.

Yet the heavy rain showed no signs of stopping, and the howling gusts mercilessly lashed rainwater against everyone’s faces.

Fortunately, just as the downpour intensified, a voice cutting through the curtain of rain brought renewed hope to the entire group—a brief command from the front of the procession, magically amplified to reach every ear.

Anya clearly remembered it was the voice of the leading mage.

“All apprentices, quickly fall in line! Prepare immediately for identity inspection. The Thought of Truth—we have arrived!”

(End of Chapter)