South of Froststone City lies a secluded village nestled at the foot of a cliff.

In the village, Carol sat on an earthen platform in the training ground, watching several orcs not far away, shirtless and doing physical exercises. His words carried a hint of disbelief: "I actually have my own kind..."

Aldenan, who was lying on the ground comfortably basking in the sun with a bone in his mouth as a toothpick, said lazily, "Unlike us, they not only have no resistance to becoming aliens, but they are even proud of it."

Carroll seemed to remember something and said, "They call themselves the Crusaders, warriors under the command of the Sons of Gods."

Aldenan stretched: "Never mind what they're called, when you see guys who look just like you wandering around, don't you feel a sense of security?"

Carol glanced at the werewolf and said instinctively, "Indeed, but this feeling is strange."

“It’s better to be weird than to be treated like a monster.” Aldenan opened his mouth wide and yawned like an old dog: “After dinner, if you’re free, would you like to come to my place?”

Carol glanced at the orcs, picked up his weapon, and began practicing combat. He casually asked, "Going to your place? What for?"

Aldenan slowly got up from the ground, shaking the dust off his back: "A few days ago, I found two people in my werewolf clan who know how to play cards. With you in the mix, we'll have a table tonight."

Carol did not answer Aldenan, but instead turned her head toward a dense forest in the distance of the village.

Aldenan followed his gaze and saw two elven women walking among the treetops and jumping into a wooden house built on a tree trunk.

"Still thinking about her?" The werewolf patted the orc on the shoulder. "Dude, I'm not trying to discourage you, but don't you think the barriers between races are already incredibly difficult to overcome?"

“Carol, think about it carefully. Those elf gentlemen and ladies not only have an astonishing obsession with cleanliness, but they also spend their days either discussing art or studying like crazy. They also hate anything made of metal, and most importantly, they despise meat!”

Aldenan scratched the back of his head, looking puzzled. "Did you hear that? You don't want to eat meat! Is there any food in the world more delicious than meat?"

Carol ignored Aldenan's complaints, her eyes dimming as she looked away.

Aldenan continued rambling on: "Except during training and prayer, those elves will deign to be with other races. Otherwise, they look at us like we're freaks."

Before they could finish speaking, a cry came from above their heads.

Following the sound, a humanoid creature with long limbs and bird wings flew down from the top of the hill.

Aldenan ducked into the shade of a tree and whispered to Carol, "Those harpies look at people like they're hunting prey. I heard they refused the food offered by the village and chose to hunt for themselves."

Waiting for the harpies to return to their lair, the two followed the village path toward the center of the village.

Along the way, orcs, werewolves, lizardmen, minotaurs, elves... all sorts of races gathered in this village, using the same language, yet each with their own different customs and ethnic groups.

Reaching the village square, Aldenan looked at the enormous black dragon statue standing in the center and murmured, "They say that's the true form of the Son of the Gods. But no matter how you look at it, it looks like a..."

“Dragons,” Carroll added softly, looking at the group of creatures of different races kneeling before the statue.

Aldnan tilted his head and lowered his voice: "When he brought us here, Randall said that His Majesty is the legendary son of the gods. In other words, His Majesty is that..."

Carol glanced at the creatures passing by, then put her arm around Aldnan's neck and said in a low voice, "I told you not to discuss this here."

Aldenan shrugged: "Whatever you say."

The two walked across the square and arrived at the entrance of the village temple.

A group of minotaurs, under the direction of a shaman apprentice, were unloading large quantities of supplies from a wagon.

Watching the villagers line up to receive the supplies and tools they needed from the shaman apprentices, Aldenan stroked his chin and clicked his tongue in amazement: "In this village inhabited by alien races, the temple is responsible for distributing supplies such as food, tools, and books. Each Crusader doesn't have to spend money or keep accounts; they just need to provide what they need."

“That’s exactly what I find strange.” Aldenan looked at the mountain of supplies being distributed little by little and said with a puzzled expression, “This doesn’t seem like a tribe, because the chief never pays his men; nor does it seem like a village, because no village chief would endlessly satisfy the villagers’ needs like this.”

Looking through the temple doors at the worshippers inside who were venerating the dragon statue, Carol said in a low voice, "To me, this place is perhaps more like a religious army. What the believers are asking for is not money, but spiritual rewards and recognition."

Following behind Carol, Aldnan entered the temple.

The walls inside the hall are covered with numerous murals, some depicting wars between gods, some telling the stories of the sons of gods, and others depicting the land of the dead.

Aldenan nudged Carol with his elbow, gesturing for him to look at the black dragon totem at the very top of the temple.

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