Realizing this Lord had zero respect for Casters, and wanting to avoid a few more lashes, Sam honestly began spilling the beans.
"Lord, I know the Healing Technique and the Stone Skin Technique."
"That weak?"
The Lord was a bit incredulous. ’Where was the Hundred Miles Ice Seal Technique, the Fla Burst? He didn’t have a single one.’
"Lord, the fact that I’ve mastered two spells already makes exceptionally talented. Besides, the Stone Skin Technique can make a person’s skin as hard as stone. It’s an absolutely useful spell on the battlefield."
Seeing Levi question his professional expertise, Sam felt a bit indignant.
"Can it block my spear?" Levi said with disdain.
"Yeah, exactly. This guy’s got a high opinion of himself," Zat muttered from the side.
Sam fell silent. Shamans weren’t squishy Casters like humans; their physical toughness was nearly as formidable as their Magic.
If not for that and the Treatnt he’d applied to himself, he’d be visiting his long-dead ancestors by now.
’And to think, that terrifying strike was from a spear thrown by the man in front of him, not so Bed Crossbow...’
’Forget the Stone Skin Technique, even the Iron Skin Technique would have been useless against that spear...’
But Sam only dared to think these slanderous thoughts.
SLAM!
"Confess. You were the ones who attacked the Dala Tribe last night, weren’t you?"
Levi slamd a makeshift gavel on the wooden table before him, exuding the air of an ancient magistrate presiding over a courtroom interrogation.
"We’ve fought them before. Last night was too good an opportunity to pass up."
"However, their Chieftain escaped with several dozen Warriors in the chaos. We couldn’t finish them all off."
"You’re very honest. This is a good start, a fine way for us to begin building trust."
SWISH!
A silvery flash streaked through the air.
Levi walked up to Sam, drew his Longsword, and with a flick of the Holy Sword, severed the ropes binding the Shaman’s hands and feet before he could even react. He finished with a little flourish before returning the blade to its Sword Scabbard.
The blade grazed Sam’s skin, making his hair stand on end and his face turn deathly pale. He was about to let fly a stream of curses, but in the instant before the words left his mouth, he rembered his predicant and swallowed them back down.
’If this is how trust is built, then I’d rather do without!’
"How many Warriors does your Tribe have left on guard? What’s their strength?"
"There are none."
"Hey, still not being honest?! You think Master Zat’s whip has lost its bite, is that it?"
CRACK!
Zat yanked the Cowhide Whip from his belt and lashed out, the whip cracking against Sam’s back. Sam scread in pain, his face contorted as he cried out:
"Lord, it’s True! There are none left! You defeated our most valiant Warriors! The Evil Fang Tribe has no leader to rally them now; we can’t organize our Warriors to fight anymore!"
"Be more specific! Total population, location, able-bodied n..."
Levi held a wooden board and a piece of charcoal.
Common sense suggested the garrison left behind would be far weaker than the main force, but history had taught Levi an important lesson: caution is a virtue.
Unlike the crippled Dala Tribe, the Evil Fang Tribe hadn’t even lost a hundred Warriors in total. Levi had to be wary of a potential counterattack.
Now that they lacked a leader, Levi would assess the situation and decide whether to press his advantage, crushing any possibility of their return.
He took notes as Sam spoke.
Still, this was just for reference. He still needed to send out scouts. In war, a mont of carelessness can lead to disaster, and once disaster strikes, there’s no coming back.
"Over a thousand people in total. The able-bodied n who can wield a blade, including those who escaped, should number around three hundred..."
Looking at the numbers Sam provided, Levi nodded. It was close to his own estimations.
As he put away the board and prepared to leave, Levi suddenly rembered sothing.
"Right, are there many Shamans in the Wilderness who know Witchcraft?"
"Not many. As far as I know, among the tribes of the Kas Mountain Range, I am the only true Shaman. Among the Alien Races of the Wilderness, only Kobolds, Minotaurs, Giants, and Beastn are known for producing Shamans."
Sam said with a hint of pride.
After all, among the many human Tribes in the Kas Mountain Range, he was the only one who knew Magic—and two spells, at that.
At the sa ti, he felt a surge of frustration. ’Such a rare Shaman, captured by so idiot who knows nothing about Magic, and he doesn’t even appreciate it.’
His pride as a Caster was stirring, but reality forced him to submit.
"Oh? And how did you learn those two Witchcraft techniques?"
Levi was genuinely surprised that Beastn and Kobolds could beco Shamans. He had spent most of his ti in the south, where the local Alien Races were mostly Lizardn and Fishn.
"Well..."
Sam hesitated. This was his secret. But when he saw the Beastman Barbarian’s hand eagerly moving toward the Cowhide Whip at his hip, he suddenly decided the secret wasn’t all that important.
"Lord, I have a Magic Scroll."
"A Magic Scroll?"
"Er, well... it’s actually a Stone Slab with a few types of Magic recorded on it..."
Sam eyed the Beastman Barbarian, who was now nonchalantly tossing the Cowhide Whip up and down in his hand.
’As a Shaman, his physique was nearly as good as a young man’s, but even a thick-skinned wild boar couldn’t withstand more than a few lashes from this muscle-bound oaf.’
"And the Stone Slab?"
"I hid it within the Tribe’s territory. The location is a secret; no one can find it but !"
"If you want it, Lord, I can take you to it."
Sam straightened his body, his expression utterly serious.
"You’d better be telling the truth." Levi gave the little old man a long, hard look.
An idea was gradually forming in his mind, but it all hinged on the old man telling the truth.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He thought he was finally about to be treated with the importance he deserved. After all, he had offered up his most precious possession. He was a Shaman who knew Magic; he shouldn’t be so disdained.
In the next second, however, Levi personally bound him up again, tying the knots good and tight.
’Wait, where in the world did he learn to tie knots like this?’
Sam was dumbfounded. Getting tied up was one thing, but why was this particular thod so humiliating? He could only wriggle on the ground like a caterpillar.
The Lord was a complete novice regarding Witchcraft—curious, yet cautious. He worried the old Shaman might try to place a Curse on him in the middle of the night. To prevent any mishaps, he simply decided to bind his hands and feet.
Rembering that Magic often requires incantations, he had Zat stuff one of his own stinky socks into the Shaman’s mouth. Only then did he nod in satisfaction.
The reason for all this was simple: from start to finish, he had never received a "join party" notification from this old bastard.
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