Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

In the wild, there are no borders. No signposts. Standing upon that land where nature grows rampant, one begins to grasp how different a territory is from a domain.

As you walk, the scent in the air changes. To the eye, it all looks the same, but you begin to feel it—this place isn't quite what you knew. The sense of unease creeps in like a drizzle, soaking you gradually. And by the time that tension has reached your nose, you’re already inside a different domain.

A domain isn’t defined by land—it’s defined by power. By the time we noticed it, we were already within the domain of the Undying.

Here and there, we began to see totems carved from raw wood. They bore the exaggerated face of an old man, with protruding eyes and lips, shaped into threatening expressions meant to ward off intruders. Great trees were adorned with ornaments made from animal bones.

Clear signs of a claimed territory. Rash took one look and nodded deeply.

“Mmh! There are the totems—we’ve arrived! Follow me!”

With confident familiarity, Rash began to lead the way forward.

Normally, the outskirts of a territory are lined with sentries, watchtowers, and traps—defensive measures to repel outsiders. But the domain of the Undying held none of that. Instead of hiding their presence, they seemed to flaunt it.

Not long after, we saw the village. Its architecture was... memorable, to say the least. The houses looked awkwardly built, spread out with rough spacing and loose planning. Dark-skinned humans lounged beneath shades woven from leaves, passing the time without urgency.

A roof, walls, pillars—those are components of a house, yes. But merely having them doesn’t make it a home. The Undying’s houses felt like an example of how a structure can contain all the right parts and still not feel complete.

They had roofs. They had walls. They had pillars. And yet, their homes weren’t homes.

Ah—of course.

They had no intent to make a house. It was like watching players in a team sport all doing their own thing without a care for the whole.

“Right Arm. You’ve returned.”

A brawny man approached Rash with ease. His bronze skin, hardened from the sun, and his muscular frame spoke of the unforgiving wilderness. With short facial hair and a bright expression, he strode up to Rash with familiarity.

Then, without a word, he kicked Rash square in the shin.

Crunch. Rash’s shin twisted with an audible crack.

Even with a tough body trained in martial arts, Rash was helpless before the surprise blow. He tumbled twice and slammed into the dirt.

“Woof?!”

“What was that? An attack?”

Azzy barked in alarm, and the regressor furrowed her brow. But Rash, already raising a hand, spoke first.

“Ah, no need to be startled. This is how our tribe greets each other.”

Though he’d just been kicked out of nowhere, Rash calmly got up as if he’d expected it. What had seemed like a broken shin had already healed.

“Left Leg. Nothing happened while I was gone, I hope?”

“If you mean something did, then yes. If not, then no. Rain fell and soaked the ground—that’s just life, but isn’t it a blessing too?”

“So, no special incidents. That’s good.”

Rash brushed the dirt off as ‘Left Leg’ looked at him with a skeptical expression.

“More importantly... you—”

“Oh, my bad.”

Before he could finish, Rash punched him with a mighty swing.

Wham! Left Leg’s ribs caved in under the impact. The sound rang out like an explosion, and he was sent flying backward, carving a trench in the ground.

Raw, unfiltered violence. Yet Left Leg, groaning from the impact, merely sounded disappointed.

“You’ve weakened, Right Arm.”

The Undying don’t die. As long as they remain in contact with the earth, their bodies regenerate quickly. Even while his own ribs healed, Left Leg worried more about Rash’s fist than his own injuries.

“Your last strike lacked force. Has that witch been draining your blood?”

“No, the blood fiend doesn’t crave ours. I’ve just spent a lot of time with the Fiou lately. Gotten too used to holding back.”

“Ahh, the Fiou.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Left Leg glanced at the regressor and me. Compared to their hulking, muscular frames, we looked scrawny and fragile.

With a face full of gentle sympathy, Left Leg looked at us and spoke kindly.

“You’ve suffered much, haven’t you? Though, I suppose it’s worse for the Fiou, always fearing death.”

“Fiou? Fear of death?”

The regressor bristled, taking his words as a slight. But Rash, who had come to understand her temperament during our time in the abyss, waved a hand quickly to calm her.

“Ah, Fiou refers to those who are not of the Undying kind. It means companions we must protect—those who still die. Outsiders call us savages, but that’s only because we don’t die. To the Fiou, we are kind.”

“He’s right. Fiou. Don’t worry—we’re not so reckless as to hurt a Fiou...”

Before he could finish, the regressor silently clenched her fist and unleashed a flurry of strikes. In a single breath, she landed dozens of precise hits on Left Leg’s torso. He was sent flying far beyond where he’d landed before.

“Don’t underestimate me. From your perspective, I am an Undying. With your level of strength, you couldn’t even scratch me.”

To throw punches just because she felt disrespected... Anyone from a civilized land would’ve been appalled. But this was a savage land. And here, savagery was virtue.

Left Leg, lying where he’d landed, let out a wide grin and shouted,

“Hahaha! You’re a warrior!”

Boom. With a thundering sound, Left Leg charged and swung his tree-trunk-like leg toward the regressor. It came down on her like a massive beam, easily twice as thick as any ordinary man's limb.

In that instant, the regressor focused her qi and slammed her fist into his shin. Her fist looked pitifully small and fragile compared to that log of a leg.

But her punch, wrapped in spiraling currents of compressed qi, held power far beyond its appearance.

Heaven’s Circle °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° – Qi Strike Fist.

A distinct fist-shaped mark appeared on Left Leg’s body. The swirling winds, sharp as drills, pierced and shredded his flesh. It was a clash of strength against strength—and the fist won, overwhelmingly. Left Leg was sent flying once more.

“You shattered my offering leg...!”

She’d attacked him unprovoked and even damaged his body. But this was the domain of the Undying. No matter the wound, the Undying feared no injury. Pain didn’t matter. They regenerated. So getting hurt? It wasn’t a concern.

In fact, they welcomed it.

“Amazing! It’s been so long since a warrior like you came through!”

Grabbing his crushed leg, Left Leg squeezed it like a tube. The leg, warped by the Qi Strike, inflated back into its original form like a balloon. Unbothered and grotesquely calm, he fixed his body and spread his arms wide.

“Welcome! We’ll treat you not as a Fiou, but as a true warrior!”

“Do what you want. I don’t care.”

Barbaric types like these don’t listen to words—they understand strength. This is better.

Was it her intellect, or just sharp instincts? Either way, the regressor’s judgment was surprisingly on point. Despite having caused a scene the moment we arrived, the way the villagers looked at her had changed.

Before, the Undying had glanced at us with indifference, or pity. Now... there was something else. A glimmer of admiration. Even envy.

Having acknowledged the regressor, Left Leg turned to me expectantly.

“Well? And you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just stay a Fiou.”

Yeah, no. I’m sticking to being the weak one. I plan to live a pampered life.

After we finished the 'greetings,' Rash began leading us again.

“Well, that’s the gist of it. They might look a bit crude to folks from the Military State, but I wouldn’t call them savages.”

“Yeah, I can see that. They call us Fiou, but they don’t exactly look down on us. And they don’t just start throwing punches at random people.”

“Long ago, we really were no better than beasts—violent and wild. But becoming part of the World Union taught us to live together. We learned how painful and terrifying life is for those who die easily. That’s how our tradition of protecting the Fiou began.”

It wasn’t only the Undying who lived in this village. Scattered throughout were people who clearly weren’t one of them. Every single one of them wore a large red armband.

Fiou.

I was no exception. Wearing a red armband myself, I could feel the Undying watching me carefully—like I was a fragile toy that might break if they breathed too hard.

“If you get recognized as a warrior, things like what just happened will become normal. We don’t shy away from tests of strength. It probably wouldn’t be a problem for the boy, but still—stay alert. You might catch a fist if you’re careless.”

The regressor, unarmbanded, scoffed.

“Don’t worry. I can react even in my sleep...”

...Then why didn’t you notice yourself slipping and falling asleep with me, huh?!

The regressor smacked both her cheeks hard. Rash looked over, puzzled by her sudden self-flagellation.

“Do Fiou fix their bodies by hitting themselves? Hmm... well, anyway. Since you’re a Fiou, Teacher, you’ll be staying in the Fiou village. It’s the only inn we’ve got for outsiders.”

Fiou village. That name doesn’t beat around the bush. Makes sense, though. The native Undying all have homes of their own...

Ah, right. And speaking of natives—wasn’t Rash trying to marry Callis? We haven’t even seen her yet.

“What about Miss Callis?”

At my question, Rash’s expression dimmed slightly.

“She’s the same. Since she’s a Fiou, she’s in the Fiou village as well.”