The Witch's Convent

Chapter 22: South Harbor District and the Slums

To the east of the convent lies the only relatively tidy neighborhood in the entire South Harbor District. The buildings on both sides are mostly two or even three-story structures, typically with the ground floor serving as small shops and the upper floors as residences. While they may not be very wealthy, they are citizens with some assets.

The wide central road is paved with bluestone bricks, which are somewhat old and damaged in places but at least not muddy, allowing various vehicles to pass smoothly.

On either side of the road are drainage openings for sewers—not advanced, but they help keep the streets basically clean.

From a distance, at each intersection of this street, a city guard dressed in chainmail, equipped with a shield and short spear, stands on duty.

Although they are just slightly stronger and have received some basic training—unlike Occupational Warriors—and it's hard to say how effective they would be in a genuine crisis, they can maintain security on these streets.

These are the two best streets in the South Harbor District, mainly because the district's administrative hall is located further along this street. If one assumes from this that the South Harbor District is well-developed, they would be gravely mistaken.

To the west of the convent lies the reality for most of the South Harbor District: a dilapidated, filthy slum exuding a stench of decay.

Constructed from low-quality wood sourced locally, the slum is made up of crude shanties of varying heights, with noticeable rotting at many connection points.

By any era's standards, these are absolute danger zones. Perhaps with the next typhoon or heavy rain, these houses will collapse en masse, crushing countless unfortunate residents.

The roads are rotten and muddy, mingled with countless fragments of vomit, excrement, and other filth. The corners are filled with garbage, where a mangy, emaciated stray dog rummages for its breakfast.

The clean core area and the chaotic slum sit tightly alongside each other on the east and west sides of the convent. Hawthorne's territory serves as a division line, splitting the rich from the poor, the advanced from the backward, the clean from the dirty, dividing the South Harbor District into two different worlds.

But he knows this arrangement is not the convent's doing. It merely happens—due to the witches' ulterior motives—to sit along this dividing line. The true division of the city is caused by Liberl Port's unjust system and the omnipresent comprador state of affairs.

However, these are not matters he can change now. Despite the slums being dirty and chaotic, he needs to go in for the sake of his own life.

He gently moved his arm, releasing Heidi's hold on him, and said softly, "Outside, don't let people see."

Heidi realized the impropriety of these actions and thought for a moment before saying, "I'll see if I can arrange a priest's identity for you after this Witch's Night."

Hawthorne smiled, nodding: "Thank you."

After a brief pause, he continued, "Alright, you go about your business; I'll scout the slums myself."

At this, Heidi's expression changed: "How can that be? Master, the slums are dangerous, full of gangsters, stray dogs, and even cultists. It's very risky for ordinary people..."

Hawthorne maintained his warm smile: "Don't worry. I'm a Spellcaster now. At the very least, I can definitely protect myself."

He was confident, not only in his ability to protect himself with spells but also in his knowledge of the "South Harbor District Slums" map.

This area was right next to the convent, marking it as the starting area for beginners. The enemies within—whether gang members, stray dogs, or cultists—were essentially easy low-level mobs.

In the game, new players with no skill could easily clear it with a level 1 starting character, as long as they didn't provoke the gang leaders' hideouts.

Now, although Hawthorne's total attributes were a bit low, his primary attribute, Charisma, was off the charts, and he had double the Warlock Mana to expend.

Additionally, he possessed five Grimoires that allowed a free casting of one Spell each. As long as he became proficient in swapping books, he could cast five additional first-level Spells in a battle!

With this combat capability, unless he was extremely unlucky and ran into those bosses taking a stroll, he would be in no danger.

Thus, he resolutely pushed Heidi away, assuring her: "While I may not be as strong as you, there's no problem with self-defense in this slum."

"I don't want to hold you back. So, Heidi, go and gather what you need for Witch's Night. Um..."

He thought for a moment before adding, "Once you're ready, come find me at the 'Foggy Fisherman' tavern, and I'll be waiting for you there."

The previous encounter with Yuta almost left a psychological shadow, so now he absolutely dared not move around the convent alone.

Thus, he had to wait for Heidi to return and only dared to go back with her by his side.

Hearing this, Heidi smiled gently and nodded: "Mm!"

With that, she glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then gave him a light kiss on the lips as a farewell before turning to prepare what she needed.

Hawthorne then turned and stepped into the slums.

Even though the wind had diluted it, a faint sour smell wafted over, seeping into his nostrils, making him want to vomit, yet bringing a familiar, even nostalgic, feeling to the surface.

Ah, is this the residual memory of his predecessor at work?

It's like how his body couldn't stop feeling fear upon seeing Heidi for the first time; now, returning to this filthy slum felt as familiar as coming home?

Heh, what a strange and definitely unwanted experience.

Shaking his head, he continued walking forward. After a few steps, he heard a drunken, chaotic shouting from the alley beside him: "It's meaningless, everything is meaningless..."

"We are all just little cards on the table, and our fate is decided by a mere dice..."

Hawthorne turned his head and saw a few young men, draped in dirty gray tank tops, exposing their sickly pale skin, emaciated to the bone with ribs clearly visible, leaning against the wall—smoking leaves and shouting these incomprehensible things.