My Dad Is a Popular Villain in a Comic Book - Chapter 9

After staying in the hunting cabin for three days, Albin and Zeman waited for merchants coming from the town and left the border village by hitching a ride on their carts.

“You’re going to the Rose Kingdom? That’s at the southernmost tip of the continent.” The merchant sounded surprised when he heard their destination.

Zeman had previously drawn a rough map for Albin, so Albin now had a vague geographical concept in his mind. This different world continent had a unique terrain, shaped remarkably like a giant eagle with its wings spread in flight. Thorn City was located at the heart of the eagle, the border village was slightly northeast of the heart, while their destination, the Rose Kingdom, was at the very southernmost tip the tail feathers of the eagle. It was quite a distance.

Seated amidst the purchased crops, the merchant driving the cart shouted over his shoulder, “Although I can take you as far as the town, you won’t be able to find any merchant caravans heading south anytime soon.”

“Why is that?” Albin asked, confused.

“Here,” the merchant pointed at the ground, “it’s October. Our Lye-Grass Kingdom is about to hold its Carnival. It’s an annual, nation-wide celebration. Countless caravans are heading north to the capital to sell their goods during this time, so naturally, no one is heading south right now.”

“A Carnival?” Albin had never heard of this.

“Originally, it was a grand ritual for the God of Wine, Mann, before winter arrived. But our Lye-Grass Kingdom has many followers of the Wine God, and it has gradually become a major national holiday.” The merchant turned his head and saw the curious glint in the young child’s eyes. “Will there be delicious food?”

He laughed. “Of course! The Carnival lasts for four days, featuring endless wine and food, masked balls, bonfires, bands, and float parades. The Wine God Temple will distribute wine, nobles will give alms, and merchants from all over the world will bring the best wines; people can revel all night long.”

Speaking of it, the merchant grew hungry himself. He picked up the wine pouch at his waist, took a big gulp, and let out a hiccup. Smelling the alcohol, Albin said seriously, “Uncle, don’t drink and drive. Drinking and driving don’t mix; reckless driving will only bring tears to your loved ones.”

Seeing the child wearing such a stern face while saying this, the merchant couldn’t help but chuckle. “This is just water to us water purified by the God of Wine.” He shook the pouch. “The water sources outside have been contaminated by demonic creatures, which makes us sick. Only water purified by the gods is safe, just like how followers of the Sun God like to drink boiled water.”

Albin recalled adults telling him in his previous life that drinking raw water would make one sick and that it should be boiled or purified. So, it was the same here.

“But you’re not wrong there was indeed a guy who got dead drunk last time and fell into a ditch.” The merchant put away the pouch and complimented Zeman, “Your son is a good kid.”

Albin tilted his head, proudly accepting the praise.

“Since you’re already here and not in a rush, why not stay and experience our Carnival?” the merchant suggested.

Zeman observed Albin’s interested expression and nodded. “That sounds good. After the Carnival, we can leave with the merchant caravans heading south.”

Albin let out a joyful cheer. Since they were going to attend the Carnival, they had to travel further north. The weather was already growing colder, and the further north they went, the colder it became. After circling around a mountain, the wind blowing toward them felt significantly chilly.

Having left the fireplace of the hunting cabin, the clothes Albin bought from the villagers seemed a bit thin. The wind kept blowing into his cuffs and collar, and he sneezed several times while sitting in the open cart. Zeman wrapped him in his cloak and planned to buy him warmer clothes as soon as they reached the town.

“Father will be cold too, if you do that,” Albin said. He still insisted Zeman wear the cloak, while he crawled into the cloak like a little kangaroo, sitting in his father’s arms and peeking out. He didn’t waste the time on the road; he continued practicing mana discharge.

Watching the twinkling starlight in his hands, Zeman asked, “What magic did Edward teach you?”

“Uncle Edward taught me an emergency summoning spell. He said it’s a gift from the God of Love to a child like me, allowing me to use the mana in my body to protect myself in times of danger.” Given the nature of the magic in the Temple of Love, many couldn’t use magic easily unless they found what they loved, so a backup plan was necessary. Zeman nodded, satisfied.

Albin grumbled, “Uncle Edward also introduced two magic systems to me, ‘Love Magic’ and ‘Godly Magic,’ but I can’t learn either of them right now.” It was so frustrating! It was like being thirsty with a glass of apple juice and a glass of orange juice in front of you, but being unable to afford either.

“Don’t worry, and don’t care about which system it is. Just stabilize your foundation,” Zeman’s calm voice settled Albin’s emotions. He looked up, listening to his father.

“Whether you are praying to the gods or stimulating your inner potential, the essence of magic remains the control of elements in nature control over the earth, fire, wind, water, lightning, light, and darkness.” Zeman spoke matter-of-factly, as if everything was already within his grasp. If performing magic required praying to the Sun God, he would never be able to slay the gods. His magic no longer required the assistance of any person or god.

“In addition to determining the nature of the magic, the strength of your affinity with the elements determines what kind of magic you can use, while the amount of mana determines how much magic you can release.”

Albin understood. In game terms: Affinity = Skill Points, Mana = MP (Magic Points).

“What about incantations?”

Zeman’s gaze deepened. “In ‘Godly Magic,’ those are shortcuts paying mana to request the gods to cast magic, rather than casting magic relying on yourself.”

Albin thought about it and suddenly realized. I get it. The gods are like platform merchants. When you want to buy something, you go directly to the platform, so it’s more convenient than buying it yourself. That was indeed convenient, and the learning curve was fast, but the problem was he couldn’t use that right now. He would have to rely on himself and practice from the basics.

“Then I’ll rely on myself. How do I improve my affinity and mana?”

Zeman lowered his eyes to look at the child in his arms; this child truly possessed extraordinary comprehension. “Familiarize yourself with what you want to control, repeatedly release mana until you are exhausted, and try to control a tiny element, for example, a single drop of water.”

Oh, so I can’t start with something big. This was just grinding for proficiency! Albin excitedly began to practice, feeling like he was playing a game. Zeman closed his eyes to rest, also practicing the control of the magic energy within his body.

Before long, Albin’s cheer rang out in his ears. “Father!”

He opened his eyes and saw Albin eagerly spreading his palm to show him, chirping, “Is this right?”

Zeman looked closely; that little water droplet was playing hopscotch under the control of Albin’s mana. He was astonished and couldn’t help but glance at the sun; apparently, not much time had passed since he closed his eyes. Can an average person learn to control water elements this quickly? Most priests relied on the power of the gods from beginning to end and might never attempt to actively manipulate elemental power until their death. This was absolutely not something one could do just by thinking about it.

This child is even more of a genius than I imagined. He might be targeted by the gods in the future… Recalling something, Zeman’s eyes turned cold and sharp unconsciously.

“Father?” Albin blinked, his voice slightly dissatisfied, as if he were acting like a spoiled child. His beautiful red eyes were full of “praise me, quick.”

Zeman bumped into those bright eyes, and that coldness, which he didn’t have time to restrain, felt like it had fallen into a cup of hot tea and was slowly dissolving. “Well done.” He stiffly covered Albin’s hair with his hand, the soft white hair slipping through his fingers.

A faint response came from his lips: “Good.”

“Then I’ll continue practicing!” Albin enthusiastically dove back into his research.

Zeman watched Albin rapidly leveling up his skills and also subtly strengthened his control over his magic energy. I can’t lose to my son, after all.

Half a day later, the merchant brought them to a nearby small town. This town, also close to the border, wasn’t prosperous, but it had many types of shops. As the sun was setting, Zeman found a merchant who was taking goods to the capital for the Carnival. After agreeing to leave together tomorrow, he took Albin to the market to buy clothes.

Just as they reached a clothing stall, Albin heard cursing behind him.

“Get away, you stinking thing!”

He turned to look for the source and saw a burly man at the entrance of a tavern kicking a pitch-black figure on the ground, swearing. The burly man kicked him several times, knocked him over, spat at him, and walked away.

The figure turned a deaf ear to it. He wolfed down the slops that had been splashed in the corner, unrecognizable as food. His hands and feet were covered in filth, wearing a rag stained with sewage as clothes, his hair and beard thick and dense, stuck with jet-black grime, making it impossible to see his face.

That’s actually a human!

Seeing Albin craning his neck, particularly concerned, the clothing stall owner said, “That’s a vagrant from who-knows-where. He’s deaf, blind, and mute, grabbing slops to eat like a wild dog every day.”

The stall owner next door, having finished closing his stall, came over to join the fun and said, “I heard he came a while ago. At that time, he was wearing quite nice clothes, dressed in gold and silver, but within two days of arriving, he was stripped clean. It’s been so long, and no one has come looking for him. He doesn’t look like a big shot; maybe it was all stolen.”

Albin stared fixedly at the person who had blended into the messy scene, his chest suddenly feeling heavy. He had never seen such a thing before. Is the dirty stuff on the ground really edible? How could someone fall to the point of eating like that? Can they not afford food? Although there was no technology here, this was a world with magic. Magic could make flowers grow in the fields; why couldn’t it make wheat grow so everyone could eat their fill? Why was there still someone who had to eat such things?

What does it feel like to be deaf, blind, and mute? Can’t see or hear can he feel the rejection of others? Suddenly hit by the impact, he seemed unable to comprehend the scene and froze completely. He gripped Zeman’s clothing tightly, looking up dejectedly, his red eyes misty and his voice trembling slightly: “Father, I don’t want new clothes. I want to help him.”

The clothing stall owner said, “It’s useless. He won’t live much longer anyway. He won’t make it through this winter.”

Albin’s face crumpled. “But he wants to live.” The vagrant might not know that his death was near, but he was still wrapped in filthy rags, still crawling to lick slops wasn’t that for the sake of surviving? Albin felt a strong desire for survival from the vagrant. He wanted to help someone who wanted to live.

Zeman didn’t refuse him but lowered his head to ask: “How do you want to help him?”

Albin began to think hard. Help him find a job? But a deaf, blind, and mute person couldn’t seem to work normally.

“Can I take him with us to the Rose Kingdom?” Albin asked.

“And then?” Zeman pressed.

Albin froze. Oh right, I don’t even know what will happen to myself in three months. Buy him clothes? What if they get stolen again? Albin racked his brains. He was very weak himself right now and didn’t seem to be able to provide any help. Thinking of his previous life, he asked, “Are there any organizations that can take him in?”

“Yes,” Zeman replied. “The Temple of Love usually takes them in and helps them. We can send him to the Temple of Love in a nearby city; it’s on our way to the capital.” Although the Lye-Grass Kingdom was the center of the Wine God’s faith, in mythology, the Wine God Mann was once the lover of the Love God Luv, so the Temple of Love had several temples established here and wasn’t excluded.

Albin’s expression immediately relaxed, and he became happy. “Great, let’s do that!” The Love God and everyone in the Temple of Love are truly good people! Thank you, Love God!

“I want to tell him this good news! It would be great if he is willing to come with us.” He excitedly planned, “I also want to help him take a bath. I can share half of my dinner with him.”

“Why share half?” Zeman was surprised. He had more than enough money to cover the food and lodging for another person.

Albin said matter-of-factly, “Because I am the one who proposed helping him, so I have to take responsibility. Father being willing to help me plan is already great; he has no obligation to help him, and I cannot push the action onto Father.” I have to do my own things myself; this is my decision. I cannot hide away and pull others into it, making others spend money and put in effort.

Albin hugged Zeman’s waist, his eyes filled with gratitude. “If I hadn’t met Father, I might have become like that.” He hadn’t thought at all about what would happen if he were all alone, but thinking about it now, he knew nothing about this era and would inevitably end up on the streets. At that time, he, who wanted to live, would be no different from that deaf, blind, and mute vagrant.

“It is truly great that I met Father!” He beamed with a satisfied smile. My father is truly a kind and good person!!

Scarlet eyes watched his smile, and indescribable feelings gradually fermented in his heart, as if he were being poured into some kind of soft emotion.

Albin let go, intending to run over and tell the vagrant the good news while he hadn’t left yet. He took two steps, suddenly remembered something, and came back with his head drooping.

“Father… I don’t know how to write…” To communicate with a vagrant who was deaf, blind, and mute, he wittily thought he could write on the other’s palm, but only after walking two steps did he remember that although he could speak the language here, he was completely illiterate and couldn’t write. Damn it, my compulsory education has been wiped clean!

In the pitch-black field of vision, the surroundings were extremely quiet, as if he were in a deep, bottomless, pitch-dark cave. He could feel the air currents passing by his side, but he didn’t know what it was. Was it a human, a beast, or a speeding carriage? He could only search for the faint smell of food amidst the stench, touching the slippery tiles with his fingers to search for food that might be edible. Was it kitchen slops or a mouse that died in the corner?

As long as he could survive, it didn’t matter what it was. He could feel the beating from humans; there were people kicking and punching him day and night. He didn’t know the reason for it at all—perhaps they were looking for gold and silver hidden on him? In any case, he could imagine how humans mocked him, mocking him for having less dignity than a dog.

Humans… damn humans! Damn gods! Damn curse! His heart was filled with monstrous hatred at every moment. When I recover my strength, recover my status…

His nose suddenly smelled the scent of food nearby. He lunged to grab it. He felt warm food and was suddenly stunned. Sniffing, there was a long-lost wheat aroma. This was a baked pancake. He didn’t have time to think about why the pancake was on the ground and quickly stuffed it into his mouth, swallowing it quickly even if it choked him.

Something gently touched the back of his hand. He smelled the wheat aroma again—the exact same aroma, but fainter. He became vigilant. A trap? Yes, it must be a trap! Without money, how could humans harbor good intentions.

He was ready to resist at any time. Although his body was skinny and had no strength, he still had the ability to flee. A small, delicate hand cradled his hand. A child?

The child intermittently and very clumsily wrote something on his palm. What could a child possibly want to say to him? He felt it carefully.

The child wrote—

Can we help you?