Some people remain forever youthful, forever teary-eyed, forever forgetful.
Every time they are deceived, they swear never to believe again, only to be fooled once more.
But Herbert is different; he has seen too many embellished lies.
With his conscience and passion depleted, he doesn't rush to conclusions.
Without knowing the full picture, he refrains from commenting.
"Slave merchants are attacking the Beastman Race camp,"
"Analyzing the strength, at the mid to low-end level, the strength gap between the two sides is not large. The Beastmen, relying on geographic and numerical advantages, have temporarily withstood the enemy's achievements."
"But at the high-level combat strength... The Legendary Level Shaman is severely injured, seemingly by that Fallen."
"Huh? Why does that silhouette look a bit familiar..."
While analyzing, Herbert's expression paused—he unexpectedly saw an acquaintance here.
"Hm!?"
