Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Hestas looked at Winters with a smile that was not quite a smile, yet said nothing.

In this world, there exist practitioners of the Divine Arts, and many within the Church are such practitioners. The Spellcasters of the Alliance do not acknowledge the existence of these gods, yet the effects of the Divine Arts are undeniably real, which leads to the inconsistency of the Alliance Spellcasters' atheistic theories.

In response to this, the Magic Combat Bureau circulated a hypothesis: that practitioners of the Divine Arts are also spellcasters, merely using a different system from that of the Alliance Spellcasters.

But this hypothesis remained just that, a hypothesis, as the Divine Arts were sacred secrets of the Church, beyond the reach of the Magic Combat Bureau; they could neither understand the system of the Divine Arts nor procure the bodies of priests for dissection.

However, Winters now discovered that outside of "civilization," the alien tribes also possessed a similar system of Divine Arts. People who prided themselves on civilization did not believe that the barbaric nomads could have practitioners of both the Divine Arts and magic, but the elder before him clearly also wielded abilities akin to the Divine Arts.

Perhaps this foreign Divine Arts could provide insights into the Church's system of Divine Arts, and at this thought, Winters was almost trembling with excitement.

But the lean, dark-skinned elder before him just smiled at Winters, remaining silent. Experience tales with empire

Seeing the elder's mocking smile and his amused eyes, Winters deflated. Since the Church was so protective of the secrets of the Divine Arts, so were the Herders' Shamans.

"You can't speak of it, right?" Winters sighed.

"I could tell you, but could you keep a secret for me?"

Suddenly energetic, Winters nodded eagerly, "Yes, of course I can."

"Hmm, so could I."

"Hey... do you find playing this game fun?" Winters, struck speechless, stood up, dusted off the soil and grass from his pants, and said irritably, "Go ahead then, I'm going back to sleep."

"Young man, why sleep long before death, when after death comes eternal sleep?" Hestas now looked very amused.

"Yeah, if you don't sleep well while alive, naturally you'll soon end up buried and sleeping in the ground forever." Winters immediately shot back. He then considered something further, asking the elder with a curious expression, "Say, you all ate the meat, drank the wine, danced the dance, in this atmosphere, is what comes next really...?"

He didn't specify what it was but made a few pumping motions with his right-hand middle finger into his half-closed left fist.

The normally restrained Winters would never have made such an obscene gesture, but he was not only mentally exhausted but in a very bad mood. His rational dam had burst, and he now just wanted to disgust the old bastard before him.

Hestas laughed briefly and replied calmly, "I suppose it might."

"Tomorrow we're facing down the Tanilians in a fight to the death, and your people won't rest well tonight? They're drinking, dancing, and fucking around – do you have the energy for battle tomorrow?" Winters grew angrier at the old man's attitude.

Unperturbed, the old Shaman replied openly, "The men are going into battle tomorrow; wouldn't it be unacceptable to deny them a final moment of warmth with the women? They might not return tomorrow, so naturally, they want to ensure their bloodlines continue. The same goes for you, if you die tomorrow, your lineage ends. Wouldn't you regret that? Hmm... If you want, I can help set you up. I think there are women who would appreciate your fine physique."

If it were the normally chaste young Winters, he would have blushed to the tips of his ears. But the sleep-deprived Winters, now possessed by an ill-tempered personality, spitefully retorted, "Do your Herders' Shamans also take on the role of pimps?"

"It's as normal for a woman to be attracted to a man as it is for a man to be attracted to a woman. If a girl is interested in you, it means you are attractive – that's a compliment to you," said the old Shaman Hestas with a natural demeanor.

Winters suddenly realized that either the old man's skin was incredibly thick, or his spiritual level was several levels above his own – whatever vicious words he said simply couldn't hurt him.

"You're tall and look strong, seemingly a Chosen One. Bringing the bloodline of a Chosen One into my tribe would be a great boon. Is it wrong to pass on a better lineage?" the old Shaman asked seriously, "When breeding horses, do you not pick the best stallions for the mares, or would you use a nag instead?"

The old man's righteous sounding nonsense and series of flatteries left the venomously tempered Winters speechless. Winters, with a flushed face, argued back, "Humans are people! Not animals!"

"Humans and animals are not so different," Hestas said with a light smile. "Good people are the best animals, and bad people are the worst. Stallions in the herd are constantly fighting for the right to mate, and men in the tribe also want to pass on their bloodlines. Humans are animals, not much different."

"Humans are different from animals." Winters wanted to argue further but suddenly felt that this statement wasn't strong enough.

Consider the living conditions of these Herder slaves and the Senas indentured slaves; are they truly seen as human by the Kalman family? They're human, but they're also bipedal beasts whose ownership doesn't even belong to themselves.

"Humans have animal instincts, but unlike animals, people can restrain those instincts." Winters knew such words wouldn't convince his opponent. He thought for a moment and then spoke with a smile, "I have a good friend, taller and stronger than me. With long arms and legs, a broad back and narrow waist, and a top-notch master of swordsmanship. If there's a chance in the future, I'll introduce him to you for breeding."