is an exit, but it hasn’t been used for ages,” the guard said, shaking his head. “If you can get the elders' help, it might be possible to reopen it. We don’t live here by choice, so please don’t trouble us.”

“Of course not,” Brutols reassured him, entering the village. Inside, he saw not only red devils but also a few blue and green devils, likely mutations. Realizing they must have survival methods, Brutols discovered a farm growing mushroom-like plants, ensuring their survival in this barren land.

Armed with this knowledge, Brutols understood how the red devils thrived here. Following directions from a devil, he reached the village chief’s tent, significantly larger and adorned with superstitious-looking symbols. Though skeptical, he appreciated the artistry and took pictures with his phone.

When inside, he faced the white-bearded red devil chieftain. Unsure how the chieftain grew a white beard, Brutols asked respectfully, “Hello, honored chieftain. Is there a passage to the upper levels?”

“There isn’t one open,” the chieftain replied. “The only usable passage is guarded by a formidable monster. We can’t get past it. Moreover, a dangerous mage blocks the lower levels, so we’ve no choice but to stay here. We value our peace and don’t wish for trouble.”

“I won’t disturb your peace,” Brutols promised, adding, “What does this monster look like?” He assumed it was a fierce beast, but the chieftain described it as a humanoid bull, akin to a minotaur. Brutols chuckled, thinking of the creature as a potential hotpot meal.

The chieftain, puzzled, granted Brutols his request for a cooking pot. As Brutols approached the minotaur's location, he discovered the situation was more complex—the minotaur had amassed a considerable group of followers over the years.

Initially solitary, the minotaur had bred and established a substantial tribe, astonishing Brutols with their rapid proliferation. Most minotaurs were non-combatant, welcoming Brutols peacefully, dashing his hopes for a battle to create a hotpot.

The minotaur chieftain, understanding Brutols’ intentions, explained, “We dislike conflicts with others. The passage to the upper levels hasn’t been used in ages.” Puzzled, Brutols wondered how the lich progressed beyond this level. Determined to proceed, he politely requested, “Please allow me to use the passage. I mean no trouble.”

With reluctance, the chieftain sighed, “The passage is now occupied by hellhounds. Their powerful flames are unmatched. I urge you to abandon this idea.”

Brutols smiled at the suggestion. As a fire-wielding pyrokinesis user, he had no fear of flames, viewing this as an exciting opportunity to encounter unique creatures. He appreciated understanding the minotaurs’ plight and set out, equipped with supplies and water prepar

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